Philip stood as well as the low roof would allow of the erect posture, and looked on.
“There lad, thou’st better goo,” said one of the men; “and don’t thee coom interferin’ agen.”
“Interfering!” cried Philip, with spirit, “recollect who I am, and that I will not have such reckless acts in the mine.”
“Oh, it’s thy mine, is it?” said the man in a provoking tone. “I didn’t know that. Say, Eben Parks, thee mustn’t niver smoke a pipe in Master Philip Hexton’s mine.”
“Let me goo!” cried the big miner; “let me goo, I tell ’ee! I’ll mak’ such a mark on him as he weant forget again.”
“Let him go!” cried Philip angrily, “and let him touch me if he dare; and let him recollect that there is law in the land for men who commit assaults, as well as for those who break the rules of the pit.”
“I’ll put such a mark on him as he weant forget,” cried the big miner, after another ineffectual struggle to be free.
“Why don’t ’ee goo!” cried one of the men again. “Thee keeps makin’ him savage wi’ staying.”
“Loose him, I tell you!” said Philip firmly; and they released the big miner, who came at him like a bull; but as the young man did not flinch, but gazed full in his eyes, the great fellow made what we call “an offer” at him, and then let his arms fall to his side.
“Sithee!” he exclaimed, pointing to his bleeding head, and speaking in a low, hoarse voice, “thou’st made thy mark on me, and I don’t rest till I’ve made mine on thee. Now goo, while thee shoes are good; thou’st not wanted here.”