"Old Rafferty" had once been on the way to high station. He had been
made tipple-boss at the San Jose mine, but had given up his job because
he had thought that his religion did not permit him to do what he was
ordered to do. It had been a crude proposition of keeping the men's
score at a certain level, no matter how much coal they might send up;
and when Rafferty had quit rather than obey such orders, he had had to
leave the mine altogether; for of course everybody knew why he had quit,
and his mere presence had the effect of keeping discontent alive.

"You think there are no honest companies at all?" Hal asked.

The old man answered, "There be some, but 'tis not so easy as ye might
think to be honest. They have to meet each other's prices, and when one
short-weights, the others have to. 'Tis a way of cuttin' wages without
the men findin' it out; and there be people that do not like to fall
behind with their profits." Hal found himself thinking of old Peter
Harrigan, who controlled the General Fuel Company, and had made the
remark: "I am a great clamourer for dividends!"

"The trouble with the miner," continued Old Rafferty, "is that he has no
one to speak for him. He stands alone--"

During this discourse, Hal had glanced at "Red Mary," and noticed that
she sat with her arms on the table, her sturdy shoulders bowed in a
fashion which told of a hard day's toil. But here she broke into the
conversation; her voice came suddenly, alive with scorn: "The trouble
with the miner is that he's a _slave!_"

"Ah, now--" put in the old man, protestingly.