“In little forge all ready for me when I fired up,” growled Pannell sourly, as he scowled round at the little crowd of men; “but they missed me that time.”
Uncle Jack had a good look round the place, and the workmen stared at us as if in full expectation of being taken to task as the cause of the explosion.
I watched their faces cautiously in search of a look of regret, but the only peculiar expression I could see was on the countenance of Stevens, who stood softly rolling up his shirt-sleeves closer and closer to his shoulders, and there was such a curious smile in his eyes that he inspired me with a thought.
“Oh, if I have been deceived in him!”
That was my thought. For I seemed to see at a glance that he had known the explosion would take place, and that the talk about the dog was an excuse to get me away and save me from the consequences.
Just then Uncle Jack turned round to me and laid his hand on my shoulder.
“Look here,” he said quietly, as if he were showing me a curiosity, but loud enough for all the men to hear—“down in the south of England, my boy, when a workman is disliked it generally comes to a settlement with fists, and there is a fair, honest, stand-up fight. Down here in Arrowfield, Jacob, when another workman does something to offend his fellows—”
“Traäde,” shouted a voice.
“To offend his fellow-workmen,” repeated Uncle Jack.
“Traäde,” shouted the voice again, and there was a murmur of assent.