s; whiskey,
to make your eyes red and your hands unsteady; whiskey, to make your
homes sties and yourselves fit occupants for them; whiskey, to make you
beat your wives and children; whiskey, to cast you into the gutter, the
most loathsome animal in all the world. This is cheap whiskey, but it
costs you dear. All that makes life worth living, all that raises man
above the brute, and all the hope of a future life, are freely given for
this poor whiskey. The man who sells it to you robs you of your money
and also of your manhood. You pay him ten times (often twenty times) as
much as it cost him, and yet he poses as your friend.

"I'm not going to say anything against beer, for I don't think good beer
is very likely to hurt a man. I will say this, however,--you pay more
than twice what it is worth. This is the point I would make: beer is a
food of some value, and it should be put on a food basis in price. It
isn't more than half as valuable as milk, and it shouldn't cost more
than half as much. You can have good beer at three or four cents a
quart, if you will let whiskey alone.

"I promised to tell you how to become capitalists, each and every one of
you, and I'll keep my word if you'll listen to me a little longer."

While Jack had been speaking, some of the men had shown considerable
interest and had gradually crowded their way nearer to the boy. Thirty
or forty Cornishmen and perhaps as many others of the better sort were
close to the car, and seemed anxious to hear what he had to say. Back of
these, however, were the large majority of the miners and the hangers-on
at the saloons, who did not wish to hear, and did not mean that others
should hear, what the boy had to say. Led by McGinnis and the
saloon-keepers, they had kept up such a row that it had been impossible
for any one, except those quite near the car, to hear at all. Now they
determined to stop the talk and to bounce the boy. They made a vigorous
rush for the car with shouts and uplifted hands.

A gigantic Cornishman mounted the car, and said, in a voice that could
easily be heard above the shouting of the crowd:--

"Wait--wait a bit, men! The lad is a brave one, and ye maun own to that!
There be small 'urt in words, and mebbe 'e 'ave tole a bit truth. Me and
me mates 'ere are minded to give un a chance. If ye men don't want to
'ear 'im, you don't 'ave to stay; but don't 'e dare touchen with a
finger, or, by God! Tom Carkeek will kick the stuffin' out e