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."
"Yes, that seems to be their attitude. That's the rule they apply to all
the world--if anything goes wrong with you, it must he your own fault.
It's a land of equal opportunity."
"And you'll notice," said the organiser, "that the more privileges
people have had, the more boldly they talk that way."
Hal began to feel a sense of comradeship with this stranger, who was
able to understand one's family troubles! It had been a long time since
Hal had talked with any one from the outside world, and he found it a
relief to his mind. He remembered how, after he had got his beating, he
had lain out in the rain and congratulated himself that he was not what
the guards had taken him for. Now he was curious about the psychology of
an organiser. A man must have strong convictions to follow that
occupation!
He made the remark, and the other answered, "You can have my pay any
time you'll do my work. But let me tell you, too, it isn't being beaten
and kicked out of camp that bothers one most; it isn't the camp-marshal
and the spy and the blacklist. Your worst troubles are inside the heads
of the fellows you're trying to help! Have you ever thought what it
would mean to try to explain things to men who speak twenty different
languages?"
"Yes, of course," said Hal. "I wonder how you ever get a start."
"Well, you look for an interpreter--and maybe he's a company spy. Or
maybe the first man you try to convert reports you to the boss. For, of
course, some of the men are cowards, and some of them are crooks;
they'll sell out the next fellow for a better 'place'--maybe for a glass
of beer."
"That must have a tendency to weaken your convictions," said Hal.
"No," said the other, in a matter of fact tone. "It's hard, but one
can't blame the poor devils. They're ignorant--kept so deliberately. The
bosses bring them here, and have a regular system to keep them from
getting together. And of course these European peoples have their old
prejudices--national prejudices, religious prejudices, that keep them
apart. You see two fellows, one you think is exactly as miserable as the
other--but you find him despising the other, because back home he was
the other's superior. So they play into the bosses' hands."
