The Plunderer Part 15

The old man suddenly looked at the superintendent, and said: "Say, Bill. You been down to the camp a few times, ain't you?"

"Yes, we've been down there several times. Why?"

"Well, I suppose you know they's a lot of talk goin' around that the Cross is workin' in good pay now?"

"Oh, I've heard it; but don't pay any attention when it's not so."

Bells Park leaned farther over, and lowered his shrill, garrulous voice to a thin murmur.

"Well, I cain't tell you what it is, but I want to give you the right lead. When that gets to goin' on about newcomers in the Blue Mountains--fellers like you be--look out for storms."

"Go on! You're full of stuff again!" Bill gibed, with his hearty laugh. "If we'd listened to all the mysterious warnin's you've handed us since we came up here, Bells, we'd been like a dog chasin' his tail around when it happened to be bit off down to the rump and no place to get hold of. Better look out! Humph!"

The old engineer got up in one of his tantrums, fairly screamed with rage, threatened to leave as soon as he could get another job, and then tramped down the hill to the cabin he occupied with the other engineer. But that was not new, either, for he had made the same threat at least a half-dozen times, and yet the men from the Coeur d'Alenes knew that nothing could drive him away but dismissal.

It was but two or three days later that the partners, coming from the a.s.say-house to the mess late, discovered a stranger talking to the men outside under the shade of a great clump of tamaracks that nestled at the foot of a slope. They pa.s.sed in and sat down at their table, wondering who the visitor could be. The cook's helper, a mute, served them, and they were alone when they were attracted by a shrill, soft hiss from the window. They looked, and saw Bells Park. Nothing but his head, cap-crowned, was visible as he stood on tiptoe to reach the opening.

"I told you to look out," he said warningly. "Old Mister Trouble's come. Don't give anything. Stand pat. A walkin' delegate from Denver's here. G.o.d knows why. Look out."

His head disappeared as if it were a jack-in-the-box, shut down; and the partners paused with anxious eyes and waited for him to reappear.

d.i.c.k jumped to his feet and walked across to the window. No one was in sight. He went to the farther end of the mess-house and peered through a corner of the nearest pane. Out under the tamaracks the stranger was orating, and punctuating his remarks with a finger tapping in a palm.

His words were not audible; but d.i.c.k saw that he was at least receiving attention. He returned to the table, and told Bill what he had seen. The latter was perturbed.

"It looks as if we were goin' to have an argument, don't it?" he asked, voicing his perplexity.

"But about what?" d.i.c.k insisted. "We pay the union scale, and, while I don't know, I believe there isn't a man on the Cross that hasn't a card."

"Well," replied his partner, "we'll soon see. Finished?"

As they walked to the office, men began to hurry across the gulch toward the hoist, others toward the mill, and by the time they were in their cabin the whistle blew. It was but a minute later that they heard someone striding over the porch, and the man they a.s.sumed to be the walking delegate entered. He was not of the usual stamp, but appeared intent on his errand. Save for a certain air of craftiness, he was representative and intelligent. He was quietly dressed, and gave the distinct impression that he had come up from the mines, and had known a hammer and drill--a typical "hard-rock man."

"Gentlemen," he said, "I am representing the Consolidated Miners'

a.s.sociation."

He drew a neat card from a leather case in his pocket, and presented it, and was asked to seat himself.

"What can we do for you?" d.i.c.k asked, wasting no time on words.

"I suppose this mine is fair?"

"Yes. It is straight, as far as I know."

"It has no agreement."

"But we are ready to sign one whenever it is presented."

The delegate drew a worn wallet from his pocket, extracted a paper, and tendered it.

"I antic.i.p.ated no trouble," he said, but without smiling or giving any sign of satisfaction. "Would you mind looking that over, and seeing if it meets with your approval?"

d.i.c.k stepped to the high desk at the side of the room which he had been utilizing as a drawing board, laid the sheet out, and began reading it, while Bill stood up and scanned it across his shoulders.

Bill suddenly put a stubby finger on a clause, and mumbled: "That's not right."

d.i.c.k slowly read it; and, before he had completed the involved wording, the finger again clapped down at another section. "Nor that.

Don't stand for it!"

"What do you want, anyhow?" Bill demanded, swinging round and facing the delegate.

The latter looked at him coolly and exasperatingly for a moment, then said: "What position do you occupy here, my man?"

d.i.c.k whirled as if he had been struck from behind.

"What position does he occupy? He is my superintendent, and my friend.

Anything he objects to, or sanctions, I object to, or agree with.

Anything he says, I'll back up. Now I'll let him do the talking."

The delegate calmly flicked the ash from a cigar he had lighted, puffed at it, blew the smoke from under his mustache toward the ceiling, and looked at the thin cloud before answering. It was as if he had come intent on creating a disturbance through studied insolence.

"Well," he said, without noticing the hot, antagonistic att.i.tude of the mine owner, "what do you think of the proffered agreement?"

"I think it's no good!" answered Mathews, facing him. "It's drawn up on a number-one scale. This mine ain't in that cla.s.s."

"Oh! So you've signed 'em before."

"I have. A dozen times. This mine has but one s.h.i.+ft--the regular day s.h.i.+ft. It has but one engineer and a helper. It has but one mill boss."

"Working eight batteries?"

"No. You know we couldn't work eight batteries with one small s.h.i.+ft."

"Well, you've got to have an a.s.sistant millman at the union scale, you know," insisted the delegate.

"What to do? To loaf around, I suppose," Bill retorted.

"And you've got to have a turn up in the engine-house. You need another hoisting engineer," continued the delegate, as if all these matters had been decided by him beforehand.

d.i.c.k thought that he might gain a more friendly footing by taking part in the conversation himself.

"See here," he said. "The Croix d'Or isn't paying interest. Maybe we aren't using the requisite number of men as demanded under this rating; but they are all satisfied, and----"

"I don't know about that," interrupted the delegate, with an air of insolent a.s.surance.

"And if we can't go on under the present conditions, we may as well shut down," d.i.c.k concluded.

"That's up to you," declared the delegate, with an air of disinterest.

"If a mine can't pay for the working, it ought to shut down."

The partners looked at each other. There was a mutual question as to whether it would be policy to throw the delegate out of the door.

Plainly they were in a predicament, for the man was master, in his way.