Part 4 (1/2)
In his shockingly cramped quarters Purves changed steel; s.h.i.+fted the position of his Sullivan's mounting bar; cut new foot-holes; kept on at his man-killing task until the set of powder-holes was in. Then he dismounted the heavy drill and, wriggling backwards, lugged it and its appurtenances out into the main stope to make room for the powderman.
As he straightened up, half paralyzed by the position and the strain of his recent labors, another big man lunged roughly against him.
”Wot tha h.e.l.l-sock me, w.i.l.l.ya?” the man roared, and swung his steel-backed timberman's glove against Purves' mouth and jaw.
Purves went down.
”Watcha tryin' to pull off, Frank?” the s.h.i.+ft-boss yelled, rus.h.i.+ng up and jerking his thumb toward the rise. ”You know better'n that-fightin' underground. You're firedgo on top an' get yer time.”
”Wha'd'ya mean, fired?” Frank growled. ”He started it, the crumb. He slugged me first.”
”You're a G.o.ddam liar,” the powderman spoke up, setting his soft-leather bag of low explosive carefully down against the foot of the hanging wall. ”I seen it. Purve didn't do nothin'. Not a G.o.ddam thing. Besides, he wasn't in no shape to. He didn't lift a finger. You socked him fer nothin'.”
”Oh, yeah?” Frank sneered. ”Stone blind all of a sudden, I guess? I leave it to tha rest of 'em= waving a ma.s.sive arm at the two mockers and the electrician, now standing idly by, ”-if he didn't sock me first. They all seen it.”
All three nodded, and the electrician said, positively, ”Sure Purve socked him first. We all seen'im do it” Purves struggled to his feet. He shook off a glove, wiped his bleeding mouth, and stared for a moment at the blood-smeared back of his hand. Then, and still without a word, he bent over and picked up a three-foot length of inch-and-a-quarter steel.
”Hold it, Purve-hold it!” The s.h.i.+ft-boss put both hands against the big man's chest and pushed, and the atrocious weapon dropped with a clang to the hard-rock floor. ”Tha.s.s better. They's somethin' d.a.m.n screwy here. It just don't jibe.”
He crossed over to his telephone and dialed. ”Say boss, what do I do when I fire a nape fer startin' a fight underground-an' he won't go out on top? An' three other b.a.s.t.a.r.ds say somethin' I saw good an' plain with my own eyes didn't hap... okay, I'll hold... okay... yeah... but listen. Mr. Speers' office! Tha.s.s takin' it awful high up, ain't it, just to fire a nogoodnik that... okay, okay, now you hold it.” Turning his head, the s.h.i.+ft-boss said, ”They want us all up on top an' they wanta know if you wanta go up under yer own air or will they send down some guards an' drag y'all tha way up there by yer G.o.ddam feet?”
They did not want to be dragged, so s.h.i.+ft Boss McGuire said, into the phone, ”Okay, we're on our way up,” and hung up.
The seven men wriggled down the rise-the steeply sloping pa.s.sage, about the diameter of a barrel, that was the only opening into the stope-to the tributary tunnel some three hundred feet below. As they were walking along this tunnel toward the main drift and its electric cars, Purves said: ”You said it, Mac, about it's bein' a h.e.l.l of a long ways up to have to take firin' a louse like him. What'd they say?”
”Nothin',” McGuire said. ”Nothin' at all.”
”The higher the better,” the electrician-who had done most of the talking up in the stope-growled. ”The bigger the man we can get up to with this thing, the harder you three finkin' b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are goin' to get the boots put to ya. You ain't got a prayer. It's four to three, see?”
”Hold it, Purve-I said hold it!” McGuire shouted, grabbing the miner's right arm with both bands and hanging on-and Purves did stop his savage motion. ”Like I said, Purve, this whole deal stinks. It don't add up noways. An' what surprised me most was that n.o.body up on top was surprised at all.”
”Huh?” the electrician demanded, with a sudden change in manner and expression. ”Why not? Why wasn't they?”
”I wouldn't know,” the s.h.i.+ft-boss replied, quietly, ”but we'll maybe find out when we get up there. But I'm tellin' you four apes somethin' right now. Shut up and stay shut up. If any one of you opens his trap just one more time I'll let Purve here push a mouthful of teeth down his G.o.ddam throat.”
Wherefore the rest of the trip to the office of Superintendent Speers, the Big Noise of the Little Gem, was made in silence.
Charles Speers was a well-built, well-preserved man nearing sixty. His hair, although more white than brown, was still thick and bushy. His eyes, behind stainless-steelrimmed trifocals, were a clear, sharp gray. His narrow, close-clipped mustache was brown. When his visitors were all seated he pushed a b.u.t.ton on his desk, looked at the s.h.i.+ft-boss and said: ”Mr. McGuire, please tell me what happened; exactly as you saw it happen.” McGuire told him and he looked at the powderman. ”Mr. Bailey, I realize that no two eyewitnesses ever see any event in precisely the same way, but have you anything of significance to add to or subtract from Mr. McGuire's statement of fact'?”
