She flung her arms to heaven with a gesture of passionate adjuration. “Swear it on your lives! To stick to the rest of us, and never a man of ye give way till ye’ve won! Swear! _Swear!_” Men stood, imitating her gesture, their hands stretched up to the sky. “We swear! We swear!” “Ye’ll not let them break ye! Ye’ll not let them frighten ye!” “No! No!” “Stand by your word, men! Stand by it! ’Tis the one chance for your wives and childer!” The girl rushed on--exhorting with leaping words and passionate out-flung arms--a tall, swaying figure of furious rebellion. Hal listened to the speech and watched the speaker, marvelling. Here was a miracle of the human soul, here was hope born of despair! And the crowd around her--they were sharing the wonderful rebirth; their waving arms, their swaying forms responded to Mary as an orchestra to the baton of a leader. A thrill shook Hal--a thrill of triumph! He had been beaten down himself, he had wanted to run from this place of torment; but now there was hope in North Valley--now there would be victory, freedom! Ever since he had come to the coal-country, the knowledge had been growing in Hal that the real tragedy of these people’s lives was not their physical suffering, but their mental depression--the dull, hopeless misery in their minds. This had been driven into his consciousness day by day, both by what he saw and by what others told him. Tom Olson had first put it into words: “Your worst troubles are inside the heads of the fellows you’re trying to help!” How could hope be given to men in this environment of terrorism? Even Hal himself, young and free as he was, had been brought to despair. He came from a class which is accustomed to say, “Do this,” or “Do that,” and it will be done. But these mine-slaves had never known that sense of power, of certainty; on the contrary, they were accustomed to having their efforts balked at every turn, their every impulse to happiness or achievement crushed by another’s will. But here was this miracle of the human soul! Here was hope in North Valley! Here were the people rising--and Mary Burke at their head! It was his vision come true--Mary Burke with a glory in her face, and her hair shining like a crown of gold! Mary Burke mounted upon a snow-white horse, wearing a robe of white, soft and lustrous--like Joan of Arc, or a leader in a suffrage parade! Yes, and she was at the head of a host, he had the music of its marching in his ears!