"Oh, I'm special constable an' guardeen o' th' company's property. Not much doin' now; but last year we had a strike, and I tell you, sir, things was fast an' furious fer a couple o' weeks. But them dagoes never saves no money--so we soon starved 'em out. I reckon that's one reason th' company pays in cash--a dago with cash in his pocket can't pass a gin-shop--an' they's fifteen in Coalville, one right arter th' other. About th' only thing I've got t' do now is to guard th' company's cash. That's what's in that big box in yonder," he added, easily. "Isn't there some danger?" asked the boy. "Danger?" repeated Hopkins, scornfully. "I should say not. Them vermin know me too well!" Again his instrument called, and again Allan turned to answer it. Hopkins arose, went to the door of the waiting-room, and looked up and down the track. "They's usually a wagon waitin' fer us," he went on, coming back after a moment and resuming his seat. "Th' company's got an office, over at th' mine, lined with steel an' with steel shutters to th' winders, with little loopholes in 'em. They had it fixed up last year when they was gittin' ready fer th' strike. And it was mighty useful." "Getting ready for the strike?" "Sure. They knowed there'd be one as soon as they cut the men's wages," answered Hopkins, coolly. "Th' fact is, th' dumps was full o' coal, business was slack, an' they wanted t' shet down awhile." It took Allan some moments to digest this answer. "The miners don't seem to have any show at all," he remarked, at last. "Well, sir, not much," agreed Hopkins. "You see, they ain't organized--they don't belong to no union--and th' company takes mighty good care they sha'n't. My, th' organizers I've bounced out o' this town--it was right interestin' till th' company got wise an' found a better way." "A better way?" "Sure. You see, as soon as an organizer was fired out, he'd go around th' country hollerin' about th' company, an' callin' it bad names. Sometimes this got into th' papers an' made things onpleasant, specially since th' company couldn't say it wasn't so. So now, th' organizer fer this district is on th' pay-roll. He gits a hundred dollars a month, an' when he gits up at th' convention t' report, he tells how he's doin' his best t' organize our dagoes, but finds 'em so ign'rant an' cantankerous that they don't want no union. However, he hopes, before another year rolls around, t' be able t' convince 'em--an' so on. It's a smooth game--an' has worked first rate, so far." Allan glanced up at Jed to see if he was in earnest, but he appeared entirely so. "And what happened during the strike?" "Oh, they tried t' rush us an' set fire t' th' mine--an' us in that steel-lined office, armed with Winchesters! They didn't have no chance." "Were any of them hurt?"