“Did she wear a white hat of soft straw, with a green and white flower garden on it, and an olive green veil, and maybe cream white ribbons?” “By George, I believe you’ve seen her!” exclaimed the reporter. “Maybe,” said Hal. “Or maybe I’m describing the girl on the cover of one of the current magazines!” He smiled; but then, seeing the other’s curiosity, “Seriously, I think I do know your young lady. If you announce that Miss Jessie Arthur is a member of the Harrigan party, you won’t be taking a long chance.” “I can’t afford to take any chance at all,” said the reporter. “You mean Robert Arthur’s daughter?” “Heiress-apparent of the banking business of Arthur and Sons,” said Hal. “It happens I know her by sight.” “How’s that?” “I worked in a grocery-store where she used to come.” “Whereabouts?” “Peterson and Company, in Western City.” “Oho! And you used to sell her candy.” “Stuffed dates.” “And your little heart used to go pit-a-pat, so that you could hardly count the change?” “Gave her too much, several times!” “And you wondered if she was as good as she was beautiful! One day you were thrilled with hope, the next you were cynical and bitter--till at last you gave up in despair, and ran away to work in a coal-mine!” They laughed, and MacKellar and Edstrom joined in. But suddenly Keating became serious again. “I ought to be away on that story!” he exclaimed. “I’ve got to get something out of that crowd about the disaster. Think what copy it would make!” “But how can you do it?” “I don’t know; I only know I ought to be trying. I’ll hang round the train, and maybe I can get one of the porters to talk.” “Interview with the Coal King’s porter!” chuckled Hal. “How it feels to make up a multi-millionaire’s bed!” “How it feels to sell stuffed dates to a banker’s daughter!” countered the other. But suddenly it was Hal’s turn to become serious. “Listen, Mr. Keating,” said he, “why not let _me_ interview young Harrigan?” “_You?_” “Yes! I’m the proper person--one of his miners! I help to make his money for him, don’t I? I’m the one to tell him about North Valley.” Hal saw the reporter staring at him in sudden excitement; he continued: “I’ve been to the District Attorney, the Justice of the Peace, the District Judge, the Mayor and the Chief of Police. Now, why shouldn’t I go to the Owner?” “By thunder!” cried Billy. “I believe you’d have the nerve!” “I believe I would,” replied Hal, quietly. The other scrambled out of his chair, wild with delight. “I dare you!” he exclaimed. “I’m ready,” said Hal. “You mean it?” “Of course I mean it.” “In that costume?” “Certainly. I’m one of his miners.” “But it won’t go,” cried the reporter. “You’ll stand no chance to get near him unless you’re well dressed.” “Are you sure of that? What I’ve got on might be the garb of a railroad-hand. Suppose there was something out of order in one of the cars--the plumbing, for example?” “But you couldn’t fool the conductor or the porter.”