"Afraid, are you?" sneered the other.
"Yes, I am afraid to work with a man who knows so little of his business as you appear to," answered Peveril.
"Go to the top then, and lave me to finish the job alone. Lord knows, I don't want no dealings with a coward."
"It makes no difference what you want or do not want," answered the younger man steadily, though with a hot flush mounting to his cheeks. "I was sent here for a certain duty, and intend to stay until I have performed it."
"And I've a great mind to do what I ought to have done the first day you struck Red Jacket, and that is to punch your head."
"You shall have a chance to try it when we get to the surface."
"Where you think you'll find friends to protect you. No, by ——, I'll do it now!"
With this the Irishman sprang forward with clinched fists, but the other, being on guard, caught him so deft a blow under the chin that he dropped like a log. Then, with the full exercise of his strength, the young Oxonian picked his enemy up and dropped him into the skip. After doing which he proceeded to complete arrangements for the blast.
He worked with nervous haste, and did not see that his enemy had so far recovered as to be watching him with an expression of deadly hate over the side of the great iron bucket. But it was so, and, just as Peveril had lighted the several fuses, Connell gave the signal to hoist.
The movement of the skip disclosed his devilish purpose in time for Peveril to spring and catch with outstretched arms one of its supporting bars. With a mighty effort he drew himself up, and, in spite of Connell's furious attempts to prevent him, gained its interior.