the hill on the farther side of the valley and sat upon the
schoolhouse steps or wandered in the streets waiting for the day in
school to begin. In the evening mother and son sat upon the steps at
the front of their home and watched the glare of the coke ovens on the
sky and the lights of the swiftly-running passenger trains, roaring
whistling and disappearing into the night.

Nance McGregor talked to her son of the big world outside the valley
and told him of the cities, the seas and the strange lands and peoples
beyond the seas. "We have dug in the ground like rats," she said, "I
and my people and your father and his people. With you it will be
different. You will get out of here to other places and other work."
She grew indignant thinking of the life in the town. "We are stuck
down here amid dirt, living in it, breathing it," she complained.
"Sixty men died in that hole in the ground and then the mine started
again with new men. We stay here year after year digging coal to burn
in engines that take other people across the seas and into the West."

When the son was a tall strong boy of fourteen Nance McGregor bought
the bakery and to buy it took the money saved by Cracked McGregor.
With it he had planned to buy a farm in the valley beyond the hill.
Dollar by dollar it had been put away by the miner who dreamed of life
in his own fields.

In the bakery the boy worked and learned to make bread. Kneading the
dough his arms and hands grew as strong as a bear's. He hated the
work, he hated Coal Creek and dreamed of life in the city and of the
part he should play there. Among the young men he began to make here
and there a friend. Like his father he attracted attention. Women
looked at him, laughed at his big frame and strong homely features and