Merest glimpse though he got of the man, he recognised him, for his face was turned towards the light as it lay over the horse’s neck. It was Jago the miner.
“Good Lor’, what’s the maanin’ of et? Why don’t eh stop the hoss?”
“Don’t take me for a Jack-o-Lantern, s’pose?”
Some distance along the stony track the clatter of the hoofs ceased. The Earthstopper ran towards the spot.
“Where are ee, why don’t ee spaake?”
“Heere, An’rew, quick as you can.”
A minute later the Earthstopper, with one hand resting on the mane of the heaving horse, was looking up at the miner’s blanched face.
“What’s the matter wi’ ee, Jago? you looked skeared.”
“Steve es killed by a faal o’ ground. We brought un hoam an hour agone. Et wor moore nor Mawther could stand. Her rason’s clane gone.”
“Can I help ee?”