So the work went on hour after hour, and now their efforts were
beginning to tell. No more came the rumbling, treacherous falls; but
perceptibly, irresistibly was the passage gradually cleared, and the way
opened up, until it seemed as if these men were literally eating their
way into that rock-filled passage.
"Can ye tell me where Black Jock is a' this time?" enquired Andrew, as
Peter and Matthew and he sat back the road, resting while the others
worked. "Rundell has been here twa or three times, for hours at a time,
but I hae never seen Walker yet."
"I hae never seen him either, an' I was hearin' that he was badly,"
returned Peter, and his big eye seemed to turn as if it were looking for
and expecting some one to slip up behind him.
"Ay," broke in Matthew, "badly! I wadna say, but it micht be that he's
badly; but maybe he's not."
"Do ye ken, boys," said Andrew quietly, taking his pipe out of his
mouth, and speaking with slow deliberation, "I'm beginnin' to think
Black Jock is guilty o' Geordie's death. Geordie, as we a' ken, had ay
something against Walker. There was something he kent aboot the black
brute that lately kept him gey quiet; for, if ye noticed, whenever
Geordie went to him about anybody's complaint, the men aye won.
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