“I know,” replied Hal. “The best I can say for it is that it's true.”
“Well,” said the stranger, “I'll take a chance on it. I have to trust somebody, if I'm ever to get anywhere. I picked you out because I liked your face.” He gave Hal another searching look as he walked. “Your smile isn't that of a cheat. But you're young—so let me remind you of the importance of secrecy in this place.”
“I'll keep mum,” said Hal; and the stranger opened a flap inside his shirt, and drew out a letter which certified him to be Thomas Olson, an organiser for the United Mine-Workers, the great national union of the coal-miners!
SECTION 27.
Hal was so startled by this discovery that he stopped in his tracks and gazed at the man. He had heard a lot about “trouble-makers” in the camps, but so far the only kind he had seen were those hired by the company to make trouble for the men. But now, here was a union organiser! Jerry had suggested the possibility, but Hal had not thought of it seriously; an organiser was a mythological creature, whispered about by the miners, cursed by the company and its servants, and by Hal's friends at home. An incendiary, a fire-brand, a loudmouthed, irresponsible person, stirring up blind and dangerous passions! Having heard such things all his life, Hal's first impulse was of distrust. He felt like the one-legged old switchman who had given him a place to sleep, after his beating at Pine Creek, and who had said, “Don't you talk no union business to me!”
Seeing Hal's emotion, the organiser gave an uneasy laugh. “While you're hoping I'm not a 'dick,' I trust you understand I'm hoping you're not one.”
Hal's answer was to the point. “I was taken for an organiser once,” he said, and his hands sought the seat of his ancient bruises.
The other laughed. “You got off with a beating? You were lucky. Down in Alabama, not so long ago, they tarred and feathered one of us.”
Dismay came upon Hal's face; but after a moment he too began to laugh. “I was just thinking about my brother and his friends—what they'd have said if I'd come home from Pine Creek in a coat of tar and feathers!”
“Possibly,” ventured the other, “they'd have said you got what you deserved.”