Elizabeth Hobart at Exeter Hall

by Jean K. Baird

“Keep your eye on the big Polack,” he said to Dennis, yet loud enough for all to hear. “If you don’t want to hand in your checks soon, don’t let him get behind you on a dark night.”

At that Gerani had scowled malignantly. O’Day laughed loud and mirthlessly, while he washed glasses and kept his eye on the scowling Pole.

“He’d do it quick enough. Dead men tell no tales; but confessions do. And I’ve left with Father Brady a nice lot of paper which he’s to read when I’m gone. It will be hot enough around here to make more than one swing for a breeze. I’m safe with Gerani—so long as those papers are safe with Father Brady.” The big Pole moved away from his place at the front. As O’Day ceased speaking, he disappeared into the darkness.

By such methods O’Day had gained his influence over the foreigners. He was lawless. His place was open on the Sabbath and until all hours of the night. Young boys entered sober and came forth drunk. There was no one to call him to account. Then from somewhere came Joe Ratowsky. And from that time, the troubles of Dennis O’Day began.

Yet big Joe was apparently innocent. He could smatter only a little English. No one seemed to know where he came from and he never furnished the information even when asked; he never seemed to hear the question. He was friendly with his countrymen, and stood by them whenever the need arose. He was often called upon to act as interpreter between the bosses and the men, but still he was different from those about him. He was a Pole, heart and soul, and his faith was bound to the homeland whose ultimate independence was his one dream; he had risen a grade higher in the moral scale than those whom his work made his associates. Joe took baths. Joe read a Polish paper; he did not drink except one glass of beer at his dinner. None of them had ever been able to persuade him to go further than that. Whether it were a wedding or a wake, Joe was staunch. This moderation, with the baths, set him, apart.

He did not mine at Bitumen, but worked his little patch of ground, interpreted when there was need for small consideration, and at last opened a little restaurant where lunches after the German style were served. His black coffee certainly excelled O’Day’s beer, while the wienerwurst and “Schnitz-und-Knöpf” put to shame the meals at “The Miner’s Rest.”

Joe’s place consisted of a great room with a bare floor, furnished with wooden chairs and tables. One weekly paper in German was always to be found. The German element at Bitumen could read their own language; and they passed the news on to the others. The innovation of the paper diminished the popularity of O’Day’s place. Joe also introduced music, or what was passed for it. Then O’Day offered to buy him out at a price more than the place was worth. Joe smiled blandly, “Me know Slav—me know Polack talk. Me know no English like you say. Me no understand. Meester Hobart, he tell you vat you says. He tell you quick like the tivil.” But Dennis O’Day had no desire to speak with Mr. Hobart. His efforts with Joe were futile. The big Pole had made up his mind not to understand.

The superintendent was liked well enough by the saloonist, and consequently by the greater portion of the men. Mr. Hobart was opposed to liquor, and had not hesitated to express himself to that effect. But O’Day cared little for that so long, as he said, the man knew his place and did not interfere. And his place, to O’Day’s way of thinking, was to superintend the mines, and let the morals of the men alone. “I’ll take good care of them,” he was apt to add with a crafty look. His intercourse with Mr. Hobart began and ended with a bow of recognition in the street. So far as the liquor business was concerned, O’Day considered the superintendent harmless, and that was as far as he concerned himself with anyone.

Some subtle influence was working against O’Day. From whence it came he was not able to determine. The time had passed, however, when he could break the law with impunity. He felt that keen eyes were upon him. He was cunning enough to know that his safety now lay in his keeping within the limits of the law. He made ostentatious show of closing at the prescribed hours. All the while he kept his eyes and ears open to discover his enemy.

Big Joe Ratowsky was the only probable one. He made frequent visits to “The Miner’s Rest,” but never drank. He knew the ages of all the miners. In this respect Joe’s watchfulness was clear to O’Day’s mind; but there the evidence stopped, and much could be said on the other side. So, still at sea, O’Day kept himself sober and his eyes and ears open to all that was said and done in his place of business. Finally, when his confidence was fully restored, he returned to his old way of doing business, and kept open one Sunday. His place was filled with drunken, riotous Poles and Slavs. In a spirit of recklessness, he sold freely to all. On the following morning a summons was served to appear before the court to answer to the charge of illegal liquor selling. The charge was brought by the Pole, big Joe Ratowsky. Even then O’Day’s perception was dull. It did not come to him that Joe was merely the instrument in the hand of someone who would not act openly.