Job was greatly astonished. He expressed his thanks, but finally managed to stammer out that he really had had all he cared for of mining life, and did not want to leave the old ranch.
Then the man took his arm, and as they walked up and down together, he told Job there was trouble brewing at the mine; the men were reading all the news they could get about the great mining strike East, and a whole crowd stood in front of the store each evening between shifts, listening to agitators; the fellow Dean was talking strike on the sly to all the men, and he was afraid that under the passing excitement the best of the men would be duped by worthless leaders. So he wanted Job back; Job knew the men, they liked him, they would hear him; the company needed him, it must have him at any salary.
So Job went back to the Yellow Jacket with the memory of that home-coming to cheer him in the dark times that were to follow. When the next day the scowling men came one by one to the pay-window at the office, muttering about starvation wages, they looked surprised to see Job there. Some reached out their rough hands for a shake, and said, "Shure and it does me eyes good to see you, lad;" others only scowled the deeper; and one looked almost as if shot, forgot his pay, and turned and walked away muttering, "Bother the saint! He's forever in my way!"
It was just two weeks from that day that the storm broke at the Yellow Jacket Mine. A deep undertone of discontent and rebellion had filled the air during that time. Job had felt it more plainly than he had heard it. The superintendent had kept a calm, firm face, though Job knew he was anything but calm within.
It was just before Job had gotten ready on Saturday to shove up the pay-window and begin his weekly task, that a group of burly men, with O'Donnell, the boss of the eight-hundred-foot level, as spokesman, came in and desired to see the superintendent. Calmly that gentleman stepped up and wished to know what was wanted. Well, nothing in particular, was the reply; only they had a paper they wished him to sign. He took it and read it. It was a strange document, evidently prepared by O'Donnell himself. It read as follows:
"The Yellow Jacket Mining Company will Pay all men That work on the mine 20 pursent more To-day And all the time."
The superintendent folded up the paper, and, handing it back to the men, turned and walked into the office without a word.
"Here, boss!" cried O'Donnell, "yez didn't plant yer name on the paper! Ain't yez goin' to give the hands their dues?"
Then the superintendent turned and explained to the men that he could not sign any such agreement; had no authority to; only the directors in San Francisco and New York could authorize it; that the mine could not afford it; that the men had no complaint—it was only false sympathy with distant strikes which caused them to make this demand; that he would not sign such a document if he could.
The men left in a rage. At the noon shift all the hands came up from the mine; not one went down. The machinery stopped; not a wheel turned, not even the pumps that were so necessary to keep the lower levels from being flooded. At one o'clock the men began to come for their pay, not one doing so in the morning. Each demanded a raise of twenty per cent. on his wages, and, when this was refused by Job, threw his money back on the shelf, and walked out without a word.