on with just
at present. I mean it, my lad. If you've anything important to proclaim,
leave it to me to give you the tip when to splutter at it. I'm solemn."

When Don Alfredo said he was "solemn," it often meant that he was on the
edge of a most unbrotherly rage. And so Jim concentrated upon his
dinner. He made wry faces at Mrs. Jumbo and her strokings, and even
found fault with the soup when she asked him sweetly if it were not
excellent. All this to relieve his feelings.

The two engineers left Jim to finish his dinner by himself. Jim's
renewed effort of "I say, Alf!" was quenched by the upraised hands of
both engineers.

Outside they were met by Don Alonso, the foreman, a very smart and
go-ahead fellow indeed, considering that he was a Spaniard.

"They'll strike, senores!" said Don Alonso, with a shrug. "It can't be
helped, I'm afraid. It's all Domecq's doing, the scoundrel! Why didn't
you dismiss him, Don Alfredo, after that affair of Moreno's death?
There's not a doubt he killed Moreno, and he hasn't a spark of gratitude
or goodness in his nature."

"He's a capable hand," said Alfred Cayley.

"Too much so, by half," said Don Ferdinando. "If he were off the mine,
Elgos, we should run smoothly, eh?"

"I'll answer for that, senor," replied the foreman. "As it is, he plays
his cards against mine. His influence is extraordinary. There'll not be
a man here to-morrow; Saint Gavino will have all their time and money."

"You don't expect any active mischief, I hope?" suggested Don
Ferdinando.

The foreman thought not. He had heard no word of any.

"Very well, then. I'll settle Domecq straight off," said Don Ferdinando.

He returned to the house and pocketed his revolver. They had to be
prepared for all manner of emergencies in these wilds of Asturias,
especially on the eves and morrows of Saints' days. But it didn't at all
follow that because Don Ferdinando pocketed his shooter he was likely to
be called upon to use it.

The three were separating after this when a lad in a blue cotton jacket
rose lazily from behind a heap of calamine just to the rear of them, and
swung off towards the machinery on the edge of the precipice.

"Pedro!" called the foreman, and, returning, the lad was asked if he had
been listening.

He vowed that such a thought had not entered his head. He had been
asleep; that was all.

"Very good!" said the foreman. "You may go, and it's fifty cents off
your wage list that your sleep out