“No, father, no accident; but the pit was so foul to-night that I believe if I had not interfered the place would have fired.”
“They will do it, Phil; they will do it,” said Mr Hexton, as soon as his son had finished his narration. “I’ve tried all I know to stop it, but they’ll run any risk, especially if they’ve tried the same thing before without accident.”
“Yes, I see that,” said Philip. “It is so hard to make them see that there is danger at one time that does not exist at another.”
“Exactly,” said the elder seriously. “But I’m very sorry about that fellow Parks. He’s a spiteful and dangerous man. I don’t like his owing you a grudge.”
“I’m not afraid, father,” said Philip. “I’ve right on my side. I believe, too, that he is a great coward.”
“Maybe,” said Mr Hexton thoughtfully; “but still I would much rather it had not happened. Bother the fellows! it does seem hard; we are always striving to give them the means of working in safety, and in return they fly in your face.”
“We’ll forgive them that, father,” said the young man smiling, “but we must have the rules of the mine strictly carried out.”
“I’ll back you up, Phil, in anything in reason,” said Mr Hexton; “but look here: be careful—don’t trust yourself in that fellow’s way, my boy. I’m afraid he’s an ugly character, and there’s no knowing to what lengths spite will lead an ignorant man. What shall you do? Haul him up before the bench for threatening language—have him bound over?”
“No, father,” said Philip quietly, as he sipped his tea. “I shall take no further notice. I have shown the men to-night that I mean business, that I am working for their good; and I have no doubt in the end that they will learn to respect me as well as obey.”
“And I wanted to stop him from going down the pit,” said Mr Hexton to himself, as he sat watching his son.