One man stood apart from the others. His face was ugly and morose of expression. He was a bewhiskered man. His beard had once been red, but was faded and tobacco stained. His arms were so long that when he stood with his shoulders sagged a little, as they were habitually, his great, ham-like hands hung to his knees. His face and arms were tanned to the colour of old leather, the skin looking quite as tough. Altogether, Tony Traddles was not a pleasant person to look at. Now he was particularly offensive in appearance. He was alone while the crowd of miners and their wives were congratulating each other upon the escape of the entombed men from the mine. Tony Traddles looked as though he would not have cared if Mr. Havens and the other five men had stayed down in the shaft forever. CHAPTER VIII—CHET SHOOTS A HAWK Mr. Fordham had run forward to meet his partner and shake him by the hand. “I’m mighty glad to see you, Jim!” he said, assisting Chet’s father to the ground. “The boys say you’ve hurt your foot. Is it bad?” “Bad enough,” answered Mr. Havens, with much disgust, and standing like a stork on one leg until they brought him a stool to sit upon. “It’s going to keep me from going over to Grub Stake, Fordham, as I had planned.” “Well, well! I’m glad you’re out of that hole. That’s enough to be joyful over. We’ll worry about the other thing later. What about that scamp yonder?” and Mr. Fordham swung about to point at the ugly, gorilla-like man who stood at one side, sucking on the stem of an old pipe. “Tony Traddles? Let him go—and let him go quick, Fordham,” replied Mr. Havens earnestly, with a glance around at the rough men. “I was tempted to have him jailed. A constable was up here,” said Mr. Fordham. “No use. We couldn’t prove anything more than malicious mischief—and we’d have hard work to do that, I think. But it’s only by the mercy of Heaven that he hasn’t the lives of six men upon his conscience.” “Ha!” snapped Dig’s father. “That fellow has no conscience.” Then he raised his voice: “Come here, you Tony!” The ugly-looking man shuffled over to his employers. He looked sheepish as well as ugly, and still pulled furiously at his old pipe. “Well, Tony, you played us a bad trick that time,” said Mr. Havens quietly. “You knew when I asked you if the timbering was secure that you had not wedged your cross-beams. Your neglect came near costing six lives. We cannot have you work on the Silent Sue any longer. Mr. Fordham will give you your time and money, and you can go.” “I dunno what I done,” growled Tony, in a much injured tone. “I couldn’t help the shaft caving in.” “You know it wouldn’t have caved if you had done your work properly,” said Mr. Fordham sharply. “I could have forgiven you for that,” Mr. Havens hastened to say. “But your falsehood led us to suppose that it was safe to fire the shot. That is your crime, Tony—the misstatement of fact.”