that doesn't reach--that's against the law. A pine partition in an air-chute using it as a shaft--that's against the law. Yet when trouble comes and these men burn and kill and plunder--we'll put the miners in jail, and maybe hang them, for doing as they are taught a thousand times a week by the company--risking life for their own gain!" Grant Adams rose. He ran his great, strong, copper-freckled hands through his fiery hair and stood with face transfigured, as the face of one staring at some phantasm. "Oh, those men--they risked their lives--Chopini and Casper Herdicker gave their lives for me. Father," he cried, "I am bought with a price. These men risked all and gave all for me. I am theirs. I have no other right to live except as I serve them." He drew a deep breath; set his jaw and spoke with all the force he could put into a quiet voice: "I am dedicated to men--to those great-souled, brave, kind men whom God has sent here for man to dwarf and ruin. They have bought me. I am theirs." The minister put the question in their minds: "What are you going to do, Grant?" The fervor that had been dying down returned to Grant Adams's face. "My job," he cried, "is so big I don't know where to take hold. But I'm not going to bother to tell those men who sweat and stink and suffer under the injustices of men, about the justice of God. I've got one thing in me bigger'n a wolf--it's this: House them--feed them, clothe them, work them--these working people--and pay them as you people of the middle classes are housed and fed and paid and clad, and crime won't be the recreation of poverty. And the Lord knows the work of the men who toil with their hands is just as valuable to society as preaching and trading and buying and selling and banking and editing and lawing and doctoring, and insuring and school teaching." He stood before the kitchen stove, a tall, awkward, bony, wide-shouldered, loose-wired creature in the first raw stage of full-blown manhood. The red muscles of his jaw worked as his emotions rose in him. His hands were the hands of a fanatic--never still. "I've been down into death and I've found something about life," he went on. "Out of the world's gross earnings we're paying too much for superintendence, and rent and machines, and not enough for labor. There's got to be a new shake-up. And I'm going to help. I don't know where nor how to begin, but some way I'll find a hold and I'm going to take it." He drew in a long breath, looked around and smiled rather a ragged, ugly smile that showed his big teeth, all white and strong but uneven. "Well, Grant," said Mrs. Dexter, "you have cut out a big job for yourself." The young man nodded soberly. "Well, we're going to organize 'em, the first thing. We talked that over in the mine when we had nothing else to talk about--but God and our babies."