Semanticate

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 			<h3 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XI</h3>
 			<p>Before long Hal had a chance to see this system of espionage at work, and he began to understand something of the force which kept these silent and patient armies at their tasks. On a Sunday morning he was strolling with his mule-driver friend Tim Rafferty, a kindly lad with a pair of dreamy blue eyes in his coal-smutted face. They came to Tim’s home, and he invited Hal to come in and meet his family. The father was a bowed and toil-worn man, but with tremendous strength in his solid frame, the product of many generations of labour in coal-mines. He was known as “Old Rafferty,” despite the fact that he was well under fifty. He had been a pit-boy at the age of nine, and he showed Hal a faded leather album with pictures of his ancestors in the “oul’ country”⁠—men with sad, deeply lined faces, sitting very stiff and solemn to have their presentments made permanent for posterity.</p>
 			<p>The mother of the family was a gaunt, grey-haired woman, with no teeth, but with a warm heart. Hal took to her, because her home was clean; he sat on the family doorstep, amid a crowd of little Rafferties with newly-washed Sunday faces, and fascinated them with tales of adventures cribbed from Clark Russell and Captain Mayne Reid. As a reward he was invited to stay for dinner, and had a clean knife and fork, and a clean plate of steaming hot potatoes, with two slices of salt pork on the side. It was so wonderful that he forthwith inquired if he might forsake his company boardinghouse and come and board with them.</p>
-			<p><abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Rafferty opened wide her eyes. “Sure,” exclaimed she, “do you think you’d be let?”</p>
+			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Rafferty opened wide her eyes. “Sure,” exclaimed she, “do you think you’d be let?”</p>
 			<p>“Why not?” asked Hal.</p>
 			<p>“Sure, ’t would be a bad example for the others.”</p>
 			<p>“Do you mean I <em>have</em> to board at Reminitsky’s?”</p>
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 			<p>“So you have to trade at the store, too!”</p>
 			<p>“I thought ye said ye’d worked in coal-mines,” put in Old Rafferty, who had been a silent listener.</p>
 			<p>“So I have,” said Hal. “But it wasn’t quite that bad.”</p>
-			<p>“Sure,” said <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Rafferty, “I’d like to know where ’twas then⁠—in this country. Me and me old man spent weary years a-huntin’.”</p>
+			<p>“Sure,” said <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Rafferty, “I’d like to know where ’twas then⁠—in this country. Me and me old man spent weary years a-huntin’.”</p>
 			<p>Thus far the conversation had proceeded naturally; but suddenly it was as if a shadow passed over it⁠—a shadow of fear. Hal saw Old Rafferty look at his wife, and frown and make signs to her. After all, what did they know about this handsome young stranger, who talked so glibly, and had been in so many parts of the world?</p>
 			<p>“ ’Tis not complainin’ we’d be,” said the old man.</p>
 			<p>And his wife made haste to add, “If they let peddlers and the like of them come in, ’twould be no end to it, I suppose. We find they treat us here as well as anywhere.”</p>

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 			<p>On the evening of the same Sunday Hal went to pay his promised call upon Mary Burke. She opened the front door of the cabin to let him in, and even by the dim rays of the little kerosene lamp, there came to him an impression of cheerfulness. “Hello,” she said⁠—just as she had said it when he had slid down the mountain into the family wash. He followed her into the room, and saw that the impression he had got of cheerfulness came from Mary herself. How bright and fresh she looked! The old blue calico, which had not been entirely clean, was newly laundered now, and on the shoulder where the rent had been was a neat patch of unfaded blue.</p>
 			<p>There being only three rooms in Mary’s home, two of these necessarily bedrooms, she entertained her company in the kitchen. The room was bare, Hal saw⁠—there was not even so much as a clock by way of ornament. The only charm the girl had been able to give to it, in preparation for company, was that of cleanness. The board floor had been newly sanded and scrubbed; the kitchen table also had been scrubbed, and the kettle on the stove, and the cracked teapot and bowls on the shelf. Mary’s little brother and sister were in the room: Jennie, a dark-eyed, dark-haired little girl, frail, with a sad, rather frightened face; and Tommie, a round headed youngster, like a thousand other round headed and freckle-faced boys. Both of them were now sitting very straight in their chairs, staring at the visitor with a certain resentment, he thought. He suspected that they had been included in the general scrubbing. Inasmuch as it had been uncertain just when the visitor would come, they must have been required to do this every night, and he could imagine family disturbances, with arguments possibly not altogether complimentary to Mary’s new “feller.”</p>
