Afterwards Hal made inquiry among the English-speaking men, and learned that the coroner did sometimes come to the camp. He would empanel a jury consisting of Jeff Cotton, the marshal, and Predovich, the Galician Jew who worked in the company store, and a clerk or two from the company’s office, and a couple of Mexican labourers who had no idea what it was all about. This jury would view the corpse, and ask a couple of men what had happened, and then bring in a verdict: “We find that the deceased met his death from a fall of rock caused by his own fault.” (In one case they had added the picturesque detail: “No relatives, and damned few friends!”) For this service the coroner got a fee, and the company got an official verdict, which would be final in case some foreign consul should threaten a damage suit. So well did they have matters in hand that nobody in North Valley had ever got anything for death or injury; in fact, as Hal found later, there had not been a damage suit filed against any coal-operator in that county for twenty-three years! This particular, accident was of consequence to Hal, because it got him a chance to see the real work of mining. Old Mike was without a helper, and made the proposition that Hal should take the job. It was better than a stableman’s, for it paid two dollars a day. “But will the boss let me change?” asked Hal. “You give him ten dollar, he change you,” said Mike. “Sorry,” said Hal, “I haven’t got ten dollars.” “You give him ten dollar credit,” said the other. And Hal laughed. “They take scrip for graft, do they?” “Sure they take him,” said Mike. “Suppose I treat my mules bad?” continued the other. “So I can make him change me for nothing!” “He change you to hell!” replied Mike. “You get him cross, he put us in bad room, cost us ten dollar a week. No, sir--you give him drink, say fine feller, make him feel good. You talk American--give him jolly!” SECTION 21. Hal was glad of this opportunity to get better acquainted with his pit-boss. Alec Stone was six feet high, and built in proportion, with arms like hams--soft with fat, yet possessed of enormous strength. He had learned his manner of handling men on a sugar-plantation in Louisiana--a fact which, when Hal heard it, explained much. Like a stage-manager who does not heed the real names of his actors, but calls them by their character-names, Stone had the habit of addressing his men by their nationalities: “You, Polack, get that rock into the car! Hey, Jap, bring them tools over here! Shut your mouth, now, Dago, and get to work, or I’ll kick the breeches off you, sure as you’re alive!”