In a mining community serious accidents, and even terrible disasters, are of such frequent occurrence that in Raven Brook the burning of the old breaker soon ceased to furnish a topic of conversation.

It was not until the day after that of the fire that Derrick learned of the presence of mind displayed by the old breaker boss in comprehending his signal on the gong and setting the vertical switch for the dump. As soon as the old man came home that evening, Derrick went to his room prepared to pour out his heartfelt thanks. He had hardly begun when the breaker boss interrupted him with,

“There, that’ll do, an’ I don’t want to hear no more on it. Any fool knows that two gongs means ‘dump switch,’ an’ when one’s been in the mines forty year, man an’ boy, as I have, he don’t take no credit to himself for doing fool’s work. When you get older you’ll know better’n to mention sich a thing.”

“But, Mr. Guffy ”

“That’ll do, I tell ye!” roared the irascible old man. “Clear outen here, and go over to Warren Jones’s; he wants to see ye. Hold on!” he added, as Derrick was about to leave the room. “On your way stop and tell that hunchback butty of yourn to be on hand in the new breaker at sharp seven to-morrow morning, if he wants to keep his job. Do ye hear?”

As he went out Derrick smiled to think of the old man’s pride, which would not allow him to accept thanks or praise from a boy for performing a creditable action.

At the same time the breaker boss was muttering to himself, “He’s a fine lad. If he’d ‘a’ come to grief through any fault of mine I’d never got over it. ’Twon’t do, though, to let him see that I think more of him than of any others of the young scoundrels. Boys allus gets so upperty if they thinks you’re a-favorin’ 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 widely spread and powerful society. In course of time, whenever anybody was mysteriously killed in Ireland, it came to be said that the Mollie Maguires had done it, and so the name clung to them.

“At last the murderous order was introduced into this region by some Irish miners who wished to get rid of an objectionable overseer, and also to control the labor unions among the miners. It has so spread that now its members are known to exist in every mining community of the anthracite country. It is one of the most cowardly organizations ever formed by men, and one of the most cruel. Its victims are given no warning of the fate in store for them, but are struck down in the dark, or from an ambush, by unseen hands.

“Often the murderer has no previous acquaintance with, or knowledge of, the man whom he kills. He blindly obeys the command of his infernal order, and is thus made a tool to avenge some petty grievance or fancied injury.

“The Mollies have become a plague-spot that threatens the health and life of this region. It is the duty of every honest man and boy who is brought into any sort of contact with them to thwart their evil designs in every possible way.”

“Well,” said Derrick, drawing a long breath, “I had no idea that there were such wicked men in this country.”

“No,” he answered the mine boss, “you are but a boy, and have had but little experience in the wickedness of this world; but I know you are brave, and I believe you to be honest and loyal. I am therefore going to trust you, and tell you something that I had no intention of mentioning when I sent for you this evening. It is this:

“I have every reason to believe the Mollies are strong in this colliery, and that they intend to make trouble here. I have lately received several anonymous letters making demands that cannot possibly be granted, and containing vague threats of what will happen in case they are not satisfied. This morning I found this note pinned to my door.”

Here Mr. Jones opened a drawer of his desk, and took from it a dirty sheet of paper, which he handed to Derrick. On it was scrawled the following:

“Bosses take Wornin’. New breakers can burn as well as old. Fires
cost munny. Better pay it in wage to

“Mollie.”

As the boy finished reading this strange communication which was at the same time an admission and a threat, he looked up in surprise and began, “Then you think, sir ”

“Yes,” interrupted the mine boss. “I not only think, but I feel convinced, that the mischief has begun. Moreover, I am determined that it shall end before it goes any further. I am most anxious to discover who is at the bottom of it, and in this I want you to help me.”

“Want me to help!” exclaimed Derrick, in astonishment.

“Yes, you,” answered Mr. Jones, smiling. “Your very youth and inexperience will render you less likely to be suspected than an older person. I am certain that I can count upon the son of my old friend Gilbert Sterling to perform truly and faithfully any duty which his employers may see fit to intrust him with. Is it not so, Derrick?”

“Yes, sir, it is,” cried the boy. “Just tell me what you want me to do, and if I don’t succeed it won’t be because I haven’t tried my best.”

“That is just what I expected you to say,” remarked the mine boss, quietly. “Now we will lay our first plans. I suppose you have had enough of the breaker, haven’t you?”

“Indeed I have, sir.”

“Very well. For a change I am going to offer you a job in the mine where I will give you a bumping-mule to drive. Your wages will be five dollars a week.”

“A bumping-mule?” queried Derrick, in a tone of perplexity not unmixed with disappointment. From the preceding conversation he had expected to be intrusted with something very different from mule-driving; nor had he any idea what sort of an animal the one in question might be.

This time Mr. Jones not only smiled but laughed outright; for, from the boy’s face and tone, he easily understood what was passing in his mind.

“A bumping-mule,” he explained, “is the animal that draws the loaded coal-cars from the chambers, or breasts, to where they are made up into trains. These trains are then hauled by a team of mules to the foot of the slope. Then, when the empty cars are brought back, the bumping-mule distributes them to the several places where they are required. I suppose his title comes from his causing the cars to bump together as he makes them up into trains. In attending to your duties as driver of this most important mule, I can assure you that your time will be fully occupied from the minute you go into the mine until you leave it.

“I suppose,” he added, with a humorous twinkle in his eyes, “that our conversation led you to think you were to be appointed ‘air boss’ of the mine, or placed in charge of a gang at the very least?”

