Hal went off with Jerry Minetti to what his brother described as a “hash-house,” while Edward proceeded in solitary state to the dining-room of the American Hotel. But he was not left in solitary state; pretty soon a sharp-faced young man was ushered to a seat beside him, and started up a conversation. He was a “drummer,” he said; his “line” was hardware, what was Edward’s? Edward answered coldly that he had no “line,” but the young man was not rebuffed--apparently his “line” had hardened his sensibilities. Perhaps Edward was interested in coal-mines? Had he been visiting the camps? He questioned so persistently, and came back so often to the subject, that at last it dawned over Edward what this meant--he was receiving the attention of a “spotter!” Strange to say, the circumstance caused Edward more irritation against Peter Harrigan’s regime than all his brother’s eloquence about oppression at North Valley. SECTION 21. Soon after dinner the kidnapped committee arrived, bedraggled in body and weary in soul. They inquired for Johann Hartman, and were sent up to the room, where there followed a painful scene. Eight men and a woman who had ventured an act of heroism and been made the victims of a crime could not easily be persuaded to see their efforts and sacrifices thrown on the dump-heap, nor were they timid in expressing their opinions of those who were betraying them. “You been tryin’ to get us out!” cried Tim Rafferty. “Ever since I can remember you been at my old man to help you--an’ here, when we do what you ask, you throw us down!” “We never asked you to go on strike,” said Moylan. “No, that’s true. You only asked us to pay dues, so you fellows could have fat salaries.” “Our salaries aren’t very fat,” replied the young leader, patiently. “You’d find that out if you investigated.” “Well, whatever they are, they go on, while ours stop. We’re on the streets, we’re done for. Look at us--and most of us has got families, too! I got an old mother an’ a lot of brothers and sisters, an’ my old man done up an’ can’t work. What do you think’s to become of us?” “We’ll help you out a little, Rafferty--” “To hell with you!” cried Tim. “I don’t want your help! When I need charity, I’ll go to the county. They’re another bunch of grafters, but they don’t pretend to be friends to the workin’ man.” Here was the thing Tom Olson had told Hal at the outset--the workingmen bedevilled, not knowing whom to trust, suspecting the very people who most desired to help them. “Tim,” he put in, “there’s no use talking like that. We have to learn patience--” And the boy turned upon Hal. “What do you know about it? It’s all a joke to you. You can go off and forget it when you get ready. You’ve got money, they tell me!” Hal felt no resentment at this; it was what he heard from his own conscience. “It isn’t so easy for me as you think, Tim. There are other ways of suffering besides not having money--”