He made his way toward the village ale-house in the best of humors. Arriving at The Crown, he found a discussion in progress. Discussions were always being carried on there in fact, but this time it was not Craddock's particular friends who were busy. There were grades even among the visitors at The Crown, and there were several grades below Sammy's. The lowest was composed of the most disreputable of the colliers—men who with Lowrie at their head were generally in some mischief. It was these men who were talking together loudly this evening, and as usual, Lowrie was the loudest in the party. They did not seem to be quarrelling. Three or four sat round a table listening to Lowrie with black looks, and toward them Sammy glanced as he came in.
“What's up in them fellys?” he asked of a friend.
“Summat's wrong at th' pit,” was the answer. “I canna mak' out what mysen. Summat about one o' th' mesters as they're out wi'. What'll tha tak', owd lad?”
“A pint o' sixpenny.” And then with another sidelong glance at the debaters:
“They're an ill set, that lot, an' up to summat ill too, I'll warrant. He's not the reet soart, that Lowrie.”
Lowrie was a burly fellow with a surly, sometimes ferocious, expression. Drink made a madman of him, and among his companions he ruled supreme through sheer physical superiority. The man who quarrelled with him might be sure of broken bones, if not of something worse. He leaned over the table now, scowling as he spoke.
“I'll ha' no lads meddlin' an' settin' th' mesters agen me,” Craddock heard him say. “Them on yo' as loikes to tak' cheek mun tak' it, I'm too owd a bird fur that soart o' feed. It sticks i' my crop. Look thee out o' that theer window, Jock, and watch who passes. I'll punse that lad into th' middle o' next week, as sure as he goes by.”
“Well,” commented one of his companions, “aw I've gotten to say is, as tha'll be loike to ha' a punse on it, fur he's a strappin' youngster, an' noan so easy feart.”
“Da'st ta mean to say as I conna do it?” demanded Lowrie fiercely.
“Nay—nay, mon,” was the pacific and rather hasty reply. “Nowt o' th' soart. I on'y meant as it was na ivvery mon as could.”