ferent. No moral question was involved. But when it
comes to taking what belongs to another--well, a thief is a thief."

"Right as a rivet, Miss Dwight. But you're begging the question. _Does_
that ore belong to Dobyans Verinder any more than it does to--well, to
Jack Kilmeny, say for the sake of argument? I go down there and risk my
life blasting it out. He----"

"But you don't," interrupted Moya.

"Not to-day perhaps--or yesterday. But I did last year and the year
before that. I've brought up in my arms the bodies of men torn to pieces
and carried them to their wives and kiddies. How about those women and
children? Haven't they earned an interest in the mine? Isn't their moral
claim greater than that of Mr. Verinder, who sits in London and draws
the dividends?"

"They are pensioned, aren't they?"

"They are not," returned Jack curtly. "The mine owners of Goldbanks
don't believe in encouraging negligence. If these workmen hadn't taken
chances they probably would not have been killed, you see. But if they
didn't take chances none of the men could earn a living for their
families. It is plain how very much to blame they are."

Moya looked across the summits of the hills into the brilliant sunset
that lay like a wonderful canvas in the crotch of the peaks. A troubled
little frown creased her forehead. For the first time there had come
home to her the injustice of the social system under which she and her
friends thrived. No adequate answer came to her. Verinder and Joyce
joined in argument against the young miner, but Moya did not hear what
they said.

She was unusually silent on the way home. Once she looked up and asked
Captain Kilmeny a question.

"After all, two wrongs don't make a right, do they?"

"No, dear girl. Life's full of injustice. I dare say some of the men I
lead are better than Ned Kilmeny, but I've got to forget that and sit
tight in the seat that's been dealt me by the cards. If Jack is trying
to justify highgrading, he hasn't a leg to stand on."

She sighed. "You don't think, do you, that----?"

He answered her broken sentence. "Don't know. He doesn't play the game
by the same rules we do, but my judgment is that the gossip about him
has no basis of fact."

The girl he loved gave him one grateful look and fell again into
silence. She wished she felt more sure. Only that morning she had read
an editorial in one of the local papers warning the men that the
operators were determined to suppr