The reporters, who were taking mental notes of his appearance, also gazed curiously at the young man who had come up from the mine with him, and on whom he now leaned. He was a miner, of course, for he was dressed in mine clothes, and was as begrimed as the sootiest delver of them all, but who was he? He had somewhere lost his miner's cap, and the yellow, close-cropped curls of his uncovered head had a strangely familiar look. He noticed their stares, knew what was passing in their minds, and laughingly said: "Yes, fellows; I'm McClain of the _Explorer_, and I guess I've got a beat on you all this time." Then to Derrick he said, "Come, Sterling, we must get out of this; there's a mother waiting for you over there." Just then another car-load of rescued men was drawn up, and again the excited spectators broke forth in a tumult of cheers. Under cover of this diversion, Derrick, half supported by Allan McClain, walked slowly away towards the little vine-covered cottage at the end of the village street. Here his mother awaited him, for she felt that their meeting was something too sacred to be witnessed by stranger eyes. At the mouth of the slope similar meetings were taking place between others who had less self-control or less delicacy, but who, in their way, showed equal affection and deep feeling. Wives greeted husbands who appeared to them as risen from the dead, and mothers wept over sons whom they had deemed lost to them forever. As Monk Tooley stepped from the car, the first to hold out a hand to him was his son Bill, leaning on a crutch, and still bearing traces of his illness. His greeting was, "Well, feyther, we've missed yer sad! Thought maybe yer wouldn't get back no more." "I'm not dat easy got rid of, lad. Had a plenty ter eat, hain't yer?" "Plenty, feyther, sich as it was." "Dat's more'n I have, an' I hope yer've saved a bite fer yer dad. Starvin's hungry work." Nothing else was overheard; but the tones of the rough man and his equally rough son held an unwonted accent of tenderness. As they grasped each other's hand, one gazed curiously at his father's haggard face, and the other cast a pitying glance at his son's rude crutch. Not the least interested spectator of these touching scenes was Mr. Halford, who had arrived that morning from Philadelphia. When, after all the rest had been sent safely to the surface the mine boss was drawn up the slope, and was in turn greeted with a rousing cheer, that gentlemen slipped an arm through his, and led him away, saying, "You have done nobly, Warren, and I am proud to call you brother." "I could have done nothing, Harold, if these brave fellows had not stood by me as they have." "And they could have done nothing without your level head to direct them and your splendid example to stimulate them." So the great colliery disaster was happily ended, and in Raven Brook village great sorrow was turned to great joy.