When it was all over he fell back a pace, and a grim surprise, not without its hint of satisfaction, was in his face. "The devil take you," he said. "You _have_ got some blood in you, after all." CHAPTER V. THE BEGINNING OF A FRIENDSHIP. The next morning, when he appeared at the Works, Murdoch found he had to make his way through a group of the "hands" which some sufficiently powerful motive had gathered together,--which group greeted his appearance with signs of interest. "Theer he is," he heard them say. And then a gentleman of leisure, who was an outsider leaning against the wall, enjoying the solace of a short pipe, exerted himself to look round and add his comment. "Well," he remarked, "he may ha' done it, an' I wunnot stick out as he did na; but if it wur na fur the circumstantshal evidence I would na ha' believed it." Floxham met him at the entrance with a message. "Haworth's sent fur thee," he said. "Where is he?"--coolly enough under the circumstances. The engineer chuckled in sly exultation. "He's in the office. He didna say nowt about givin' thee th' bag; but tha may as well mak' up thy moind to it. Tha wert pretty cheeky, tha knows, considerin' he wur th' mester." "Look here," with some heat; "do you mean to say you think I was in the wrong? Am I to let the fellow insult me and not resent it--touch me with his foot, as if I were a dog?" "Tha'rt particular, my lad," dryly. "An' tha does na know as much o' th' mester koind as most folk." But the next instant he flung down the tool he held in his hand. "Dom thee!" he cried. "I loike thy pluck. Stick to it, lad,--mesters or no mesters." As Murdoch crossed the threshold of his room, Jem Haworth turned in his seat and greeted him with a short nod not altogether combative. Then he leaned forward, with his arms upon the table before him. "Sit down," he said. "I'd like to take a look at the chap who thought he could thrash Jem Haworth." But Murdoch did not obey him. "I suppose you have something to say to me," he said, "as you sent for me." He did not receive the answer he was prepared for. Jem Haworth burst into a loud laugh. "By George! you're a plucky chap," he said, "if you are an American." Murdoch's blood rose again. "Say what you have to say," he demanded. "I can guess what it is; but, let me tell you, I should do the same thing again. It was no fault of mine that I was in your path----" "If I'd been such a fool as not to see that," put in Haworth, with a smile grimmer than before, "do you think I couldn't have smashed every bone in your body?" Then Murdoch comprehended how matters were to stand between them. "Getten th' bag?" asked Floxham when he went back to his work. "No." "Tha hannot?" with animation. "Well, dang _me_!" At the close of the day, as they were preparing to leave their work, Haworth presented himself in the engine-room, looking perhaps a trifle awkward.