BOOK THREE
THE HENCHMEN OF KING COAL
SECTION 1.
It was Hal's intention to get to Western City as quickly as possible to
call upon the newspaper editors. But first he must have money to travel,
and the best way he could think of to get it was to find John Edstrom.
He left the train, followed by Pete Hanun; after some inquiry, he came
upon the undertaker who had buried Edstrom's wife, and who told him
where the old Swede was staying, in the home of a labouring-man nearby.
Edstrom greeted him with eager questions: Who had been killed? What was
the situation? Hal told in brief sentences what had happened. When he
mentioned his need of money, Edstrom answered that he had a little, and
would lend it, but it was not enough for a ticket to Western City. Hal
asked about the twenty-five dollars which Mary Burke had sent by
registered mail; the old man had heard nothing about it, he had not been
to the post-office. "Let's go now!" said Hal, at once; but as they were
starting downstairs, a fresh difficulty occurred to him. Pete Hanun was
on the street outside, and it was likely that he had heard about this
money from Jeff Cotton; he might hold Edstrom up and take it away.
"Let me suggest something," put in the old man. "Come and see my friend
Ed MacKellar. He may be able to give us some advice--even to think of
some way to get the mine open." Edstrom explained that MacKellar, an old
Scotchman, had been a miner, but was now crippled, and held some petty
office in Pedro. He was a persistent opponent of "Alf" Raymond's
machine, and they had almost killed him on one occasion. His home was
not far away, and it would take little time to consult him.
"All right," said Hal, and they set out at once. Pete Hanun followed
them, not more than a dozen yards behind, but did not interfere, and
they turned in at the gate of a little cottage. A woman opened the door
for them, and asked them into the dining-room where MacKellar was
sitting--a grey-haired old man, twisted up with rheumatism and obliged
to go about on crutches.
Hal told his story. As the Scotchman had been brought up in the mines,
it was not necessary to go into details about the situation. When Hal
told his idea of appealing to the newspapers, the other responded at
once, "You won't have to go to Western City. There's a man right here
who'll do the business for you; Keating, of the _Gazette_."
"The Western City _Gazette?_" exclaimed Hal. He knew this paper; an
evening journal selling for a cent, and read by working-men. Persons of
culture who referred to it disposed of it with the adjective "yellow."
"I know," said MacKellar, noting Hal's tone. "But it's the only paper
that will publish your story anyway."
"Where is this Keating?"
"He's been up at the mine. It's too bad you didn't meet him."
"Can we get hold of him now?"
"He might be in Pedro. Try the American Hotel."
Hal went to the telephone, and in a minute was hearing for the first
time the cheery voice of his friend and lieutenant-to-be, "Billy"
Keating. In a couple of minutes more the owner of the voice was at
MacKellar's door, wiping the perspiration from his half-bald forehead.
He was round-faced, like a full moon, and as jolly as Falstaff; when you
got to know him better, you discovered that he was loyal as a
Newfoundland dog. For all his bulk, Keating was a newspaper man, every
inch of him "on the job."
He started to question the young miner as soon as he was introduced, and
it quickly became clear to Hal that here was the man he was looking for.
Keating knew exactly what questions to ask, and had the whole story in a
few minutes. "By thunder!" he cried. "My last edition!" And he pulled
out his watch, and sprang to the telephone. "Long distance," he called;
then, "I want the city editor of the Western City _Gazette_. And,
operator, please see if you can't rush it through. It's very urgent, and
last time I had to wait nearly half an hour."
He turned back to Hal, and proceeded to ask more questions, at the same
time pulling a bunch of copy-paper from his pocket and making notes. He
got all Hal's statements about the lack of sprinkling, the absence of
escape-ways, the delay in starting the fan, the concealing of the number
of men in the mine. "I knew things were crooked up there!" he exclaimed.
"But I couldn't get a lead! They kept a man with me every minute of the
time. You know a fellow named Predovich?"
"I do," said Hal. "The company store-clerk; he once went through my
pockets."
Keating made a face of disgust. "Well, he was my chaperon. Imagine
trying to get the miners to talk to you with that sneak at your heels! I
said to the superintendent, 'I don't need anybody to escort me around
your place.' And he looked at me with a nasty little smile. 'We wouldn't
want anything to happen to you while you're in this camp, Mr. Keating.'
'You don't consider it necessary to protect the lives of the other
reporters,' I said. 'No,' said he; 'but the _Gazette_ has made a great
many enemies, you know.' 'Drop your fooling, Mr. Cartwright,' I said.
'You propose to have me shadowed while I'm working on this assignment?'
'You can put it that way,' he answered, 'if you think it'll please the
readers of the _Gazette_.'"
"Too bad we didn't meet!" said Hal. "Or if you'd run into any of our
check-weighman crowd!"
"Oh! You know about that check-weighman business!" exclaimed the
reporter. "I got a hint of it--that's how I happened to be down here
to-day. I heard there was a man named Edstrom, who'd been shut out for
making trouble; and I thought if I could find him, I might get a lead."
Hal and MacKellar looked at the old Swede, and the three of them began
to laugh. "Here's your man!" said MacKellar.
"And here's your check-weighman!" added Edstrom, pointing to Hal.
Instantly the reporter was on his job again; he began to fire another
series of questions. He would use that check-weighman story as a
"follow-up" for the next day, to keep the subject of North Valley alive.
The story had a direct bearing on the disaster, because it showed what
the North Valley bosses were doing when they should have been looking
after the safety of their mine. "I'll write it out this afternoon and
send it by mail," said Keating; he added, with a smile, "That's one
advantage of handling news the other papers won't touch--you don't have
to worry about losing your 'scoops'!"
