Inman acted with the promptitude of a man who had formed his plans long before. Baldwin had been unable to repress a sharp exclamation of alarm as he felt the plank incline beneath his feet, and his fingers opened involuntarily but found nothing to clutch and he must inevitably have fallen to the ground if the collar of his coat had not been seized in a strong grip. “I have you! Keep still!” Inman’s calm voice said; and Baldwin felt himself being swayed towards the near pole which was still standing. Inman’s strength was marvellous. He was grasping the newly-erected water-duct with his left hand and resting his feet against the sloping board. The dead weight of Baldwin’s body caused the sharp edge of the woodwork to cut deep into the flesh but he was scarcely conscious of pain as he swung his master towards the pole. “Get your legs round it,” he said. The noise of the fallen ladder and scaffolding had brought out the inmates of the farm and Baldwin was helped to the ground, whereupon Inman lowered himself down without assistance, and Baldwin caught sight of the bleeding hand. “Best have that bathed and bandaged,” he said; and the women took him indoors. Work for that day was finished, and the two men by and by walked back together, Inman’s damaged hand hidden in the pocket of his coat. They had gone some distance before Baldwin spoke, and the gruff words came reluctantly as if pushed from behind by some more generous prompter. “It might ha’ been a nasty fall if you hadn’t grabbed my coat. I’ll say one thing for you—you’ve nerve and strength.” Inman, who was thinking in his heart that he would as soon have wrung the miserable old fellow’s neck, replied carelessly that he was glad that he had saved him from accident and that it would be as well if he was allowed to see to the scaffolding in future. This reminder brought a scowl on to the master’s face and a harder note into his voice. “If Jagger’d ha’ been there—but Abe Thompson’s feet aren’t big enough for Jagger’s shoes. It was him ’at said there was tackling enough on t’ spot without sending any up. Did I read i’ yon papers o’ yours ’at you’ve had a foreman’s job?” “I was foreman at Marshall’s for four years,” he replied. “When I left I was under-manager.” “Then why the devil did you seek a job with me?” Baldwin burst out. “There’s no under-managers wanted i’ my concern, and not likely to be. I’m not one to pay men fancy wages for walking about wi’ their hands in their pockets. I can manage my own business, young man.” “So I’ve observed,” Inman replied—and though there was not the slightest inflection of sarcasm, Baldwin shot a suspicious and half-angry glance at the man’s face. “I’m not seeking any other job but what I’ve got.”