"You villain!" cried Philip excitedly, as he rose, and then seated
himself panting upon a lump of coal; "another moment, and you would all
have been lying scorched and dying where you now stand."
"Villain, eh?" roared the great pitman, staggering up with his head
bleeding from a cut caused by his fall, "villain, am I, lad? Then I'll
be villain for some'at."
As he spoke, beside himself with passion, he caught up his miner's pick,
and, but for the quick movement of the young man, would have dealt him
what might have been a deadly blow.
"Nay, nay, Eben, lad," cried one of the men, closing with him, "howd
thee hand: we don't want murder here." But it was not until a couple
more of the miners had seized him by the arms and wrested away the short
sharp pick, that he ceased to struggle.
Philip stood as well as the low roof would allow of the erect posture,
and looked on.
"There lad, thou'st better goo," said one of the men; "and don't thee
coom interferin' agen."
"Interfering!" cried Philip, with spirit, "recollect who I am, and that
I will not have such reckless acts in the mine."
"Oh, it's thy mine, is it?" said the man in a provoking tone. "I didn't
know that. Say, Eben Parks, thee mustn't niver smoke a pipe in Master
Philip Hexton's mine."
"Let me goo!" cried the big miner; "let me goo, I tell 'ee! I'll mak'
such a mark on him as he weant forget again."
"Let him go!" cried Philip angrily, "and let him touch me if he dare;
and let him recollect that there is law in the land for men who commit
assaults, as well as for those who break the rules of the pit."
"I'll put such a mark on him as he weant forget," cried the big miner,
after another ineffectual struggle to be free.
"Why don't 'ee goo!" cried one of the men again. "Thee keeps makin' him
savage wi' staying."
"Loose him, I tell you!" said Philip firmly; and they released the big
miner, who came at him like a bull; but as the young man did not flinch,
but gazed full in his eyes, the great fellow made what we call "an
offer" at him, and then let his arms fall to his side.
"Sithee!" he exclaimed, pointing to his bleeding head, and speaking in a
low, hoarse voice, "thou'st made thy mark on me, and I don't rest till
I've made mine on thee. Now goo, while thee shoes are good; thou'st not
wanted here."
Philip turned from him with an angry look of contempt, and addressed the
men:
"You seem to forget, my lads, that under my father I'm inspector of this
mine."
"Ay, and a nice pass too, for a set o' boys to be put over us, ordering
men about as if they was bairns," growled the big miner.
"And that my orders here are to be strictly obeyed," continued Philip,
ignoring the great ruffian's presence. "Why did you men stand by and
see that fool--I can call him nothing else--I say, why did you, a set of
experienced men, stand by, and see that fellow deliberately break the
most important rule in the mine, and not interfere?"
"S'pose men are going to wuck here through a night shift and not want a
pipe o' 'bacco?" said one of them fiercely.
"I suppose that when you work for a company of proprietors, and receive
their money, you are going to obey their regulations, and are going to
avoid damaging their property, if you will not even take care not to
risk your own lives."
"Bah! Stoof!" exclaimed one of the party. "Theer's no danger."
"No danger!" cried Philip, pointing to the other lamps, "why, you see
for yourselves that the mine is terribly fiery to-night. Shame upon
you! Look how the gas keeps flashing inside the lamps. You know there
is danger. I told you there was danger before you came to work."
"And how did you know?" cried Ebenezer Parks insolently.
"By study, brute!" cried Philip passionately; "by making use of the
brains with which I have been blessed, and not going through life
willing to risk the lives of my fellow-men for the sake of a little
self-indulgence."
"Don't see much self-indulgence, as thou calls it, in having a pipe o'
'bacco."
"Ay! how wouldst thou like to wuck all neet on the neet shift?" cried
another.
"Sithee," cried Ebenezer, spitting in his great black hands and
thrusting his head forward, "thou ca'st me a fool, lad."
"Stand back!" cried Philip, so sternly that the great fellow flinched.
"You are worse than a pack of children," he continued. "Shame on you!
learn to give up your self-indulgence sooner than run such risks."
"Ay, it's easy enew to talk," growled one of the men; "but don't you
think you are coming to lord it over us. S'pose we don't know when
she's safe and when she isn't?"
"If I'm to judge from what I've seen to-night," cried Philip, "I'm sure
you do not know, and that you are not fit to be trusted. Because you
work in a seam and it is safe to-day, do you suppose it follows that it
will be safe to-morrow? I tell you men that you are always working on
the very edge of death through your own folly."
"And I tell 'ee," cried Ebenezer Parks, "that thou knows nowt about it."
"Silence, sir!" cried Philip, whose blood was up; and in a puzzled way,
as if he could not half understand it, the big miner shook his head, and
shrank back astonished that this boy, as he called him, should master
him as he did.
For the big miner had yet to learn that knowledge is power--a power of
ten thousand times greater force than the stoutest muscles ever owned by
man.
"I have never spoken to you before as I am speaking now," cried Philip.
"You force me to it, and I tell you that, while I have the management
here, the regulations shall be strictly carried out to the very letter;
there shall be no evasions--no more of these contemptible tricks. How
did you open that Davy-lamp, sir?" he cried, turning sharply upon
Ebenezer.
There was no answer, and the big fellow actually shrank as Philip made a
sharp movement forward.
But it was not to strike a blow, only to pick up something lying shining
amongst the pieces of coal.
"Just as I thought," said the young man, holding out the nail; "a
contemptible pick-lock, to open the lamps that are locked up, by a wise
rule, for your safety; and you--you great mass of bone and muscle, you
call yourself a man! Shame upon you, shame!"
Without another word, Philip picked up the extinct lamp just as the
overman came up in search of him, placed it under his arm, signed to the
new-comer to lead on, and followed, hot, flushed, and angry, along the
dark galleries, and out of the pit.
"Yah!" growled Ebenezer Parks, breaking the silence that lasted some few
minutes after Philip's steps had died away; "he's nobbut a boy."
"Nobbut a boy, eh?" said one of the men who had held him; "well, all I
can say is, as I hope my bairn'll grow up just like un."
"He was man enew to tackle thee, Eben," said another.
"Ay, he's a plucked un," said another. "I like the lad, that I do."
"Like him!" growled Eben, glaring vindictively round at his companions.
"Man enew for me? Sithee: you know me, lads, and what I can do."
There was no reply.
"Yo' all know me, and what I can do, and do you think I'm going to let a
bit of a boy, wi' his pretence about his larning and studies, bunch me
and ca' me a fool and a brute when I know more about t'mine wi' one o'
my hands than he does wi' his whole body."
Still there was no reply, the men taking up their picks and looking
uneasily at the speaker.
"Tell 'ee what. I'm a man, I am, and a man o' my word. I said I'd put
my mark on him for this job; and I will. Yo' all hear me, don't 'ee? I
say I'll put my mark upon him."
The big miner, with his fierce blackened face and rolling eyes, looked
vindictive enough then to be guilty of any atrocity as he seemed to be
seeking for an answer.
"Yo' hear me? I say I'll put my mark upon him."
"Not thou, lad," said one of his companions at last.
"I tell 'ee I will. Never mind when or wheer. And now wheer's the man
as'll go and tell him what I say?"
No one spoke, and soon after that was heard the regular metallic
_chip_--_chip_--_chip_ of the picks in the black wall of coal, Ebenezer
Parks muttering to himself the while, and thinking of how he could best
revenge himself upon "that boy."