It was quite true. Philip Hexton was startled at every sound; but it was from fear for others--not for self. So far from feeling the ordinary coward's dread, he would have gone at once into the most dangerous places to save another's life; but he was at times appalled at the reckless ways of the men. In one gallery the roof, as the light glimmered upon it, was one beautiful fret-work of ancient vegetation, being carved, as it were, into knotted stems full of beautiful flutings. Huge ferny leaves could be seen bending in graceful curves, and here and there, shining like cuttings in jet, traces of the cone-like fruit borne by some of the trees of that far-back age when the coal was deposited in bituminous beds. These geological remains had a great interest for Philip Hexton, and he promised himself plenty of amusement when his time of leisure came. At present it was all work--extremely hard work, for, until he could thoroughly master every technicality in the pit, he felt himself to be at a great disadvantage with the men. "Yo' weant be so partic'lar when yo've been here a few year, Master Hexton," said the overman, as they were making their way down a wide gallery whose coal had been worked out long enough before, and across which part of the mine they were passing to reach a distant portion where the men were at work on the "new four-foot." "Indeed!" said Philip, smiling, "I think you'll find me twice as strict." "Not yo'," chuckled the man; "I used to think the same when I was young; but, bless thee, lad, a man's life would be a burden to him if he was fancying the pit o' fire at every bit of gas. There'd be no coal-mining at all, for the lads'd be too scarred to come down." "If I live and have my way," said Philip sternly, "the pit here shall be so safe that work can go on in peace for every one, and every man shall act as guardian of his fellow's safety." "Sounds very pratty, lad," said the overman, "but it weant wuck. Look here, there's a bit o' gas in this corner." He held the lamp up close to the roof, and tiny explosions again began inside the gauze. Then he lowered the lamp, and they ceased, showing how light the explosive gas was, and how it floated about the roof. "Sithee," continued the overman, holding up the lamp again, so that Philip could make out that there was a rift above their heads, where at some time or other the roof had fallen; "that place has got part gas in it, for the ventilation don't touch here; but that don't mean as the whole mine's dangerous." "But the whole mine _is_ dangerous," said Philip hastily. "It's made dangerous by the recklessness of the men. Stop, man, what are you going to do?" He was too late, for, unperceived by him, the overman had unlocked the lamp, and held it up open above their heads, when there was a blinding flash, and an echoing report, and then a rumbling, distant, rushing noise. "What do you think o' that, lad?" said the overman coolly, relocking his lamp.