SECTION 22.
Hal was still possessed by his idea that Jessie must be taught--she must
have knowledge forced upon her, whether she would or no. The train would
not start for a couple of hours, and he tried to think of some use he
could make of that precious interval. He recalled that Rosa Minetti had
returned to her cabin to attend to her baby. A sudden vision came to him
of Jessie in that little home. Rosa was sweet and good, and assuredly
Little Jerry was a "winner."
"Sweetheart," he said, "I wish you'd come for a walk with me."
"But it's raining, Hal!"
"It won't hurt you to spoil one dress; you have plenty."
"I'm not thinking of that--"
"I _wish_ you'd come."
"I don't feel comfortable about it, Hal. I'm here as Percy's guest, and
he mightn't like--"
"I'll ask him if he objects to your taking a stroll," he suggested, with
pretended gravity.
"No, no! That would make it worse!" Jessie had no humour whatever about
these matters.
"Well, Vivie Cass was out, and some of the others are going. He hasn't
objected to that."
"I know, Hal. But he knows they're all right."
Hal laughed. "Come on, Jessie. Percy won't hold you for my sins! You
have a long train journey before you, and some fresh air will be good
for you."
She saw that she must make some concession to him, if she was to keep
any of her influence over him.
"All right," she said, with resignation, and disappeared and returned
with a heavy veil over her face, to conceal her from prying reportorial
eyes; also an equipment of mackintosh, umbrella and overshoes, against
the rain. The two stole out of the car, feeling like a couple of
criminals.
Skirting the edge of the throng about the pit-mouth, they came to the
muddy, unpaved quarter in which the Italians had their homes; he held
her arm, steering her through the miniature sloughs and creeks. It was
thrilling to him to have her with him thus, to see her sweet face and
hear her voice full of love. Many a time he had thought of her here, and
told her in his imagination of his experiences!
He told her now--about the Minetti family, and how he had met Big and
Little Jerry on the street, and how they had taken him in, and then been
driven by fear to let him go again. He told his check-weighman story,
and was telling how Jeff Cotton had arrested him; but they came to the
Minetti cabin, and the terrifying narrative was cut short.
It was Little Jerry who came to the door, with the remains of breakfast
distributed upon his cheeks; he stared in wonder at the mysteriously
veiled figure. Entering, they saw Rosa sitting in a chair nursing her
baby. She rose in confusion; but she did not quite like to turn her back
upon her guests, so she stood trying to hide her breast as best she
could, blushing and looking very girlish and pretty.
Hal introduced Jessie, as an old friend who was interested to meet his
new friends, and Jessie threw back her veil and sat down. Little Jerry
wiped off his face at his mother's command, and then came where he could
stare at this incredibly lovely vision.
"I've been telling Miss Arthur what good care you took of me," said Hal
to Rosa. "She wanted to come and thank you for it."
"Yes," added Jessie, graciously. "Anybody who is good to Hal earns my
gratitude."
Rosa started to murmur something; but Little Jerry broke in, with his
cheerful voice, "Why you call him Hal? His name's Joe!"
"Ssh!" cried Rosa. But Hal and Jessie laughed--and so the process of
Americanising Little Jerry was continued.
"I've got lots of names," said Hal. "They called me Hal when I was a kid
like you."
"Did _she_ know you then?" inquired Little Jerry.
"Yes, indeed."
"Is she your girl?"
Rosa laughed shyly, and Jessie blushed, and looked charming. She
realised vaguely a difference in manners. These people accepted the
existence of "girls," not concealing their interest in the phenomenon.
"It's a secret," warned Hal. "Don't you tell on us!"
"I can keep a secret," said Little Jerry. After a moment's pause he
added, dropping his voice, "You gotta keep secrets if you work in North
Valley."
"You bet your life," said Hal.
"My father's a Socialist," continued the other, addressing Jessie; then,
since one thing leads on to another, "My father's a shot-firer."
"What's a shot-firer?" asked Jessie, by way of being sociable.
"Jesus!" exclaimed Little Jerry. "Don't you know nothin' about minin'?"
"No," said Jessie. "You tell me."
"You couldn't get no coal without a shot-firer," declared Little Jerry.
"You gotta get a good one, too, or maybe you bust up the mine. My
father's the best they got."
"What does he do?"
"Well, they got a drill--long, long, like this, all the way across the
room; and they turn it and bore holes in the coal. Sometimes they got
machines to drill, only we don't like them machines, 'cause it takes the
men's jobs. When they got the holes, then the shot-firer comes and sets
off the powder. You gotta have--" and here Little Jerry slowed up,
pronouncing each syllable very carefully--"per-miss-i-ble powder--what
don't make no flame. And you gotta know just how much to put in. If you
put in too much, you smash the coal, and the miner raises hell; if you
don't put in enough, you make too much work for him, an' he raises hell
again. So you gotta get a good shot-firer."
Jessie looked at Hal, and he saw that her dismay was mingled with
genuine amusement. He judged this a good way for her to get her
education, so he proceeded to draw out Little Jerry on other aspects of
coal-mining: on short weights and long hours, grafting bosses and
camp-marshals, company-stores and boarding-houses, Socialist agitators
and union organisers. Little Jerry talked freely of the secrets of the
camp. "It's all right for you to know," he remarked gravely. "You're
Joe's girl!"
"You little cherub!" exclaimed Jessie.
"What's a cherub?" was Little Jerry's reply.
