This business of conspiracy was grimly real to men whose living came out of coal; but Hal, even at the most serious moments, continued to find in it the thrill of romance. He had read stories of revolutionists, and of the police who hunted them. That such excitements were to be had in Russia, he knew; but if any one had told him they could be had in his own free America, within a few hours' journey of his home city and his college-town, he could not have credited the statement. The evening after his visit to Edstrom, Hal was stopped on the street by his boss. Encountering him suddenly, Hal started, like a pick-pocket who runs into a policeman.
“Hello, kid,” said the pit-boss.
“Hello, Mr. Stone,” was the reply.
“I want to talk to you,” said the boss.
“All right, sir.” And then, under his breath, “He's got me!”
“Come up to my house,” said Stone; and Hal followed, feeling as if hand-cuffs were already on his wrists.
“Say,” said the man, as they walked, “I thought you were going to tell me if you'd heard any talk.”
“I haven't heard any, sir.”
“Well,” continued Stone, “you want to get busy; there's sure to be kickers in every coal-camp.” And deep within, Hal drew a sigh of relief. It was a false alarm!
They came to the boss's house, and he took a chair on the piazza and motioned Hal to take another. They sat in semi-darkness, and Stone dropped his voice as he began. “What I want to talk to you about now is something else—this election.”
“Election, sir?”
“Didn't you know there was one? The Congressman in this district died, and there's a special election three weeks from next Tuesday.”
“I see, sir.” And Hal chuckled inwardly. He would get the information which Tom Olson had recommended to him!
“You ain't heard any talk about it?” inquired the pit-boss.
“Nothing at all, sir. I never pay much attention to politics—it ain't in my line.”
“Well, that's the way I like to hear a miner talk!” said the pit-boss, with heartiness. “If they all had sense enough to leave politics to the politicians, they'd be a sight better off. What they need is to tend to their own jobs.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed Hal, meekly—“like I had to tend to them mules, if I didn't want to get the colic.”
The boss smiled appreciatively. “You've got more sense than most of 'em. If you'll stand by me, there'll be a chance for you to move up in the world.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stone,” said Hal. “Give me a chance.”
“Well now, here's this election. Every year they send us a bunch of campaign money to handle. A bit of it might come your way.”
“I could use it, I reckon,” said Hal, brightening visibly. “What is it you want?”
There was a pause, while Stone puffed on his pipe. He went on, in a business-like manner. “What I want is somebody to feel things out a bit, and let me know the situation. I thought it better not to use the men that generally work for me, but somebody that wouldn't be suspected. Down in Sheridan and Pedro they say the Democrats are making a big stir, and the company's worried. I suppose you know the 'G. F. C.' is Republican.”
“I've heard so.”
“You might think a congressman don't have much to do with us, way off in Washington; but it has a bad effect to have him campaigning, telling the men the company's abusing them. So I'd like you just to kind o' circulate a bit, and start the men on politics, and see if any of them have been listening to this MacDougall talk. (MacDougall's this here Democrat, you know.) And I want to find out whether they've been sending in literature to this camp, or have any agents here. You see, they claim the right to come in and make speeches, and all that sort of thing. North Valley's an incorporated town, so they've got the law on their side, in a way, and if we shut 'em out, they make a howl in the ............