There was “Andy,” a boy of Greek parentage; Androkulos was his right name—but it was too much to expect any one to get that straight in a coal-camp. Hal noticed him at the store, and was struck by his beautiful features, and the mournful look in his big black eyes. They got to talking, and Andy made the discovery that Hal had not spent all his time in coal-camps, but had seen the great world. It was pitiful, the excitement that came into his voice; he was yearning4 for life, with its joys and adventures—and it was his destiny to sit ten hours a day by the side of a chute, with the rattle5 of coal in his ears and the dust of coal in his nostrils6, picking out slate7 with his fingers. He was one of many scores of “breaker-boys.”
“Why don't you go away?” asked Hal.
“Christ! How I get away? Got mother, two sisters.”
“And your father?” So Hal made the discovery that Andy's father had been one of those men whose bodies had had to be cut to pieces to get them out of the shaft8. Now the son was chained to the father's place, until his time too should come!
“Don't want to be miner!” cried the boy. “Don't want to get kil-lid!”
He began to ask, timidly, what Hal thought he could do if he were to run away from his family and try his luck in the world outside. Hal, striving to remember where he had seen olive-skinned Greeks with big black eyes in this beautiful land of the free, could hold out no better prospect9 than a shoe-shining parlour, or the wiping out of wash-bowls in a hotel-lavatory, handing over the tips to a fat padrone.
Andy had been to school, and had learned to read English, and the teacher had loaned him books and magazines with wonderful pictures in them; now he wanted more than pictures, he wanted the things which they portrayed10. So Hal came face to face with one of the difficulties of mine-operators. They gathered a population of humble11 serfs, selected from twenty or thirty races of hereditary12 bondsmen; but owing to the absurd American custom of having public-schools, the children of this population learned to speak English, and even to read it. So they became too good for their lot in life; and then a wandering agitator13 would get in, and all of a sudden there would be hell. Therefore in every coal-camp had to be another kind of “fire-boss,” whose duty it was to guard against another kind of explosions—not of carbon monoxide, but of the human soul.
The immediate14 duties of this office in North Valley devolved upon Jeff Cotton, the camp-marshal. He was not at all what one would have expected from a person of his trade—lean and rather distinguished-looking, a man who in evening clothes might have passed for a diplomat15. But his mouth would become ugly when he was displeased16, and he carried a gun with six notches17 upon it; also he wore a deputy-sheriff's badge, to give him immunity18 for other notches he might wish to add. When Jeff Cotton came near, any man who was explosive went off to be explosive by himself. So there was “order” in North Valley, and it was only on Saturday and Sunday nights, when the drunks had to be suppressed, or on Monday mornings when they had to be haled forth19 and kicked to their work, that one realised upon what basis this “order” rested.
Besides Jeff Cotton, and his assistant, “Bud” Adams, who wore badges, and were known, there were other assistants who wore no badges, and were not supposed to be known. Coming up in the cage one evening, Hal made some remark to the Croatian mule-driver, Madvik, about the high price of company-store merchandise, and was surprised to get a sharp kick on the ankle. Afterwards, as they were on their way to supper, Madvik gave him the reason. “Red-faced feller, Gus. Look out for him—company spotter.”
“Is that so?” said Hal, with interest. “How do you know?”
“I know. Everybody know.”
“He don't look like he had much sense,” said Hal—who had got his idea of detectives from Sherlock Holmes.
“No take much sense. Go pit-boss, say, 'Joe feller talk too much. Say store rob him.' Any damn fool do that. Hey?”
“To be sure,” admitted Hal. “And the company pays him for it?”
“Pit-boss pay him. Maybe give him drink, maybe two bits. Then pit-boss come to you: 'You shoot your mouth off too much, feller. Git the hell out of here!' See?”
Hal saw.
“So you go down canyon20. Then maybe you go 'nother mine. Boss say, 'Where you work?' You say 'North Valley.' He say, 'What your name?' You say, 'Joe Smith.' He say, 'Wait.' He go in, look at paper; he come out, say, 'No job!' You say, 'Why not?' He say, 'Shoot off your mouth too much, feller. Git the hell out of here!' See?”
“You mean a black-list,” said Hal.
“Sure, black-list. Maybe telephone, find out all about you. You do anything bad, like talk union”—Madvik had dropped his voice and whispered the word “union”—“they send your picture—don't get job nowhere in state. How you like that?”
点击收听单词发音
1 temperaments | |
性格( temperament的名词复数 ); (人或动物的)气质; 易冲动; (性情)暴躁 | |
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2 stunted | |
adj.矮小的;发育迟缓的 | |
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3 sordid | |
adj.肮脏的,不干净的,卑鄙的,暗淡的 | |
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4 yearning | |
a.渴望的;向往的;怀念的 | |
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5 rattle | |
v.飞奔,碰响;激怒;n.碰撞声;拨浪鼓 | |
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6 nostrils | |
鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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7 slate | |
n.板岩,石板,石片,石板色,候选人名单;adj.暗蓝灰色的,含板岩的;vt.用石板覆盖,痛打,提名,预订 | |
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8 shaft | |
n.(工具的)柄,杆状物 | |
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9 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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10 portrayed | |
v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 );描述;描绘;描画 | |
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11 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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12 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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13 agitator | |
n.鼓动者;搅拌器 | |
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14 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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15 diplomat | |
n.外交官,外交家;能交际的人,圆滑的人 | |
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16 displeased | |
a.不快的 | |
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17 notches | |
n.(边缘或表面上的)V型痕迹( notch的名词复数 );刻痕;水平;等级 | |
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18 immunity | |
n.优惠;免除;豁免,豁免权 | |
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19 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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20 canyon | |
n.峡谷,溪谷 | |
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