“No, sir,” answered Derrick, a little hesitatingly; “I ain’t quite such a greeny as that. But I don’t see how I can help you very much by just driving a bumping-mule.”

“You can help me in two ways: first, by doing your duty so faithfully that I may be able to depend on you at all times; second, while I am in doubt as to whom I may trust, it will be of great assistance to me to know that there is at least one person constantly in the mine who will be true to the interests of his employers, and on the alert to detect any attempt to injure them.”

“I hope you don’t mean that I am to be a spy in the mine, sir?”

“No, my boy, I do not. I want you to attend strictly to your duties as driver of a bumping-mule. At the same time I want you to consider that your eyes and ears are acting in the place of my eyes and ears. If at any time they see or hear anything which according to your best judgment I ought to know, I hope you will be man enough to tell me of it.”

“Well, sir,” answered Derrick, “I am glad of a chance to go into the mine and to earn five dollars a week. If you will let me do whatever I think is right about telling you things without making any promises, I will keep my eyes and ears wide open.”

“That is all that I want you to do, my boy.”

“All right, sir, then I’ll do my best; and I hope I sha’n’t have anything to tell you except about the bumping-mule.”

“So do I hope so with all my heart, Derrick,” said the mine boss, gravely; “for I am inclined to think that if you have anything else to tell me it will be something very serious and unpleasant. Now you may take this order for a pair of rubber boots and a miner’s cap and lamp over to the store and get the things. Be on hand to go down with the first gang of the morning shift. You will find me in the mine, and I will see that you are properly set to work. Good-night.”

“Good-night,” answered Derrick, as, with the store order in his hand, and his mind full of conflicting emotions, he left the house.

Several miners of the day shift were in the store when Derrick went to present his order. By questioning him as to what he wanted with mine clothes, they soon learned that he was to begin life underground the next day as driver of a bumping-mule.

“De young bantam’ll find it a tougher job than riding empty cars down de slope,” sneered one big ugly-looking fellow, whose name was Monk Tooley, and who was Bill Tooley’s father.

“I reckon you’ve laid in a big supply of cuss-words as a stock in trade! Eh, lad?” asked another.

“No, I haven’t,” said Derrick, flushing hotly. “I don’t believe in swearing, and if I can’t drive a mule without it I won’t drive him at all.”

“Then I reckon you’ll hunt some other business putty quick,” answered the miner with a coarse laugh in which the others joined. “Mules won’t work without they hears the peculiar langwidge they’s most fond of.”

“Well,” said Derrick, “we’ll see.” And leaving the store with his purchases he started homeward. On the way he stopped to deliver Mr. Guffy’s message to Paul Evert, and to tell his friend the great news that on the following day he was to begin the life of a miner.

“I wish I was going with you,” said Paul.

“I wish you were, Polly,” answered Derrick. “Perhaps there will be a chance for you down there before long, and by that time I will have learned all the ropes, and can tell you what’s what.”

Although Derrick had lived much among collieries, he had never been allowed to go down into a mine. His parents had kept him as much as possible from associating with the rough mine lads of the village. Thus, until he went into the breaker to earn his own living, he had held but slight intercourse with them. His friend Paul, being the son of a miner, knew far more of underground life than he, and often smiled at his ignorance of many of the commonest mine terms.

Derrick was a peculiar boy in one respect. He disliked to ask questions, and would rather spend time and patience in finding out things for himself, if it were possible for him to do so. What he thus learned he never forgot.

He was thoroughly familiar with the surface workings of a colliery, and could explain the construction of the great pumps that kept the mine free from water, the huge, swiftly revolving fan that drew all foul air from it, or any of its other machinery. His father’s profession had long seemed to him a most desirable one, and he spent much of his spare time in studying such engineering books as still remained in the house. He loved to pore over his father’s tracings and maps of the old workings. With these he had become so well acquainted that he believed he could locate on the surface the exact spots beneath which ran the gangways, headings, and breasts of the abandoned portions of the mine.

By means of these old maps he had also discovered on the mountain side, more than a mile away, the mouth of a drift leading into a vein worked out and abandoned more than twenty years before. This discovery he kept to himself as a precious secret bequeathed to him by his father, though he had not the slightest idea that it would ever be of any practical value to him.

After leaving Paul, Derrick hurried home to tell his mother the great news that he was to work in the mine and earn five dollars a week, and to show her his mine clothes. He was greatly disappointed that instead of rejoicing over his brightening prospects she only gazed at him without speaking, until the tears filled her eyes and rolled down her pale cheeks.

“Why, mother,” he said, “aren’t you glad? Only think five dollars a week!”

“Oh, my boy, my boy,” she exclaimed, drawing him to her, “I can’t let you go down into that horrible place! ’Twas there your father met his death.”

“Shall I go back to the breaker, then, mother?”

“No, no; I didn’t mean what I said. God has delivered you from one fearful peril, and he can guide you safely through all others. Yes, I am glad, Derrick glad of any step that you take forward; but oh, my boy, be very careful wherever you go. Remember how precious your life is to me.”

Dressed in his new mine clothes, Derrick hurried through breakfast the next morning, and started for the mouth of the slope bright and early.

On his way he met Bill Tooley, who stopped him by calling out, “Look a-here, young feller. They say yer a-going down ter drive my mule.”

“Didn’t know you had a mule,” answered Derrick, pleasantly.

“Well, I did have a mule; an’ what’s more, I’m going ter have him again. Any feller that goes to driving him before I get back will be sorry he ever done it, that’s all. I don’t care if he is the bosses’ pet, and did take a ride in a hand-car.”