 			<p>There seemed to be a certain uneasiness in the place.</p>
-			<p>Mary did not invite her company to a seat, but stood irresolute; and after Hal had ventured a couple of friendly remarks to the children, she said, abruptly, “Shall we be takin’ that walk that we spoke of, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Smith?”</p>
+			<p>Mary did not invite her company to a seat, but stood irresolute; and after Hal had ventured a couple of friendly remarks to the children, she said, abruptly, “Shall we be takin’ that walk that we spoke of, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Smith?”</p>
 			<p>“Delighted!” said Hal; and while she pinned on her hat before the broken mirror on the shelf, he smiled at the children and quoted two lines from his Harrigan song⁠—</p>
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 			<p>Tommie and Jennie were too shy to answer, but Mary exclaimed, “ ’Tis in a tin-can ye see it shinin’ here!”</p>
 			<p>They went out. In the soft summer night it was pleasant to stroll under the moon⁠—especially when they had come to the remoter parts of the village, where there were not so many weary people on doorsteps and children playing noisily. There were other young couples walking here, under the same moon; the hardest day’s toil could not so sap their energies that they did not feel the spell of this soft summer night.</p>
-			<p>Hal, being tired, was content to stroll and enjoy the stillness; but Mary Burke sought information about the mysterious young man she was with. “Ye’ve not worked long in coal-mines, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Smith?” she remarked.</p>
+			<p>Hal, being tired, was content to stroll and enjoy the stillness; but Mary Burke sought information about the mysterious young man she was with. “Ye’ve not worked long in coal-mines, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Smith?” she remarked.</p>
 			<p>Hal was a trifle disconcerted. “How did you find that out?”</p>
 			<p>“Ye don’t look it⁠—ye don’t talk it. Ye’re not like anybody or anything around here. I don’t know how to say it, but ye make me think more of the poetry-books.”</p>
 			<p>Flattered as Hal was by this naive confession, he did not want to talk of the mystery of himself. He took refuge in a question about the “poetry-books.” “I’ve read some,” said the girl; “more than ye’d have thought, perhaps.” This with a flash of her defiance.</p>
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 			<p>“I been in two other camps,” she said⁠—“first the Gordon, and then East Run. But they’re all alike.”</p>
 			<p>“But you’ve been down to the towns?”</p>
 			<p>“Only for a day, once or twice a year. Once I was in Sheridan, and in a church I heard a lady sing.”</p>
-			<p>She stopped for a moment, lost in this memory. Then suddenly her voice changed⁠—and he could imagine in the darkness that she had tossed her head defiantly. “I’ll not be entertainin’ company with my troubles! Ye know how tiresome that is when ye hear it from somebody else⁠—like my next-door neighbour, <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Zamboni. D’ ye know her?”</p>
+			<p>She stopped for a moment, lost in this memory. Then suddenly her voice changed⁠—and he could imagine in the darkness that she had tossed her head defiantly. “I’ll not be entertainin’ company with my troubles! Ye know how tiresome that is when ye hear it from somebody else⁠—like my next-door neighbour, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Zamboni. D’ ye know her?”</p>
 			<p>“No,” said Hal.</p>
 			<p>“The poor old lady has troubles enough, God knows. Her man’s not much good⁠—he’s troubled with the drink; and she’s got eleven childer, and that’s too many for one woman. Don’t ye think so?”</p>
 			<p>She asked this with a naivete which made Hal laugh. “Yes,” he said, “I do.”</p>
-			<p>“Well, I think people’d help her more if she’d not complain so! And half of it in the Slavish language, that a body can’t understand!” So Mary began to tell funny things about <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Zamboni and her other polyglot neighbours, imitating their murdering of the Irish dialect. Hal thought her humour was naive and delightful, and he led her on to more cheerful gossip during the remainder of their walk.</p>
+			<p>“Well, I think people’d help her more if she’d not complain so! And half of it in the Slavish language, that a body can’t understand!” So Mary began to tell funny things about <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Zamboni and her other polyglot neighbours, imitating their murdering of the Irish dialect. Hal thought her humour was naive and delightful, and he led her on to more cheerful gossip during the remainder of their walk.</p>
