The brawny hand trembled so that the flame from the spout of the little lamp went up in tiny waves.
“Whaur—whaur happenit it—i’ what place—i’ what mine?”
“Up in Carbondale. No. 6 shaft, I think it was; yes, No. 6.”
Bennie spoke somewhat hesitatingly. His quick ear had caught the change in the man’s voice, and he did not know what it could mean.
“His name, lad! gi’ me the father’s name!”
The giant’s huge hand dropped upon Bennie’s little one, and held it in a painful grasp. The boy started to his feet in fear.
“You won’t hurt me, sir! Please don’t hurt me; I can’t see!”
“Not for the warld, lad; not for the whole warld. But I must ha’ the father’s name; tell me the father’s name, quick!”
“Thomas Taylor, sir,” said Bennie, as he sank back, trembling, on the bench.