us."
"You're makin' a big mistake, young feller. Ain't this your first day in the breaker?"
"Of course it is."
"Then what about payin' your footing?"
"My footing?"
"Every feller who comes here has got to make things square with us by standin' treat."
"Well I'm one who can't do it."
"Oh, yes you can," and here the bully looked at his companions, who echoed his words, crowding yet closer around Fred, until it was literally impossible for him to make the slightest movement.
"I haven't got a penny, and what I earn is for mother."
"You can get an advance at the store."
"Do you suppose I'll run in debt for the purpose of treating you?"
"That's about the size of it."
"Then you're making a big mistake, for I won't do anything of the kind," and Fred made one desperate attempt to force his way through the crowd.
"Look out for him!" the leader shouted, as he struck Fred a blow on the cheek which would have sent him headlong but for the others who acted as a sort of brace.
The new breaker boy was not disposed to submit tamely, and struck out blindly but vigorously drawing blood from more than one nose before borne to the earth by press of numbers.
While he was thus helpless every fellow who could get near enough dealt him one or more blows, and not until they were tired of the sport did the young ruffians cease.
"Now let up," the leader cried, in a tone of authority. "He's had a dose that shows what we can do, an' will git it ten times as bad to-morrer, if he don't come down with the treat."
The disciplining party ran swiftly toward the settlement when these words had been spoken, probably because a dozen or more miners were approaching, and Fred was left to make his way home as best he could.
He had just staggered to his feet when the men arrived upon the scene; but no one paid any particular attention to him, save as one miner remarked with a laugh:
"I reckon here's a lad who didn't know the rules; but it won't take him long to find them out."
Fred was too sore both in mind and body to make any retort, and he limped down the road believing this first attempt to earn a living was already a dismal failure.
He would have kept the story of the attack a secret from his mother, but for the marks of the conflict which could not be hidden, and when questioned represented the affair as of no especial importance.
Mrs. Byram had a fairly good idea of the case, however, when he said despondently:
"I believe it would be better to try some other kind of work. Why can't we go to the city?"
"Because our capital is so limited. To come here it was only necessary to move our furniture three miles, and the promise of needle-work from the superintendent's family assured us sufficient income to meet the absolute cost of living. But you need not go to the breaker again; it may be possible to find employment elsewhere."
"There's little chance of that in this town, mother," Fred replied with a brave attempt at cheerfulness. "I should be worse than a loafer to remain idle while you were working, and by keeping my eyes open that crowd can't do very much mischief."
"Wouldn't it be better to pay your 'footing' as they call it? Once that has been done there can be no excuse for troubling you."
"I won't give them the value of a penny, and I'll stick to my job. Perhaps, by flogging the bully I can teach them to let me alone."
"But you musn't fight, Fred," Mrs. Byram said, in alarm.
"It's better to have one regular battle than to get such a drubbing as this every night. If they make any more fuss I shall take care of myself."
Now that the first sense of injury had passed away, Fred felt as if he had been at fault to allow himself to be so easily overcome, and, distasteful as was the work in the breaker, he had fully resolved to remain and assert his rights in a manly way.
CHAPTER II
THE WARNING
On the second morning Fred did not present himself at the dingy old building until nearly time for the whistle to sound, and those whom he had good cause to look upon as enemies were already at their places by the chute.
"I heard some of the fellers served you out last night," Chunky said, much as if such proceedings were a matter of course.
"They'd better not try it on again," Fred replied, in a tone of determination.
"Are you goin' to fight?"
"I'll protect myself, if nothing more."
"It won't do any good to try."
"Why not?"
"Because there are too many of 'em, an' Skip Miller can down any feller in this breaker."
"Who is Skip Miller?"
"The boss of the crowd who laid for you."
"Then I'll settle matters with him, and when he gets the best of me it will be time to pay my footing; but not before."
"He'll chew you all up."
"I ain't so sure of that. Did you know what they were going to do?"
"I had a mighty strong s'picion."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Then I'd got a thumping. I wanted you to hurry out with me?"
By this time the work had begun, and the noise was so great that conversation could be indulged in only at the expense of considerable shouting. Fred's hands, sore from the previous day's labor, were cut anew in many places, and more than one piece of slate was marked with his blood as he threw it among the refuse.
The "gang," as Fred termed his enemies, gave no sign of carrying the threat previously made into execution. The watchful eyes of the breaker boss prevented them from idling, and nothing occurred to arouse the new boy's suspicions until just before the noon-day whistle sounded, when a piece of board, thrown while Donovan was not looking, fell at Fred's feet.
At first he believed the intention was to hit him with the missile; but when the stream of coal ceased to flow through the chute, Chunky said as he picked up the board:
"The warnin' has come."
"What do you mean by that?"
For reply Chunky handed his mate the piece of lumber on which was printed in scrawling characters with red chalk:
"PAy OR SkiP.
WE MEAN BiSNEss.
No SNEAkS LoWED HEAR.
ToNiTE iS THE LASt CHANcE.
THE BREAkER REGulATERs."
"So
