Moreover, they looked upon him as a
type of that perfect manhood toward which each, to the extent of his
poor ability, should strive to climb. Even in his death he had set for
them a shining mark of manly bravery. He had died to rescue others. If
he had been a father to them before, he was a hero to them now. But he
was dead. They had heard his gentle voice and seen his kindly smile
and felt the searching tenderness of his brown eyes for the last time.
They would see his face once more; it would not be like him as he was,
but--they would see it.
They had gathered on the grass-plot, on the hill east of the breaker,
under the shadow of a great oak-tree. There were forty of them. They
were dressed in their best clothes; not very rich apparel to be sure,
patched and worn and faded most of it was, but it was their very best.
There was no loud talking among them. There were no tricks being
played; there was no shouting, no laughter. They were all sober-faced,
earnest, and sorrowful.
One of the boys spoke up and said: "Tell you what I think, fellows; I
think we ought to pass res'lutions like what the miners they done."
"Res'lutions," said another, "w'at's them?"
"W'y," said a third, "it's a little piece o' black cloth, like a veil,
w'at you wear on your arm w'en you go to a fun'al."
Then some one proposed that the meeting should first be duly
organized. Many of the boys had attended the miners' meetings and knew
something about parliamentary organization.
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