for I’m mair to blame than you are.  But I’ll be even wi’ that black beast, an’ put an end to his rotten career, someway or another.  Sae aff you gang to your bed, an’ gie me a quate hoor tae mysel’,” and there was such a quiet authoritative ring in his voice that Mag dared not disobey it, and she went quietly off to bed while he sat by the fireside smoking and thinking, and feeling that his home that night must surely be the most unhappy place on God’s earth.

About midnight he knocked the ashes from his pipe, and placing it on the mantelpiece, went to bed and soon fell asleep, but Mag, an insane decision taking shape in her brain, lay and brooded and tossed till well on in the morning, when she rose, kindled the fire, “redd up” the house, prepared the breakfast and awoke her husband to partake of the meal she had prepared.

Never a word was spoken between them, and at last Sanny, after washing and dressing, walked out without a word, but fully determined in his heart to get equal with Walker before the day was over.

He went straight to Rundell House, and ringing the bell asked to see the mine owner.

He was shown into a room and Mr. Rundell came to him almost before he had been comfortably seated.

“Well, Sanny,” he began genially.  “What brings you here this morning?”

“A business that I’d rather no’ been comin’ on,” replied Sanny uneasily shifting on his chair.

“Oh, nothing serious, I hope, is it?”

“Ay, it’s serious enough,” returned Sanny.  “Mair serious than you think, Mr. Rundell; an’ I dinna ken what you’ll think o’ me after I hae telt you.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” said the mine owner, becoming serious, and speaking with slow deliberation.  “Just let me hear what it is all about, and we’ll see how matters stand after you have told me,” and he sat down in a chair opposite Robertson as he spoke.

“I hae lost my contracts, sir,” began Sanny, not knowing how else to open up the subject.  “But I’m gaun to tell you the hale story just in my ain way, so I want you to sit quate and no’ interrupt me; for I hinna jist the knack of puttin’ things maybe as they should be put.  But I’ll tell you the hale story an’ then leave you to do as you like, an’ think what you like.”

“Very well, Sanny.  Just go on.  I did not know you had lost them.  But just let me hear about the trouble in your own way.”

“For gey near twenty year,” began Sanny, “I’ve had maist feck o’ the contracts in your pits back and forrit—­me an’ Tam Fleming.  Walker an’ us were aye gey thick, an’ though it maybe was putten doon to you that oor offer to work ony special job was the cheapest, I may tell you that I never put in an offer in my life for yin o’ them.  Walker an’—­an’” here Sanny stammered a little, “Walker an’ oor Mag were gey thick, an’ I’m ashamed o’ this part o’ the story; for I should hae been man enough to protect her frae him.  But the money was the thing that did it, Mr. Rundell, an’ I’m no’ gaun to mak’ excuses noo aboot it.  But every bargain I had, I had to share the pay, efter the men was payed, penny aboot, wi’ Walker.  That was ay the bargain.  He gaed us the job at his ain feegure, an’ we shared the profits wi’ him.