"I know you don't like him, but he is a first
rate fellow if there ever was one. It is unlucky for him being so
nervous at the guns; but that is no fault of his, after all, and
I am sure in other things he is as cool as possible. Yesterday I
was standing close to him, shoving the earth back to the men as he
got it down. Suddenly he shouted, 'Run, Wilson, the roof is coming
down!' I could not help bolting a few yards, for the earth came
pattering down as he spoke; then I looked round and saw him standing
there, by the light of the lamp, like those figures you see holding
up pillars; I forget what they call them--catydigs, or something
of that sort."
"Caryatides," Isobel put in.
"Yes, that is the name. Some timber had given way above him, and
he was holding it up with his arms. I should say that there must
have been half a ton of it, and he said, as quietly as possible,
'Get two of those short poles, Wilson, and put up one on each side
of me. I can hold it a bit, but don't be longer than you can help
about it.' I managed to shove up the timber, so that he could
slip out before it came down. It would have crushed us both to a
certainty if he had not held it up."
"Why do you say you know I don't like Mr. Bathurst?"
"I don't exactly know, Miss Hannay, but I have noticed you are the
only lady who does not chat with him. I don't think I have seen
you speak to him since we have come in here. I am sorry, because
I like him very much, and I don't care for Forster at all.
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