Charlie Scott Part 6

The light came gradually nearer and nearer, and then Charlie saw it was a lamp carried by a boy who had charge of a little pony and some coal tubs--sort of square tubs on wheels. Brownlee told him that the boys who had that work were called putters; they were occupied in taking empty tubs to the men who hewed the coal, and in bringing away the full tubs, and that they earned good wages: they had a s.h.i.+lling a score for the tubs they removed.

"I should think the poor ponies have a hard life of it," said Charlie.

"Do they take the tubs right away to the mouth of the pit?"

"No, they only go so far, then the engine pulls them to the shaft, and they are drawn up to bank, to be emptied and sent down again."

"We seem to have come a long way," said Charlie.

"About a mile," answered Brownlee; "but we've worked a deal further out that way," pointing to the left. "We're either under the sea or close at the edge, out there."

Charlie gave a little shudder. "Where is my work, please?" he asked.

"Oh, we've pa.s.sed your place; the door we came through last is the one you have to take care of. I'm just taking you round a bit, as you're new to it. Mind your head," he called, as they turned up a low gallery to the right, and they both went along stooping. "Stop there," said Brownlee, creeping along by himself a little further, and sitting on his heels opposite a wall of bright coal. "There," he said, "how would you like to sit cramped up like this for six hours, hewing coal, and hearing the stone above you crack like a gun, and move about as you work, expecting every moment you'll have to run for your life--that is, if you have the chance? I had a narrow escape last winter," he said, as he joined Charlie again; "two of us were working together, and all of a sudden there was an awful crack, like a cannon going off. It was who could scramble up and run quickest, I can tell you. It was my luck to be last, and down came a tremendous piece; the end of it just dropped on my foot as I was running, and it held me as fast as if a mountain had been on the top of me, although I was free all but my foot. None of them durst venture to me for a good bit, for there was an awful noise going on round me, and there I laid as fast as could be, expecting every moment would be my last."

"What dangerous work!" exclaimed Charlie. "I should think n.o.body durst do it if they didn't know they had G.o.d to protect them and take care of them."

"I'll see you to your work now," said Brownlee, turning the subject.

"Here we are," he said; "do you see this seat behind the door? then all you've got to do is to sit here and pull that rope that opens the door when the putters or any of the men want to come through. The boys stay down twelve hours, but I'll see you again before I go up. It'll be lonely for you at first," he said, kindly.

"Rather," said Charlie; "but I must remember that I am not alone."

Brownlee looked at him inquiringly.

"I mean, you know, that we are _never_ alone; that He is always with us," said Charlie, simply, with an upward glance and movement of the head.

"Oh, aye," said Brownlee, hesitatingly, and moving off, as if he felt it was a subject he could not say much upon.

It was strange how that thought clung to the miner--not alone; not alone! It haunted him, and often as he worked he glanced uneasily over his shoulder into the darkness beyond, with a sort of feeling that he was being watched--that there was a presence, an invisible something or some one hovering near, and listening to his very thoughts.

It was quite a relief when a putter or any one came near that he could speak to. Hudson Brownlee had known perfectly well ever since he was a child that "G.o.d is everywhere," but he had never thought about it; he was _realizing_ His presence for the first time, and it made him nervous to feel that he was alone with G.o.d, who was powerful, and whom he had neglected.

We must now go back to Charlie. His duty, if it was dull and lonely, was simple and easily attended to. He had opened the door for a great many boys and men, but he had not seen anything more of Bob White. Charlie remembered he was an old enemy, and had often waylaid himself and the other boys on their way to Mrs. Greenwell's cla.s.s, and ridiculed them.

His saucy, mocking tongue made him the terror of most of the boys in the mine. He had had the run of London streets for ten years, before his mother removed into the north, and was more than a match for most of the north country boys in a battle of words.

CHAPTER IX.

NOT ALONE.

