a spring and attack a new book on pillar and shaft versus the block
system of mining coal.

The busy days went on, and the work grew more absorbing, the
atmosphere more charged with an electricity which foretold
tempest. The president knew that the personality of the young
superintendent almost alone held the electricity in solution
that for months he and his little musical club and his large
popularity had kept off the strike. Till at last a day came
in early May.

We sit at the ends of the earth and sew on buttons and play cards
while fate wipes from existence the thing dearest to us. Johnny's
father that afternoon mounted his new saddle-horse and rode
through the afternoon lights and shadows of spring. The girl,
who had not forgotten, either, went to a luncheon and the theatre
after. And it was not till next morning that Brant, her brother,
called to her, as she went upstairs after breakfast, in a voice
which brought her running back. He had a paper in his hand,
and he held it to her.

"What is it, Brant? Something bad?"

"Yes," he said, breathing fast. "Awful. It's going to make
you feel badly, for you liked him--poor old Johnny McLean."

"Johnny McLean?" she repeated. Brant went on.

"Yesterday--a mine accident. He went down after the entombed men.
Not a chance." Brant's mouth worked. "He died--like a hero--