E-text prepared by David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team THE UNDERWORLD The Story of Robert Sinclair, Miner by JAMES C. WELSH New York Frederick A. Stokes Company Publishers 1920 PREFACE I have tried to write of the life I know, the life I have lived, and of the lives of the people whom, above all others, I love, and of whom I am so proud. My people have been miners for generations, and I myself became a miner at the age of twelve. I have worked since then in the mine at every phase of coal getting until about five years ago, when my fellow workers made me their checkweigher. I say this that those who read my book may know that the things of which I write are the things of which I have firsthand knowledge. JAMES C. WELSH. DOUGLAS WATER, LANARK. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE THONG OF POVERTY II. A TURN OF THE SCREW III. THE BLOCK IV. A YOUNG REBEL V. BLACK JOCK'S THREAT VI. THE COMING OF A PROPHET VII. ON THE PIT-HEAD VIII. THE MANTLE OF MANHOOD IX. THE ACCIDENT X. HEROES OF THE UNDERWORLD XI. THE STRIKE XII. THE RIVALS XIII. THE RED HOSE RACE XIV. THE AWAKENING XV. PETER MAKES A DECISION XVI. A STIR IN LOWWOOD XVII. MYSIE RUNS AWAY XVIII. MAG ROBERTSON'S FRENZY XIX. BLACK JOCK'S END XX. THE CONFERENCE XXI. THE MEETING WITH MYSIE XXII. MYSIE'S RETURN XXIII. HOME XXIV. A CALL FOR HELP XXV. A FIGHT WITH DEATH CHAPTER I THE THONG OF POVERTY "Is it not about time you came to your bed, lassie?" "Ay, I'll no' be very long now, Geordie. If I had this heel turned, I'll soon finish the sock, and that will be a pair the day. Is the pain in your back worse the nicht, that you are so restless?" and the clicking of the needles ceased as the woman asked the question. "Oh, I'm no' so bad at all," came the answer. "My back's maybe a wee bit sore; but a body gets tired lying always in the yin position. Forby, the day aye seems long when you are out, and I dinna like to think of you out working all day, and then sitting down to knit at nicht. It must be very tiring for you, Nellie." "Oh, I'm no' that tired," she replied with a show of cheerfulness, as she turned another wire in the sock, and set the balls of wool dancing on the floor with the speed at which she worked. "I've had a real good day to-day, and I'm feeling that I could just sit for a lang while the nicht, if only the paraffin oil wadna' go down so quick. But the longer I sit, it burns the more, and it's getting gey dear to buy now-a-days." "Ay," said the weary voice of the man. "If it's no' clegs it's midges. Folk have always something to contend against. But don't be long till you stop. It's almost twelve o'clock, and you ought to be in your bed."