CHAPTER XV
A HIGHGRADER--IN PRINCIPLE
In spite of the warm defense she had made of Kilmeny, the heart of Moyawas troubled. She knew him to be reckless. The boundaries of ethicalconduct were not the same for him as for Lord Farquhar, for instance. Hehad told her as much in those summer days by the Gunnison when they werefirst adventuring forth to friendship. His views on property and on thestruggle between capital and labor were radical. Could it be that theycarried him as far as this, that he would take ore to which others hadtitle?
The strange phase of the situation was that nobody in Goldbanks seemedto give any consideration to the moral issue. If rumor were true, thedistrict attorney and a good many of the business men of the town wereengaged in disposing of this ore for the miners on a percentage basis.Between the miners and the operating companies was war. If a workmancould get the better of the owners by taking ore that was a point to hiscredit. Even Verinder and Bleyer at bottom regarded the matter as aquestion of strength and not as one of equity.
Moya was still in process of thinking herself and life out. It was toher an amazing thing that a whole community should so lose its sense ofvalues as to encourage even tacitly what was virtually theft. She didnot want to pass judgment upon Goldbanks, for she distrusted her horizonas narrow. But surely right was right and wrong wrong. Without a stab ofpain she could not think of Jack Kilmeny as engaged in this illicittraffic.
In her heart she was afraid. Bleyer was a man to be trusted, and ineffect he had said that her friend was a highgrader. Even to admit adoubt hurt her conscience as a disloyalty, but her gropings brought nocertainty of his innocence. It would be in keeping with the man'scharacter, as she read it, not to let fear of the consequences hold himfrom any course upon which he was determined. Had he not once warned herin his whimsical smiling way that she would have to make "a heap ofallowances" for him if she were to remain his friend? Was it this towhich he had referred when he had told her he was likely to disappointher, that a man must live by the code of his fellows and judge right andwrong by the circumstances? Explicitly he had given her to understandthat his standards of honesty would not square with hers, since he livedin a rough mining camp where questions had two sides and were not to bedetermined by abstract rule.
As for Joyce, the charges against Kilmeny did not disturb her in theleast. He might be all they said of him and more; so long as heinterested her that was enough. Just now her head was full of the youngman. In the world of her daydreams many suitors floated nebulously. Pastand present she had been wooed by a sufficient number. But of them allnot one had moved her pulses as this impossible youth of the unmappeddesert West had done. Queer errant impulses tugged at herwell-disciplined mind and stormed the creed of worldliness with whichshe had fenced her heart.
A stroll to view the sunset had been arranged by the young people upwhat was known as Son-of-a-Gun Hill. Moya walked of course with CaptainKilmeny, her betrothed. Joyce saw to it that Verinder was paired withIndia, Jack Kilmeny falling to her lot. Since India knew that her escortwas eager to get with Miss Seldon, she punished his impatience byloitering far behind the others.
During the past few days Jack had pushed his tentative suit boldly butlightly. He understood that Joyce was flirting with him, but he divinedthat there had been moments when the tide of her emotion had swept theyoung woman from her feet. She was a coquette, of course, but when hiseyes fell like a plummet into hers they sounded depths beneath thesurface foam. At such times the beat of the surf sounded in his blood.The spell of sex, with all its fire and passion, drew him to this lovelycreature so prodigal of allure.
The leading couples stood for a moment's breathing space near thesummit. Beneath them the squalid little town huddled in the draw and ransprawling up the hillsides. Shaft-houses and dumps disfigured even thebusiness street.
Joyce gave a laughing little shudder. "Isn't it a horrid little hole?"
Jack looked at her in surprise, but it was Moya that answered.
"Oh, I don't think so, Joyce. Of course it's not pretty, but--doesn't itseem to stand for something big and--well, indomitable? Think of all themiles of tunnels and stopes, of all the work that has gone into makingthem." She stopped to laugh at her own enthusiasm before she added:"Goldbanks stands to me for the hope in the human heart that rises inspite of everything. It is the product of an idea."
