Pelham, secure in reliance on the bluecoat beside him, stopped the car. "You're a liar," he said shortly. "Go on about your work, instead of swearing at peaceful citizens." The man sputtered in frenzy. "This was my run, you----" The profanity spilled recklessly. "Stealing the bread out of working men's mouths, you white-livered scab!" Pelham turned quickly. "Why don't you arrest that man, officer?" The protector looked at him coolly; he spat deliberately over the railing. "Fer what? He's only telling the truth. You are a scab, now, ain't you?" He scolded the enraged striker. "Go on, Jimmy. Cool off somewhere. That ain't no way to talk to a motorman from the Yaleses college, that ain't. You don't wanter get run in." The man cursed himself out of their sight. Pelham drove in more thoughtfully. Paul, when he learned of it, was not too proud of his son's performance. There was no use in getting one's head cracked unnecessarily, he wrote. But he was as pleased as Pelham at the successful crushing of the strike, which came with startling quickness after the men had been out five days. The union officials made some agreement with the company, and vanished to Boston. Some of the men were taken back, some were not. Sheff resumed its normal placidity. "Your life is too valuable, Pelham," said his father's letter, "to risk in direct contact with the white trash that gather when a strike is declared. Some of the men on the mountain are just as worthless and discontented. We know how to handle them here.... "You might visit Senator Todd Johnson when you pass through Washington. He is a good man to keep in touch with. "Mary and the two youngest got off to St. Simon's Island yesterday. The girls follow on Monday. That will leave us to keep the work up during the summer. "The first report shows 291 tons from the Forty this month, and nearly as much from the other property. We're getting started slowly. "I shall be glad when you get back and down to work." Pelham took the first train South, after commencement was over. VIII "Well, young man, ready to go to work?" "This morning, father." Paul took up the extra slack in his belt. "Oh, we won't rush you. You'd better take the first week off and visit the Barbours. They're getting pretty old, Pelham; they'll appreciate it." "All right, sir." Paul stopped to examine a badly-hung gate, sagging weakly away from its post. "I'll fire that lazy Peter, if he doesn't 'tend to these hinges better. A cow could push through and eat up five hundred dollars' worth of shrubs before your mother caught on.... We'll have you meet some of the men." They came up behind a stubby, middle-aged Irishman, loudly ordering a group of white workers who were timbering the newest mine entrances. "D'ye want the whole mountain to fall on you? Jam it under that slide rock, man." At the father's hail he turned genially. "Mornin', Mr. Judson."