Charlie's morning had pa.s.sed away pretty well, and he began to think it must be dinner time; at any rate he felt hungry, so he sat down and looked to see what his mother had packed up for his dinner. There was a nice little beefsteak pie, just about as much as he could eat, and two or three of his favourite little round cakes to finish with; so Charlie in high glee, spread the cloth they were wrapped in over his knees, said grace, asked himself very politely if he would take a little pie, said thank you, and took the dish. He had eaten about half of it, and was enjoying himself very much when who should he see coming along but Bob White. What should he do? Should he try to wrap his dinner up and put it out of sight, or go on eating? but before he could decide, Bob was upon him.

"Why," exclaimed Bob, pretending to start with surprise, "if here isn't the ladies' pet! and getting his dinner too," said Bob, stooping down to look curiously in the dish that was on Charlie's knee.

"Pie," he remarked, "and very good it looks; what else? Oh, cakes! well, I'm in luck's way to-day, I am," breaking a piece off one and putting it in his mouth. "What's in the can?" he asked, pointing to it with his foot.

"Water," answered Charlie, trying hard to keep his temper.

"Well, you're a one to know manners," said Bob, "never to offer one a place to sit down on--move along. I'll hold the dish;" and suiting the action to the word, he s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, and before Charlie had recovered himself, the rest of the pie was half eaten.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHARLIE AND THE PIE.]

"Give me that dish," said Charlie, trembling with pa.s.sion.

Bob paused, and put on an injured countenance. "Can't you wait until I've finished? shouting out for the dish like that."

Unseen by them both a gentleman was standing in the shade, watching the whole affair, and just as Charlie was rus.h.i.+ng upon Bob like a little whirlwind, he stood out in front of them in the lamplight. Bob dropped the dish in his fright, and stood with his hands hanging down and his mouth open, staring in dismay at Mr. Carlton, the viewer.

Mr. Carlton took out his note-book, and turning to one of the pages, quietly said, "This is the third time, White, that I have found you quarrelling with and tantalizing boys younger than yourself, and neglecting your work. Now this shall be the last time; you leave on Sat.u.r.day night."

All the impudence had faded out of Bob's face. "Oh, sir," he begged, clasping his hands in his earnestness, "please look over it this once.

What shall I do if you turn me off? I dare not tell my mother; you know, sir, that she is ill, and what I earn is all we have. I deserve it perhaps, sir, but she doesn't--just this once!" he pleaded.

Mr. Carlton felt some one touch his sleeve; it was Charlie. "I beg your pardon, sir," said Charlie, in a low tone, "but will you please forgive him this time?"

Mr. Carlton looked at him with surprise. "Are you begging for him? have you forgiven him?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," answered Charlie. "I am very sorry I lost my temper so. I have been well taught, and perhaps he hasn't."

Mr. Carlton considered for a moment.

Bob could not hear what Charlie was saying, but he fancied from his manner that he was telling his wrongs, and a sullen, angry expression spread over his face.

"Come here, White," said Mr. Carlton. "I have consented to look over your bad conduct once more; but remember you owe it to this boy,"

putting his hand on Charlie's shoulder; "he has pleaded for you; he has returned you good for evil: see that you are not ungrateful." He then left them, after asking Charlie his name.

Bob stood still, feeling and looking very awkward. Charlie went up to him, and held out his hand. "You'll shake hands and be friends, Bob, won't you?"

Bob shook hands shyly, and turned away to his work without speaking; but Charlie fancied he saw tears in his eyes.

Soon after it was time for the men to leave. They came pouring out in all directions from the workings of the mine, and Charlie was kept busy.

Hudson Brownlee came nearly last.

"How do you get on?" he asked kindly.

"Oh, pretty well; I'm getting more used to it already."

"Good-bye," said Brownlee, taking a step forward, and then standing still. "What was it you were saying about not being alone?" putting on a careless, off-hand tone.

"Oh," said Charlie, "I meant I should not feel lonely or afraid, because I knew G.o.d was with me. I remember father reading out of the Bible, 'Fear not, for I am with thee;' and I know it is true, don't you?"

"No," said Brownlee, thoughtfully, "I can't say that I do."

"If I had my Bible here, I think I could find the words directly."

"Ah," said Brownlee, "that's a book I don't know much about. You see I'm no scholar. I was careless about learning when I was young, and what little I did know I have almost forgot. It takes me such a while to spell out the words that I lose the meaning."