Part 50 (1/2)

They looked at me and laughed, but I felt too much stirred to follow their example.

”It is too serious,” I said, ”to treat like that; for I am obstinate now much more than I was, and I should like to show these cowards that we are not going to be frightened out of the town.”

”Cob don't know what fear is,” said Uncle Jack with a bit of a sneer.

”Indeed but I do,” I replied. ”I was horribly frightened when I fell into that place; but the more they frighten me, the more I want for us to make them feel that we are not to be beaten by fear.”

”Bravo!” cried Uncle Bob, clapping his hands.

”There! Let's go on with our work,” said Uncle d.i.c.k; ”we must win in the end.”

To have seen the works during the next few days, anyone would have supposed that there had never been the slightest trouble there. After due consideration the little platform had been replaced and the bands taken from the grindstone gear duly put in position, the men taking not the slightest notice, but working away most industriously.

Pannell, however, did not come back, and his forge was cold, very much to my uncles' annoyance. On inquiry being made we were told that his mother was dying, and that he had been summoned to see her.

I felt a little suspicious, but could hardly believe that anything was wrong, till one evening Uncle Jack proposed that we two should have a walk out in the country for a change.

I was only too glad, for the thought of getting away from the smoke and dirt and noise was delightful.

So as to get out sooner we took a short cut and were going down one of the long desolate-looking streets of rows of houses all alike, and built so as to be as ugly as possible, when we saw on the opposite side a man seated upon a door-step in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, and with his head a good deal strapped and bandaged.

”That's one of the evils of a manufacturing trade where machinery is employed,” said Uncle Jack. ”I'm afraid that, generally speaking, the accidents are occasioned by the men's carelessness or bravado; but even then it is a painful thing to know that it is your machinery that has mutilated a poor fellow. That poor fellow has been terribly knocked about, seemingly.”

”Yes,” I said, looking curiously across the road.

”So far we have been wonderfully fortunate, but--here, this way! Where are you going?”

”Over here,” I said, already half across the road; for the brawny arms and long doubled-up legs of the man seemed familiar.

”Why?” cried Uncle Jack; but he followed me directly.

”Pannell!” I exclaimed.

”What, Mester Jacob!” he cried, lifting up his head with his face in my direction, but a broad bandage was over his eyes.

”Why, what's all this?” I cried; ”have you had some accident?”

”Yes, met wi' acciden' done o' purpose.”

”But they said your mother was dying,” I cried as I held the great hard hand, which was now quite clean.

”Ay, so I heard say,” replied the great fellow.

”Is she better?”

”Better! Well, she ain't been badly.”

”Not dying?” said Uncle Jack.

”What's that yow, Mester?” said Pannell. ”Sarvice to you, sir. My mother!--dying! Well, I suppose she be, slowly, like the rest of us.”