k you may take it for granted that by then
he was a goner.

He used to smoke his pipe and watch the little woman and Babe go
"high-grading" along the tunnel wall. That was what she called it and
pretended that she expected to find very rich ore concealed somewhere. It
struck him one day, quite suddenly, that the Little Woman (I may as well
begin to use capitals, because Casey always called her that in his mind,
and the capitals were growing bigger every day) the Little Woman never
seemed to notice his smoking, or to realize that it is a filthy habit and
immoral and degrading, as that other woman had done.

He began to notice other things, too; that the Little Woman helped him a
lot, on afternoons when help was most likely to be appreciated. She
sometimes "put down a hole" all by herself, skinning a knuckle now and
then with the lightest "single-jack" and saying _"darn!"_ quite as a
matter of course.

And once, when the rock was particularly hard, she happened along and
volunteered to turn the drill while Casey used the "double-jack", which I
suppose you know is the big hammer that requires two hands to pound the
drill while another turns it slightly after each blow, so that the bitted
end will chew its way into hard rock.

You aren't all of you miners, so I will explain further that to drill into
rock with a double-jack and steel drill is not sport for greenhorns
exactly. The drill-turner needs a lot of faith and a little nerve, because
one blow of the double-jack may break a hand clasped just below the head
of the drill. And the man with the double-jack needs a steady nerve, too,
and some experience in swinging the big hammer true to the head of the
drill,--unless he enjoys cracking another man's bones.

Casey Ryan prides himself upon being able to swing a double-jack as well
as any man in the country. It is his boast that he never yet broke the
skin on the hand of his drill-turner. So I shall have to let you take it
for granted that the Little Woman's presence and help was more unnerving
than a wildcat on Casey's back. For, while the first, second and third
blows fell true on the drill, the fourth went wild. Casey owns that he was
in a cold sweat for fear he might hit her. So he did. She was squatted on
her heels, steadying one elbow on her knee. The double-jack struck her
hand, glanced and landed another blow on her knee; one of those terribly
painful blows that take your breath and make you see stars without
cr