He arose wearily, and went back to the shaft he had so recently vacated, and, notwithstanding the protests of his young associates, took up his pick and worked with fierce energy.
"It's a wee bit o' mental depression that's dropped on me sudden-like," explained he; "an' there's nothing like hard graft for bringing the balance true quickly."
The time passed, and still he smote away with untiring persistency. Then Jack seized the pick from his hand.
"It's time to go aloft and have supper," said he, "then I want to hear you play the flute for a bit. I'm just dying to hear some decent music."
Mackay smiled kindly at the boy. "You've hit me on my tender spot," he made reply. "Do you think you could appreciate 'The Muskittie's Lament' the nicht?"
"Even 'The Muskittie's Lament,'" Jack added valorously.