Miss Seldon gave a little lift to her superb shoulders. "You'reincurably romantic, Moya. It's only a scramble for money, after all."
"Don't know about that, Miss Seldon," disagreed Captain Kilmeny. "Ofcourse it's gold they all want. But gold stands for any number of goodthings, tangible and abstract--success, you know, and home, and love,and kiddies, the better development of the race--all that sort ofthing."
"Is that what it means to the highgraders too?" Joyce let her smilingeyes rest with innocent impudence in those of the miner.
Kilmeny showed no sign of discomfiture. His gaze met hers fully andsteadily. "Something of that sort, I suppose."
"Just what _is_ a highgrader?"
Moya held her breath. The debonair lightness of the question could notrob it of its significance. Nobody but Joyce would have dared such ahome thrust.
Jack laughed dryly. "A highgrader is a miner who saves the company forwhich he works the trouble of having valuable ore smelted."
"But doesn't the ore belong to the company?"
"There's a difference of opinion about that. Legally it does, morally itdoesn't--not all of it. The man who risks his life and the support ofhis family by working underground is entitled to a share of the profit,isn't he?"
"He gets his wages, doesn't he?"
"Enough to live on--if he doesn't want to live too high. But is that allhe is entitled to? Your friend"--he waved a hand toward Verinder,puffing up the trail a hundred yards below--"draws millions of dollarsin dividends from the work of these men. What does he do to earn it?"
"You're a socialist," charged Joyce gayly. "Or is it an anarchist thatbelieves such dreadful things?"
"Mr. Kilmeny doesn't quite believe all he says," suggested Moya quietly.
"Don't I?" Behind Jack's quizzical smile there was a hint ofearnestness. "I believe that Dobyans Verinder is a parasite inGoldbanks. He gobbles up the product of others' toil."
Joyce flashed at him a swift retort. "Then if you believe that, youought to be a highgrader yourself."
"Joyce," reproved Moya, aghast.
"I mean, of course, in principle," her friend amended, blushing slightlyat her own audacity.
Her impudence amused the miner. "Perhaps I am--in principle."
"But only in principle," she murmured, tilting a radiant challenge athim.
"Exactly--in principle," he agreed. There was humor in his saturnineface.
Joyce ventured one daring step further. "But of course in practice----"
"You should have been a lawyer, Miss Seldon," he countered. "If youwere, my reply would be that by advice of counsel I must decline toanswer."
"Oh, by advice of counsel! Dear me, that sounds dreadfully legal,doesn't it, Moya? Isn't that what criminals say when----?"
"----When they don't want to give themselves away. I believe it is," hetossed back with the same lightness. "Before I make confession I shallwant to know whether you are on my side--or Verinder's."
Under the steady look of his bold, possessive eyes the long silkenlashes fell to the soft cheeks. Joyce understood the unvoiced demandthat lay behind the obvious one. He had thrown down the gage of battle.Was she for Verinder or for him? If he could have offered her one-halfthe advantages of his rival, her answer would not have been in doubt.But she knew she dared not marry a poor man, no matter how wildly hispresence could set her pulses flying or how great her longing for him.Not the least intention of any romantic absurdity was in her mind. Whenthe time came for choice she would go to Verinder and his millions. Butshe did not intend to let Jack Kilmeny go yet.
She lifted to him a face flushed and excited, answering appa
rently hiswords and not his thoughts. "I haven't decided yet. How can I tell tillI hear what you have to say for yourself?"
"You couldn't find a more charming sister confessor for your sins," thecaptain told his cousin.
"I'll do my best," Joyce promised. Then, with a flash of friendlymalice: "But I haven't had the experience of Moya. She is just perfectin the role. I know, because she hears all mine."
Moya flushed resentfully. She did not intend to set up for a prude, butshe certainly did not mean to treat highgrading as if it were a joke. IfJack Kilmeny was innocent, why did he not indignantly deny the charge?
"Afraid I'll have to be excused," she said, a little stiffly.
