"Yes, I see that," said Philip. "It is so hard to make them see that there is danger at one time that does not exist at another." "Exactly," said the elder seriously. "But I'm very sorry about that fellow Parks. He's a spiteful and dangerous man. I don't like his owing you a grudge." "I'm not afraid, father," said Philip. "I've right on my side. I believe, too, that he is a great coward." "Maybe," said Mr Hexton thoughtfully; "but still I would much rather it had not happened. Bother the fellows! it does seem hard; we are always striving to give them the means of working in safety, and in return they fly in your face." "We'll forgive them that, father," said the young man smiling, "but we must have the rules of the mine strictly carried out." "I'll back you up, Phil, in anything in reason," said Mr Hexton; "but look here: be careful--don't trust yourself in that fellow's way, my boy. I'm afraid he's an ugly character, and there's no knowing to what lengths spite will lead an ignorant man. What shall you do? Haul him up before the bench for threatening language--have him bound over?" "No, father," said Philip quietly, as he sipped his tea. "I shall take no further notice. I have shown the men to-night that I mean business, that I am working for their good; and I have no doubt in the end that they will learn to respect me as well as obey." "And I wanted to stop him from going down the pit," said Mr Hexton to himself, as he sat watching his son. "It will be a long fight, father," cried Philip, rising and holding out his hand. "Good-night!" he said with a smile; "we've declared war, but I mean to win." CHAPTER SIX. IN GREAT PERIL. There could be no doubt that Philip Hexton did mean to win the fight, and there could also be no doubt that he was going the right way to work to win it. The greater part of the men met his efforts for their good in a surly, churlish way, as people will meet any one who tries to interfere with their cherished notions; but there were others, few though they were, who had the good sense and honesty to own that the young deputy was right, and to join with him in trying to reform the ways of the men in the pit. Ebenezer Parks went on with his work as usual, showing no disposition to resume the quarrel; but Philip noticed one thing, and that was--the man never would look him in the face. No sooner did the young deputy come in sight than Parks bent over his work, or stooped to trim his lamp with the wire that passed through it; he never once gazed frankly and openly in Philip's eyes. Time wore on, and there could be no doubt about it, the mine regulations were better kept, and hence there was less likelihood of an accident occurring, though, of course, the utmost vigilance could not protect those who worked from mishap.