"Hey, she do," said Ebenezer, giving a careless glance at his sputtering lamp. "There's part gas in pit to-neet." The dim sputtering lamps, and the warning hiss of the gas were forgotten as the men worked on, showing wondrous skill in the handling of their picks, and fetching out great lumps of coal with the greatest ease, in spite of the awkward position in which they worked. This went on for a couple of hours, when Ebenezer threw down his pick, seated himself with his back against a pillar of coal, one of those left to support the roof, and took from his trousers pocket a steel tobacco-box, a black short pipe, and a nail. "Who's going to hev a smoke?" he said. "I wouldn't let young master ketch you smoking," said one of the men. "He'd better not say owt to me," said the man fiercely. "I know what I'm 'bout better than he can tell me;" and as he filled his pipe several more laughed and filled theirs; while, looking like some black spirit of mischief, the big miner took the gauze lamp from the roof where it hung. "Now then, lads, who wants a leet?" he said; and, taking the nail, he proceeded to pick the lock of the Davy-lamp, or rather unfasten it with the improvised key. There was a click as the little snap flew back; and then, placing his pipe in his mouth, he proceeded to open the lamp. This was about as wise an act as for a man to strike a match over an open barrel full of glistening grains of gunpowder--perhaps far worse. CHAPTER THREE. MAKING AN ENEMY. Even as the big miner had his hand upon the gauze cover of the Davy-lamp there were tiny little explosions going on within, for in spite of the great current of air that was kept up through the pit, a draught which swept away the dangerous gas, there were places which its purifying influence did not reach, places such as this new gallery in the four-foot seam, where the vapour had been steadily increasing for hours and collecting round the heads of the men. Familiarity breeds contempt. Often enough we know that the men who work in gunpowder mills have to be searched to keep them from taking matches with them when they enter the mill. Philip Hexton and his companion went on, the latter ready to grumble as he grew weary of what he looked upon as unnecessary labour. "T'pit was reet enew," he said to himself; and what need was there of "peeking and poking about this how?" For the young inspector seemed never satisfied. He was always on the look-out for danger; and as they went on and on through the black galleries, where the iridescent tints of the shaley coal flecked with iron pyrites glittered and flashed in the dim light, he kept pausing and listening. "He won't stop at it long," said the overman to himself; "he's 'bout scarred of it now. I niver see a lad so freckened at every sound."