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 			<h3 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XV</h3>
 			<p>Old Mike boarded at Reminitsky’s, and after supper was over, Hal sought him out. He was easy to know, and proved an interesting acquaintance. With the help of his eloquence Hal wandered through a score of camps in the district. The old fellow had a temper that he could not manage, and so he was always on the move; but all places were alike, he said⁠—there was always some trick by which a miner was cheated of his earnings. A miner was a little business man, a contractor who took a certain job, with its expenses and its chance of profit or loss. A “place” was assigned to him by the boss⁠—and he undertook to get out the coal from it, being paid at the rate of fifty-five cents a ton for each ton of clean coal. In some “places” a man could earn good money, and in others he would work for weeks, and not be able to keep up with his store-account.</p>
 			<p>It all depended upon the amount of rock and slate that was found with the coal. If the vein was low, the man had one or two feet of rock to take off the ceiling, and this had to be loaded on separate cars and taken away. This work was called “brushing,” and for it the miner received no pay. Or perhaps it was necessary to cut through a new passage, and clean out the rock; or perhaps to “grade the bottom,” and lay the ties and rails over which the cars were brought in to be loaded; or perhaps the vein ran into a “fault,” a broken place where there was rock instead of coal⁠—and this rock must be hewed away before the miner could get at the coal. All such work was called “dead-work,” and it was the cause of unceasing war. In the old days the company had paid extra for it; now, since they had got the upper hand of the men, they were refusing to pay. And so it was important to the miner to have a “place” assigned him where there was not so much of this dead work. And the “place” a man got depended upon the boss; so here, at the very outset, was endless opportunity for favouritism and graft, for quarrelling, or “keeping in” with the boss. What chance did a man stand who was poor and old and ugly, and could not speak English good? inquired old Mike, with bitterness. The boss stole his cars and gave them to other people; he took the weight off the cars, and gave them to fellows who boarded with him, or treated him to drinks, or otherwise curried favour with him.</p>
-			<p>“I work five days in the Southeastern,” said Mike, “and when I work them five days, so help me God, brother, if I don’t get up out of this chair, fifteen cents I was still in the hole yet. Fourteen inches of rock! And the <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Bishop⁠—that is the superintendent⁠—I says, ‘Do you pay something for that rock?’ ‘Huh?’ says he. ‘Well,’ I says, ‘if you don’t pay nothing for the rock, I don’t go ahead with it. I ain’t got no place to put that rock.’ ‘Get the hell out of here,’ says he, and when I started to fight he pull gun on me. And then I go to Cedar Mountain, and the super give me work there, and he says, ‘You go Number Four,’ and he says, ‘Rail is in Number Three, and the ties.’ And he says, ‘I pay you for it when you put it in.’ So I take it away and I put it in, and I work till twelve o’clock. Carried the three pair of rails and the ties, and I pulled all the spikes⁠—”</p>
+			<p>“I work five days in the Southeastern,” said Mike, “and when I work them five days, so help me God, brother, if I don’t get up out of this chair, fifteen cents I was still in the hole yet. Fourteen inches of rock! And the <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Bishop⁠—that is the superintendent⁠—I says, ‘Do you pay something for that rock?’ ‘Huh?’ says he. ‘Well,’ I says, ‘if you don’t pay nothing for the rock, I don’t go ahead with it. I ain’t got no place to put that rock.’ ‘Get the hell out of here,’ says he, and when I started to fight he pull gun on me. And then I go to Cedar Mountain, and the super give me work there, and he says, ‘You go Number Four,’ and he says, ‘Rail is in Number Three, and the ties.’ And he says, ‘I pay you for it when you put it in.’ So I take it away and I put it in, and I work till twelve o’clock. Carried the three pair of rails and the ties, and I pulled all the spikes⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Pulled the spikes?” asked Hal.</p>
 			<p>“Got no good spikes. Got to use old spikes, what you pull out of them old ties. So then I says, ‘What is my half day, what you promise me?’ Says he, ‘You ain’t dug no coal yet!’ ‘But, mister,’ says I, ‘you promise me pay to pull them spikes and put in them ties!’ Says he, ‘Company pay nothin’ for dead work⁠—you know that,’ says he, and that is all the satisfaction I get.”</p>
 			<p>“And you didn’t get your half day’s pay?”</p>