"It's easy enough for you to say 'nonsense,' Clem Swinton, an' to make game o' men who were handlin' a coal pick when you was playin' with a rattle, but that don't change the facts. Why, even Anton, here, youngster that he is, knows better'n to deny the spirits below ground. The knockers got your father, Anton, didn't they?"
Anton Rover, one of the youngest boys in the mine, to whom the old miner had turned for affirmation, nodded his head in agreement. Like many of his fellows, the lad was profoundly credulous.
From his Polish mother—herself the daughter of a Polish miner—Anton had inherited a firm belief in demons, goblins, gnomes, trolls, kobolds, knockers, and the various races of weird creatures with which the Slavic and Teutonic peoples have dowered the world underground. From his earliest childhood he had been familiar with tales of subterranean terror, and he knew that his father had often foregone a day's work and a day's pay rather than go down the mine-shaft if some evil omen had occurred.
Yet Anton was willing to accept modern ideas, also. Clem was both his protector and his chum, and the boy had a great respect for his older comrade's knowledge and good sense. He was aware, too, that Clem was unusually well informed, for the young fellow was a natural student and was fitting himself for a higher position in the mine by hard reading. This Ohio mine, like many of the American collieries, maintained a free school and an admirable technical library for the use of those workers who wished to better themselves.
How Anton's Father Was Killed.
Miner, failing to test for vibration when tapping roof-slate, goes to work and is crushed by falling slate.