”No, sir. That's the way it went.”
”Mr. Purves, did you or did you not strike the first blow?”
”I did not, sir. I'll swear to that. I didn't lift a finger-not 'til after, I mean. Then I lifted a piece of steel, but Mac here stopped me before I could hit him with it.”
”Thank you. This is interesting. Very.” Speers' voice was as clipped as his mustache. ”No A,, Mr. Grover C. s.h.i.+elds -or whatever your real name may be-as a non-partic.i.p.ating witness and as spokesman apparent for the majority of those present at the scene of violence, please give me your version of the affair.”
”They're lyin' in their teeth, all three of 'em,” the electrician growled, sullenly. ”But what's that real name' crack supposed to mean? An' say, are ya puttin' all this c.r.a.p on a record?”
”Certainly. Why not? However, this is not a court of law and you are not under oath, so go ahead.”
”Not me. Not by a damsight, you fine-feathered slicker. Not without a mouthpiece, an' n.o.body else does, neither.” ”That's smart of you. And you're still sticking to the argot, eh, Mr.-ah-s.h.i.+elds?” The mine superintendent's smile was exactly as humorous as the edge of a cut throat razor. ”Such camouflage is of course to be expected. Come over here to the desk, please. I would like to glance at your hands.”
”Like bell you will!” s.h.i.+elds snarled, leaping to his feet. ”We're gettin' tha h.e.l.l outa here right now!”
”Mr. Purves,” Speers said, quietly, ”I would like to look at that man's hands. Don't break him up any more than is necessary, but I want those hands flat on this desk, palms up.”
Since s.h.i.+elds was already on his feet, he reached the desk and spread his hands out flat before Purves touched him, exclaiming as he (lid so, ”An' that's on record, too, wise guy!”
”I'm afraid it may not be,” Speers said, gently, shaking his head. ”This machine is not a new model; it misses an item occasionally. But you see what I mean?” Speers paused, and from the ceiling above there came the almost inaudible click of a camera shutter. ”When did those hands ever do any real work? Resume your seat, please.” The alleged electrician did so. ”I have here seven personnel cards, from which I will read certain data into the record. George J. McGuire, s.h.i.+ft Boss, length of service twenty four years, black spots-demerits, that is-nineteen. Clinton F. Bailey, Powderman, fifteen years, ten demerits. Grant H. Purves, Top Miner, twelve years, eight demerits. Each of these three has four or five times as many stars as black spots.
”On the other hand, John J. Smith, Mucker, forty three days and thirty three demerits. Thomas J. Jones, Mucker, twenty nine days and thirty one demerits. Frank D. Ormsby, Timberman, twelve days and twenty demerits. Grover C. s.h.i.+elds, Electrician, five days and eleven demerits. There are no stars in this group. These data speak for themselves. The discharge of Ormsby is sustained. I hereby discharge the other three-Sheilds, Smith, and Jones - myself. You four go back, change your clothes, pick up your own property, turn in company property, and leave.
Your termination papers and checks will be in the mail tonight. Get out.”
They got.
Speers pressed a b.u.t.ton and his secretary, a gray-haired, chilled-steel virgin of fifty, came in. ”Yes, sir?” ”Please take Mr. Purves there,” he pointed, ”over across and let the doctors look at him.”
”Oh, this ain't nothin'...” the miner began.
”It would be if I had it.” Speers smiled; a genuine smile. ”You do exactly what the doctors tell you to do. Okay?”
”Okay, sir. Thanks.”
”And Miss Mills, he's on full time until they let him go back to work full time.”
”Yes, sir. Come with me, young man,” and she led the big miner out of the room.
Still smiling, Speers turned to the two remaining men. ”Are you wondering what this is all about, or do you know?'
”I could maybe guess, if there'd been any UCM organizers around,” McGuire said, ”but I ain't heard of any. Have you, Clint?”
”Uh-uh.” The powderman shook his head. ”I been kinda expectin' some, but there ain't been even a rumble yet.” ”Those four men were undoubtedly UCM goons. They will claim that Ormsby was a.s.saulted and that all four of them were fired because of talking about unionization -for merely sounding out our people's att.i.tude toward unionization. Tomorrow, or the next day at latest, the UCM will bottle us up tight with a picket line.”
”But it'd be a G.o.ddam lie!” Bailey protested.
”Sure it would,” McGuire agreed. ”But they've pulled some awful raw stuff before now an' got away with it. D'you think they can get away with it here, Mr. Speers?”
”That's the jackpot question. With the Labor Relations Board, yes. Higher up, it depends... but I want to do a little sounding out myself. When we close down, we'll try to place everyone somewhere, of course; but in the event of a very long shut-down, McGuire, how would you like to go out to one of the outplanets?”
”I couldn't. I don't know nothin' but copper-minin'.” ”I mean at copper mining.”
”Huh?” The s.h.i.+ft-boss was so amazed as to forget temporarily that he was talking to the Big Boss. ”They ain't none. They ain't gonna be none. The UCM won't stand fer none.”
”But suppose there were some?”