than enough to ride all the way; and Crass told him to go at
once--there was no need to wait till half past; but before he went
Philpot got a small glass bottle out of his tool bag and filled it with
oil and turps--two of turps and one of oil--which he gave to Bert to
rub into his leg before going to bed: The turps--he explained--was to
cure the pain and the oil was to prevent it from hurting the skin. He
was to get his mother to rub it in for him if he were too tired to do
it himself. Bert promised to observe these directions, and, drying his
tears, took his dinner basket and limped off to catch the tram.

It was a few days after this that Hunter met with an accident. He was
tearing off on his bicycle to one of the jobs about five minutes to
twelve to see if he could catch anyone leaving off for dinner before
before the proper time, and while going down a rather steep hill the
front brake broke--the rubbers of the rear one were worn out and failed
to act--so Misery to save himself from being smashed against the
railings of the houses at the bottom of the hill, threw himself off the
machine, with the result that his head and face and hands were terribly
cut and bruised. He was so badly knocked about that he had to remain
at home for nearly three weeks, much to the delight of the men and the
annoyance--one might even say the indignation--of Mr Rushton, who did
not know enough about the work to make out estimates without
assistance. There were several large jobs to be tendered for at the
same time, so Rushton sent the specifications round to Hunter's house
for him to figure out the prices, and nearly all the time that Misery
was at home he was sitting up in bed, swathed in bandages, trying to
calculate the probable cost of these jobs. Rushton did not come to see
him, but he sent Bert nearly every day, either with some
specifications, or some accounts, or something of that sort, or with a
note inquiring when Hunter thought he would be able to return to work.

All sorts of rumours became prevalent amongst the men concerning
Hunter's condition. He had 'broken his spiral column', he had
'conjunction of the brain', or he had injured his 'innards' and would
probably never be able to 'do no more slave-drivin''. Crass--who had
helped Mr Rushton to 'price up' several small jobs--began to think it
might not be altogether a bad thing for himself if something were to
happen to Hunter, and he began to put on side and to assum