ven the unpractised eye of the miner
could see. He was tossing in a high fever, calling constantly for the
water which in her ignorance his mother would not give him, nor did he
appear to recognize any of those who stood near.

"I fear me his time's come," said one of the neighbor women, several of
whom, attracted by curiosity, came and went in and out of the house.

Although the remark was not intended for his ears, Monk Tooley heard it,
and apparently it brought him to a sudden determination. Without a word
he left the house and walked directly to that of the Sterlings. Entering
the open door-way without the ceremony of knocking, which was little
practised in that colliery village, he found the family gathered in
their tiny sitting-room, Derrick poring intently over a plan of the old
workings of the mine, Helen reading, and their mother sewing.

Bowing awkwardly to Mrs. Sterling, he said, "Derrick tells me, missus,
dat you're willin' to take my poor lad in and nuss him a bit. His own
mither has no knowledge of de trade, an' he's just dyin' over yon. If
yer mean it, and will do fer him, yer'll never want for a man to lift a
hand fer you and yours as long as Monk Tooley is widin call."

"I do mean it, Mr. Tooley, and if you can only get him here, I'll gladly
do what I can for him," said Mrs. Sterling.

"I'll bring him, mum, I'll go fer him now;" and Monk Tooley, with
another awkward pull at the brim of his hat, left the house.

In five minutes he was back, accompanied by another miner, and between
them they bore a mattress on which lay the sick boy.

He was undressed, bathed, and placed in Derrick's cool, clean bed.
Within an hour cooling drinks and outward applications had so reduced
the fever and quieted him that he had fallen into a deep sleep.

Within the same time all the village knew, and wondered over the
knowledge, that Monk Tooley's sick lad was being cared for in the house
of the widow Sterling.

CHAPTER IX

SOCRATES, THE WISE MINE RAT

When Derrick and Paul found themselves descending the slope, together
with a carful of miners, the next morning, it seemed to them a long time
since they had traversed its black depths. So accustomed do the toilers
of the colliery become to exciting incidents that elsewhere would
furnish subject for weeks of thought and conversation, that often a
single day suffices to divert their attention to something new. So it
was with our two boys, in whose minds their