Looking about, Hal saw some of the guests of the Harrigan party. There was Vivie Cass, standing under an umbrella with Bert Atkins; and there was Bob Creston with Dicky Everson. These two had on mackintoshes and water-proof hats, and were talking to Cartwright; tall, immaculate men, who seemed like creatures of another world beside the stunted and coal-smutted miners.
Seeing Hal, they moved over to him. “Where did you get the kid?” inquired Bob, his rosy, smooth-shaven face breaking into a smile.
“I picked him up,” said Hal, giving Little Jerry a toss and sliding him off his shoulder.
“Hello, kid!” said Bob.
And the answer came promptly, “Hello, yourself!” Little Jerry knew how to talk American; he was a match for any society man! “My father's went down in that cage,” said he, looking up at the tall stranger, his bright black eyes sparkling.
“Is that so!” replied the other. “Why don't you go?”
“My father'll get 'em out. He ain't afraid o' nothin', my father!”
“What's your father's name?”
“Big Jerry.”
“Oho! And what'll you be when you grow up?”
“I'm goin' to be a shot-firer.”
“In this mine?”
“You bet not!”
“Why not?”
Little Jerry looked mysterious. “I ain't tellin' all I know,” said he.
The two young fellows laughed. Here was education for them! “Maybe you'll go back to the old country?” put in Dicky Everson.
“No, sir-ee!” said Little Jerry. “I'm American.”
“Maybe you'll be president some day.”
“That's what my father says,” replied the little chap—“president of a miners' union.”
Again they laughed; but Rosa gave a nervous whisper and caught at the child's sleeve. That was not the sort of thing to say to mysterious and rich-looking strangers! “This is Little Jerry's mother, Mrs. Minetti,” put in Hal, by way of ............