"Yes," answered one of them, "I saw him come out of his mother's house as I was passing on my way to the slope, more'n half an hour ago."
"Are you sure?" asked Paul, in great surprise.
"Certainly I am. Why not? was there anything strange in that?"
"Yes, we thought he was lost in the mine, and have been hunting for him."
"Well, you were mistaken, that's all, and you've had your hunt for nothing."
Paul was made very happy by this news, though it greatly puzzled him. The other boys were relieved to hear that Derrick was safe, but greatly alarmed as to what fate was in store for them as a punishment for the injuries they had inflicted upon him. Judging from what they would have done under similar circumstances, they did not doubt that Derrick had already spread the story of his wrongs through the village, together with the names of all those who had persecuted him.
At length the party reached the foot of the slope, and Bill Tooley, with his head resting in Paul Evert's lap, and moaning with pain, was sent in an empty car to the surface. The bully had made himself so unpopular by his cruelty, and by his overbearing ways, that nobody except Paul felt very sorry for him. When it was learned that he had received his injuries in consequence of his persecution of Derrick Sterling, the general verdict was that he was rightly served.
The injured boy was carried to his home, whither Paul accompanied him; but the latter was so frightened by the outcries of Mrs. Tooley when she learned what had happened that he hurried away without entering the house. On his way home he stopped at the Sterlings' to inquire if Derrick were really safe, and was much comforted to learn that he had just come in and gone to bed—"Where you should be yourself, Paul," said Mrs. Sterling, kindly, as she bade him good-night.
As the tired but light-hearted boy hobbled into his own home, his father, who had sat up waiting for him, without knowing where he had been, roughly ordered him to bed, saying it was no time of night for lads like him to be prowling about the street.
The sensitive little fellow went up-stairs without a word, all his light-heartedness dispelled by this harsh reception, and the tears starting to his eyes. His back ached so from his unwonted exertions that even after he got to bed he tossed and tumbled feverishly for several hours before falling into a troubled sleep.