"But about what?" Dick insisted. "We pay the union scale, and, while I
don't know, I believe there isn't a man on the Cross that hasn't a
card."

"Well," replied his partner, "we'll soon see. Finished?"

As they walked to the office, men began to hurry across the gulch
toward the hoist, others toward the mill, and by the time they were in
their cabin the whistle blew. It was but a minute later that they
heard someone striding over the porch, and the man they assumed to be
the walking delegate entered. He was not of the usual stamp, but
appeared intent on his errand. Save for a certain air of craftiness,
he was representative and intelligent. He was quietly dressed, and
gave the distinct impression that he had come up from the mines, and
had known a hammer and drill--a typical "hard-rock man."

"Gentlemen," he said, "I am representing the Consolidated Miners'
Association."

He drew a neat card from a leather case in his pocket, and presented
it, and was asked to seat himself.

"What can we do for you?" Dick asked, wasting no time on words.

"I suppose this mine is fair?"

"Yes. It is straight, as far as I know."

"It has no agreement."

"But we are ready to sign one whenever it is presented."

The delegate drew a worn wallet from his pocket, extracted a paper,
and tendered it.

"I anticipated no trouble," he said, but without smiling or giving any
sign of satisfaction. "Would you mind looking that over, and seeing if
it meets with your approval?"

Dick stepped to the high desk at the side of the room which he had
been utilizing as a drawing board, laid the sheet out, and began
reading it, while Bill stood up and scanned it across his shoulders.
Bill suddenly put a stubby finger on a clause, and mumbled: "That's
not right."

Dick slowly read it; and, before he had completed the involved
wording, the finger again clapped down at another section. "Nor that.
Don't stand for it!"

"What do you want, anyhow?" Bill demanded, swinging round and facing
the delegate.

The latter looked at him coolly and exasperatingly for a moment, then
said: "What position do you occupy here, my man?"

Dick whirled as if he had been struck from behind.

"What position does he occupy? He is my superintendent, and my friend.
Anything he objects to, or sanctions, I object to, or agree with.
Anything he says, I'll back up. Now I'll let him do the talking."

The delegate calmly flicked the ash from a cigar he had lighted,
p