The district court was in session and Hal sat for a while in the court-room, watching Judge Denton. Here was another prosperous and well-fed appearing gentleman, with a rubicund visage shining over the top of his black silk robe. The young miner found himself regarding both the robe and the visage with suspicion. Could it be that Hal was becoming cynical, and losing his faith in his fellow man? What he thought of, in connection with the Judge's appearance, was that there was a living to be made sitting on the bench, while one's partner appeared before the bench as coal-company counsel! In an interval of the proceedings, Hal spoke to the clerk, and was told that he might see the judge at four-thirty; but a few minutes later Pete Hanun came in and whispered to this clerk. The clerk looked at Hal, then he went up and whispered to the Judge. At four-thirty, when the court was declared adjourned, the Judge rose and disappeared into his private office; and when Hal applied to the clerk, the latter brought out the message that Judge Denton was too busy to see him.
But Hal was not to be disposed of in that easy fashion. There was a side door to the court-room, with a corridor beyond it, and while he stood arguing with the clerk he saw the rubicund visage of the Judge flit past.
He darted in pursuit. He did not shout or make a disturbance; but when he was close behind his victim, he said, quietly, “Judge Denton, I appeal to you for justice!”
The Judge turned and looked at him, his countenance showing annoyance. “What do you want?”
It was a ticklish moment, for Pete Hanun was at Hal's heels, and it would have needed no more than a nod from the Judge to cause him to collar Hal. But the Judge, taken by surprise, permitted himself to parley with the young miner; and the detective hesitated, and finally fell back a step or two.
Hal repeated his appeal. “Your Honour, there are a hundred and seven men and boys now dying up at the North Valley mine. They are being murdered, and I am trying to save their lives!”
“Young man,” said the Judge, “I have an urgent engagement down the street.”
“Very well,” replied Hal, “I will walk with you and tell you as you go.” Nor did he give “His Honour” a chance to say whether this arrangement was pleasing to him; he set out by his side, with Pete Hanun and the other two men some ten yards in the rear.
Hal told the story as he had told it to Mr. Richard Parker; and he received the same response. Such matters were not easy to decide about; they were hardly a Judge's business. There was a state official on the ground, and it was for him to decide if there was violation of law.
Hal repeated his statement that a man who made a complaint to this official had been thrown out of camp. “And I was thrown out also, your Honour.”
“What for?”
“Nobody told me what for.”
“Tut, tut, young man! They don't throw men out without telling them the reason!”
“But they do, your Honour! Shortly before that they locked me up in jail, and held me for thirty-six hours without the slightest show of authority.”
“You must have been doing something!”
“What I had done was to be chosen by a committee of miners to act as their check-weighman.”
“Their check-weighman?”
“Yes, your Honour. I am informed there's a law providing that when the men demand a check-weighman, and offer to pay for him, the company must permit him to inspect the weights. Is that correct?”
“It is, I believe.”
“And there's a penalty for refusing?”
“The law always carries a penalty, young man.”
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