ty black-hearted
brute murdered Geordie Sinclair. He telt me himsel' one nicht at the
time when we were drinkin' together. He kent a' aboot Geordie workin' on
the boss ground an' sent him to his death to get rid of him because in a
soft moment I had telt Geordie hoo the contracts were set. He was feart
Geordie wad tell you. He's a black-hearted murderer, an' noo he has
added Mag's death to his list o' damnation. Tak' that! an' that! you
dirty villain! I'll save the hangman the bother o' feenishin' you!" and
Sanny was upon Walker tearing at him like a cat, and clawing his face
with his nails, punching, biting and kicking him as hard as he could
drive his hands and feet.

The attack was so sudden that Walker went down, and Sanny was on top of
him before anyone could intervene.

"I'll tear the thrapple oot o' you, you dirty swine!" he squealed, as he
tugged at Black Jock's throat.

Mr. Rundell and a couple of laborers soon pulled Sanny up, though he
struggled to maintain his hold upon the throat of his adversary.

"Let me at him," he yelled, striving to get free. "Let me at him, an'
I'll save the hangman a guid lot o' bother stretchin' his dirty neck!
Oh, you swine! You dirty murderin' beast!" he shrieked, as he tried to
break away from the restraining hands which held him.

But Sanny was soon overpowered, and Walker, bounding to his feet, was
off up the railway towards his home, terror filling his heart, and his
mind reeling with fear.

Mr. Rundell quickly organized a band of men to descend the shaft and
recover Mag's body, and soon the whole village was in possession of the
news, and the excitement was intense.

They gathered her up, a mass of dirty, pulpy flesh, scraping the remains
together and shoveling them into a rude improvised box, the head and
eyes being the only part of the body that resembled anything like a
human being.

"Hell to my sowl, but this is the warst job that ever I got," said
Archie Braidhurst, as he scraped a mass of blood and bones, mud and
rags, together. "It's a hell o' a daith to dee."

"Ay, puir lassie," replied Adam Lindsay. "She's made a splash at the
hinner end. Mag ay cried that it was best to mak' a splash aboot the
things you did; but, by sirs, she has made yin this time. What an awfu'
mess!"

"Splash!" echoed Archie with a grim laugh. "She's gane a' into jaups.
She maun hae thocht she was a juck-pool. I would like to dee like a
Christian when I dee, and no' shuffle oot like