of 'em. They must be kep' down! Yes,
sir! kep' down, boys must be."

Derrick could not help wondering why he too had not been ordered to
report at the new breaker the next morning, but thought it better not to
ask any questions. After supper he went over to see Mr. Jones, in
obedience to the instructions received from the breaker boss.

Warren Jones, the assistant superintendent, or, as he was generally
termed, the "mine boss," of the Raven Brook Colliery, was a
pleasant-faced, outspoken young man of about thirty. At present he was
acting as superintendent, and the burden of responsibility bore heavily
upon him. He had a host of warm friends, but had made some bitter
enemies among the miners by his direct honesty of purpose and
determination to deal out even-handed justice to all over whom he
exercised authority. Although generally good-natured and slow to find
fault, he could be quick and stern enough when occasion demanded.

Such was the man who greeted Derrick Sterling cordially that evening,
showed him into his library, and made him sit down, saying that he
wished to have a little talk with him. He spoke in terms of such praise
of Derrick's behavior on the previous day as to bring a blush of
pleasure to the boy's cheeks.

"By-the-way, Derrick," he asked, "how did the breaker catch fire?"

"I haven't the least idea, sir," answered Derrick, looking up in
surprise.

"Oh, all right," said the other, carelessly. "I didn't know but what you
might have heard something said about it."

"No, sir, I haven't; that is, not anything that I thought amounted to
anything. I have heard some of the boys talking about 'Mollies,' and
saying that they beat the world for floods and fires. What are 'Mollies'
anyway, Mr. Jones?"

The mine boss looked at him curiously for a moment before replying,

"If you really don't know, it's time you did, for you're likely to see
and hear a great deal of them if you decide to make mining your business
in life. All that I know about them is this:

"Many years ago a young woman named Mary, or Mollie Maguire, was
murdered in Ireland, and several young fellows belonging to an order
called 'Ribbonmen' bound themselves by an oath to avenge her death and
kill her murderer. They succeeded so well in this undertaking, and
escaped detection so easily, that they proceeded to redress other
wrongs, real and fancied. They were joined by other men of their own way
of thinking, and finally they became a wi