"
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
looked again. When they spoke to him in the bakery or on the street he
spoke back fearlessly and looked them in the eyes. Young girls in the
school walked home down the hill with other boys and at night dreamed
of Beaut McGregor. When some one spoke ill of him they answered
defending and praising him. Like his father he was a marked man in the
town of Coal Creek.
CHAPTER II
One Sunday afternoon three boys sat on a log on the side of the hill
that looked down into Coal Creek. From where they sat they could see
the workers of the night shift idling in the sun on Main Street.
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