Another thing, more important yet, Hal continued; the matter of the delay in getting the fan started. It had been three days since the explosion, but there had been no attempt at entering the mine. Had Mr. Graham seen the disturbance at the pit-mouth that morning? Did he realise that a man had been thrown out of camp merely because he had appealed to the deputy state mine-inspector? Hal told what so many had come to believe--that the company was saving property at the expense of life. He went on to point out the human meaning of this--he told about old Mrs. Rafferty, with her failing health and her eight children; about Mrs. Zamboni, with eleven children; about Mrs. Jonotch, with a husband and three sons in the mine. Led on by the reporter’s interest, Hal began to show some of his feeling. These were human beings, not animals; they loved and suffered, even though they were poor and humble! “Most certainly!” said Mr. Graham. “You’re right, and you may rest assured I’ll look into this.” “There’s one thing more,” said Hal. “If my name is mentioned, I’ll be fired, you know.” “I won’t mention it,” said the other. “Of course, if you can’t publish the story without giving its source--” “I’m the source,” said the reporter, with a smile. “Your name would not add anything.” He spoke with quiet assurance; he seemed to know so completely both the situation and his own duty in regard to it, that Hal felt a thrill of triumph. It was as if a strong wind had come blowing from the outside world, dispelling the miasma which hung over this coal-camp. Yes, this reporter _was_ the outside world! He was the power of public opinion, making itself felt in this place of knavery and fear! He was the voice of truth, the courage and rectitude of a great organisation of publicity, independent of secret influences, lifted above corruption! “I’m indebted to you,” said Mr. Graham, at the end, and Hal’s sense of victory was complete. What an extraordinary chance--that he should have run into the agent of the great press association! The story would go out to the great world of industry, which depended upon coal as its life-blood. The men in the factories, the wheels of which were turned by coal--the travellers on trains which were moved by coal--they would hear at last of the sufferings of those who toiled in the bowels of the earth for them! Even the ladies, reclining upon the decks of palatial steamships in gleaming tropic seas--so marvellous was the power of modern news-spreading agencies, that these ladies too might hear the cry for help of these toilers, and of their wives and little ones! And from this great world would come an answer, a universal shout of horror, of execration, that would force even old Peter Harrigan to give way! So Hal mused--for he was young, and this was his first crusade.