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.