“Yes, but what does that mean? How do we work it? Do we give the men their weights?” “Of course! They have their check-weighmen.” “But then, how do we compete with the operators in this district, who pay for a ton of three thousand pounds?” “We manage it--by economy.” “Economy? I don’t see Peter Harrigan wasting anything here!” Hal paused for an answer, but none came. “Do we buy the check-weighmen? Do we bribe the labour leaders?” Edward coloured slightly. “What’s the use of being nasty, Hal? You know I don’t do dirty work.” “I don’t mean to be nasty, Edward; but you must know that many a business-man can say he doesn’t do dirty work, because he has others do it for him. What about politics, for instance? Do we run a machine, and put our clerks and bosses into the local offices?” Edward did not answer, and Hal persisted, “I mean to know these things! I’m not going to be blind any more!” “All right, Hal--you can know anything you want; but for God’s sake, not now! If you want to be taken for a man, show a man’s common sense! Here’s Old Peter getting back to Western City to-morrow night! Don’t you know that he’ll be after me, raging like a mad bull? Don’t you know that if I tell him I can do nothing--that I’ve been down here and tried to pull you away--don’t you know he’ll go after Dad?” Edward had tried all the arguments, and this was the only one that counted. “You must keep him away from Dad!” exclaimed Hal. “You tell me that!” retorted the other. “And when you know Old Peter! Don’t you know he’ll get at him, if he has to break down the door of the house? He’ll throw the burden of his rage on that poor old man! You’ve been warned about it clearly; you know it may be a matter of life and death to keep Dad from getting excited. I don’t know what he’d do; maybe he’d fly into a rage with you, maybe he’d defend you. He’s old and weak, he’s lost his grip on things. Anyhow, he’d not let Peter abuse you--and like as not he’d drop dead in the midst of the dispute! Do you want to have that on your conscience, along with the troubles of your workingmen friends?” SECTION 12. Hal sat staring in front of him, silent. Was it a fact that every man had something in his life which palsied his arm, and struck him helpless in the battle for social justice? When he spoke again, it was in a low voice. “Edward, I’m thinking about a young Irish boy who works in these mines. He, too, has a father; and this father was caught in the explosion. He’s an old man, with a wife and seven other children. He’s a good man, the boy’s a good boy. Let me tell you what Peter Harrigan has done to them!” “Well,” said Edward, “whatever it is, it’s all right, you can help them. They won’t need to starve.”