Percy wanted Hal to come away with the party. He suggested this tactfully at first, and then, as Hal did not take the hint, he began to press the matter, showing signs of irritation. The mine was open now—what more did Hal want? When Hal suggested that Cartwright might order it closed again, Percy revealed the fact that the matter was in his father's hands. The superintendent had sent a long telegram the night before, and an answer was due at any moment. Whatever the answer ordered would have to be done. There was a grim look upon Hal's face, but he forced himself to speak politely. “If your father orders anything that interferes with the rescuing of the men—don't you see, Percy, that I have to fight him?”
“But how can you fight him?”
“With the one weapon I have—publicity.”
“You mean—” Percy stopped, and stared.
“I mean what I said before—I'd turn Billy Keating loose and blow this whole story wide open.”
“Well, by God!” cried young Harrigan. “I must say I'd call it damned dirty of you! You said you'd not do it, if I'd come here and open the mine!”
“But what good does it do to open it, if you close it again before the men are out?” Hal paused, and when he went on it was in a sincere attempt at apology. “Percy, don't imagine I fail to appreciate the embarrassments of this situation. I know I must seem a cad to you—more than you've cared to tell me. I called you my friend in spite of all our quarrels. All I can do is to assure you that I never intended to get into such a position as this.”
“Well, what the hell did you want to come here for? You knew it was the property of a friend—”
“That's the question at issue between us, Percy. Have you forgotten our arguments? I tried to convince............