"Miss Dwight doesn't approve of me," explained the miner. "If Iconfessed to her she would probably turn me over to the sheriff."
The girl's quick eyes flashed into his. "I don't approve of taking orethat doesn't belong to one--if that's what you mean, Mr. Kilmeny."
Jack liked the flare of temper in her. She was very human in herimpulses. At bottom, too, he respected the integrity of mind thatrefused to compromise with what she thought was wrong.
But no admission of this showed in his strong brown face. His mordanteyes mocked her while he went into a whimsical argument to show thathighgrading was really a virtue, since it tended to keep the rich fromgrowing richer and the poor poorer. He wanted to know by what moralright Verinder owned the Mollie Gibson and the Never Quit any more thanhe did.
The mine owner, puffing from the exertions of the last bit of ascent,exclaimed indignantly: "Own 'em, by Jove! Doesn't a Johnny own what hebuys and pays for?"
"You don't suppose that when God or Nature or the First Cause createdthat ore vein a million years ago he had Dobyans Verinder in mind as theowner," derided Kilmeny.
"That's all anarchistic rot, you know. Those mines are my property, atleast a commanding interest. They're mine because I bought the shares.Government is founded on a respect for property rights."
"So I've observed," retorted Jack dryly. "I'd back that opinion, too, ifI owned half of Goldbanks."
"I suppose Mr. Kilmeny's highgrading friends are superior to law. Itisn't necessary for them to abide by the rules society has found bestfor its protection," Moya suggested.
The engaging smile of the accused rested upon Miss Dwight. "I met youand your friends in a motor car yesterday. I'll bet that speedometersaid twenty-five miles, but the town ordinance puts the speed limit atfifteen. What about that?"
"You know that's different. No moral question was involved. But when itcomes 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, toJack Kilmeny, say for the sake of argument? I go down there and risk mylife blasting it out. He----"
"But you don't," interrupted Moya.
"Not to-day perhaps--or yesterday. But I did last year and the yearbefore that. I've brought up in my arms the bodies of men torn to piecesand carried them to their wives and kiddies. How about those women andchildren? Haven't they earned an interest in the mine? Isn't their moralclaim greater than that of Mr. Verinder, who sits in London and drawsthe dividends?"
"They are pensioned, aren't they?"
"They are not," returned Jack curtly. "The mine owners of Goldbanksdon't believe in encouraging negligence. If these workmen hadn't takenchances they probably would not have been killed, you see. But if theydidn't take chances none of the men could earn a living for theirfamilies. It is plain how very much to blame they are."
Moya looked across the summits of the hills into the brilliant sunsetthat lay like a wonderful canvas in the crotch of the peaks. A troubledlittle frown creased her forehead. For the first time there had comehome to her the injustice of the social system under which she and herfriends thrived. No adequate answer came to her. Verinder and Joycejoined in argument against the young miner, but Moya did not hear whatthey said.
She was unusually silent on the way home. Once she looked up and askedCaptain 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 Ilead are better than Ned Kilmeny, but I've got to forget that and sittight in the seat that's been dealt me by the cards. If Jack is tryingto 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 gameby the same rules we do, but my judgment is that the gossip about himhas no basis of fact."
The girl he loved gave him one grateful look and fell again intosilence. She wished she felt more sure. Only that morning she had readan editorial in one of the local papers warning the men that theoperators were determined to suppress highgrading at any cost, even ifsome of the more flagrant offenders had to be sent to the penitentiary.That such a fate could befall Jack Kilmeny was unthinkable. Yet whatmore likely than that the managers should choose him for an example ifthey could prove him guilty?
The dusk had fallen over the hills and the lights were glimmering outfrom the town below through the growing darkness. Captain Kilmeny walkedbeside his slim, tall, worshipful sweetheart with a heavy heart. She washis promised bride. That she would keep faith he did not doubt. But theprogress that he made in winning her love was so little that he seemedto himself to be marking time. The shadow of his vagabond cousin stilllay between them.