He made a great tale of it before the day was done.  As we waited at the foot of the shaft to be run up in the bucket he was still talking.  He was boasting again, as I’d known he would.  And that was the chance I’d been waiting for a’ the time.

“Man, Jock,” I said, “ye should ha’ had that pistol wi’ ye—­the one with which ye killed all the outlaws on the American veldt.  Then ye could ha’ shot him.”

“That shows how much you know, young Harry Lauder!” he said, scornfully.  “Would a pistol bullet hurt a ghost?  Talk of what ye ha’ some knowledge of——­”

“Aye,” I said.  “That’s good advice, Jock.  I suppose I’m not knowing so much as you do about ghosts.  But tell me, man—­would a ghost be making a noise like this?”

And I made the self-same noise I’d made before, when I was playing the ghost for Jock’s benefit.  He turned purple; he was clever enough to see the joke I’d played on him at once.  And the other miners—­they were all in the secret began to roar with laughter.  They weren’t sorry to see puir Jock shown up for the liar and boaster he was.  But I was a little sorry, when I saw how hard he took it, and how angry he was.

He aimed a blow at me that would have made me the sorry one if it had landed fair, but I put up my jukes and warded it off, and he was ashamed, after than, wi’ the others laughing at him so, to try again to punish me.  He was very sensitive, and he never came back to the Eddlewood Colliery; the very next day he found a job in another pit.  He was a good miner, was Jock, so that was no matter to him.  But I’ve often wondered if I really taught him a lesson, or if he always kept on telling his twisters in his new place!

I stayed on, though, after Jock had gone, and after a time I drove a pony instead of tending a gate.  That was better work, and meant a few shillings a week more in wages, too, which counted heavily just then.

I handled a number of bonnie wee Shetland ponies in the three years I drove the hutches to and from the pitshaft.  One likable little fellow was a real pet.  He followed me all about.  It was great to see him play one trick I taught him.  He would trot to the little cabin and forage among all the pockets till he found one where a man had left a bit of bread and cheese at piece time.  He’d eat that, and then he would go after a flask of cold tea.  He’d fasten it between his forefeet and pull the cork with his teeth—­and then he’d tip the flask up between his teeth and drink his tea like a Christian.  Aye, Captain was a droll, clever yin.  And once, when I beat him for stopping short before a drift, he was saving my life.  There was a crash just after I hit him, and the whole drift caved in.  Captain knew it before I did.  If he had gone on, as I wanted him to do, we would both ha’ been killed.

CHAPTER IV