There was a momentary silence as the bright, steely eyes of the smaller man seemed to bore into the foreman’s very soul.
“You don’t know?” he rasped. “You must know! A blast can’t be planted without your knowing.”
The burly giant never hesitated.
“I didn’t know it was planted,” he said in a low tone—“I swear I didn’t. That’s what I brought the powder down for. If you want to know what I think, I bet it was meant for me. There’s a lot of fellows here’s got a grudge agin’ me ’cause they think I drive ’em hard; and I bet one of ’em put that blast there while I was up above, thinking to let it off the first time I went in there. When they seen me go in with Mr. Merriwell, they done the trick.”
“Humph!” snapped Fairchilds. “What made you leave Mr. Merriwell there?”
“I thought I heard you calling me.”
The mine owner looked a little doubtful.
“I did call you,” he said slowly.
He tried to take a step forward, and a twinge of pain crossed his face.
“Get an empty,” he said shortly. “I can’t stand here any longer. I’ve got to go up.”