The Contract at Old Warden Shaft

“And now”, said Jolly, as he placed the empty pint pot on the bar, “the question is, who are we to take in with us?” “Well, there’s The Fiddler and Bill for two”, replied Boney, ” anyone you’d like to take in yourself?” “Yes! The Groper, he’s a right good sort, and a grafter, and agreeable to boot.”

”Righto !” said Boney, “Now all we want is a mate for The Groper, and away she goes!

This last man wanted some thinking over, though, so, to force inspiration, Jolly shouted two more pints. If I was not, however, until Boney had replenished the pots, that ‘Edwards’ was decided upon. “The very man for The Groper,” declared Boney, “both agreeable and both toilers.” The party having thus been satisfactorily arranged, the two friends had a pint of beer each and set off to interview the others.

“Come in with you, is it ?” It was The Groper who spoke. “Who’ll be my mate ?” “You can take Edwards,” replied Boney, ” he ought to suit you down to the ground.” “It’s a wager,” The Groper exclaimed. ” I was stone broke, and ye took me in. Come over and have a pint of beer.” They returned to the pub, where each proclaimed his good fellowship by shouting for a pint of beer. The Groper would have gone around again, but Boney was a cautious old gentleman, “Oh, no ! said he. “No drinking till the business is fixed up.”

Half an hour afterwards, the Fiddler and Bill having been located, the completed party lined up at the bar, and, between drinks, made all the arrangements about shifts, tools, fracture, etc. When each man had shouted his round, an agreement was signed. Then old Boney gave a sigh of relief that caused the barmaid to jump up from her novel with a premonition of coming business. “Now that everything is over and done with,” said he, “we’ll have some beers”.

The Groper and Edwards started on the afternoon shift and got along splendidly till after 10 o’clock. It was then that the trouble began. They struck a snag in the corner hole, and soon all the short steel was bumped out. The Groper was turning every ten or fifteen minutes, the kibble came down to take up what water was making in the shaft Edwards was striking, and he was also attending to the kibble. “Next time the kibble comes down,”  The Groper told Edwards, “send up a note for some short drills.”

The kibble came and went but no drills!

“Did you send a note for those drills?” asked the Groper.”  “No,” replied Edwards. “Well, don’t forget next time, then.” By now, they were using two-foot steel. Once more, the kibble came and went. “I wish those short drills would come,” said the Groper “, You sent for them???” “No”, again replied Edwards.

“Dammitall,” he replied, “Edwards, we MUST send a note on the next trip.”

By this time, however, the three-foot steel was at work, with Edwards standing on a lump of diorite. Again, the kibble came and went. The Groper said nothing but looked lots as Edwards fixed up a stage and got to work on the four, and, at last, the five-foot steel. The finishing of the hole brought knockoff time. Edwards went home, but The Groper, wild as a bandicoot, headed for Boney’s camp and roused the old fellow up. “Here!” he cried, “you get me another mate for tomorrow afternoon,”

“What the devil’s wrong?” asked Boney.

“Never mind, I’ll work no more with Edwards, or I’ll pull out. I’ll work no more with him. Either I get another mate, or I pull out,” and off the enraged Groper pelted. So it was that the Fiddler and Bill were split, the latter falling to the Groper, while Edwards and the Fiddler went shift mates. All went well after this, and in due time the contract was ended.

The night of settling up day found the party once more at ‘The Miners Arms’. All were in great form, having got themselves outside of a treble shout from each. Old Boney was in his element. Calling for another round, he got on his feet, and clearing his throat, addressed his mates: “Well, boys, our job’s over, and she ain’t treated us too bad, thirty-one bob and nine pence a shift clear of all exes it pans out. Now, before we split up, there’s something I’d like to ask our friend, The Groper, and no offence meant.  In the first place, I’ll say he’s a damned decent fellow, and in the second, so’s Edwards, but there’s been a coolness in that direction, as you’ve all seen. I’m certain there’s some mistake, and we’re going to fix it up before we part. So now, I’ll ask ‘The Groper’ right out, what went crook the first shift?” “part friends every time hiccupped The Groper ‘but, why the devil couldn’t he send up for drills when I told him – blast him, that’s all.” “Part friends, certainly, by all means,” cried Edwards,

“and if he must  know then, it was because I can’t “write!”

When the laughing ceased, and the beer came again, old Boney fixed his twinkling blue eyes on The Groper. “Dear man,” he said, “You regimental cuddy! Was it worth rowing about – and, anyhow, why in the name of all that’s good didn’t you send  for them yourself ?” The Groper rose, steadied the table carefully for a second, and in a husky voice replied, ‘because “I COULDN’T WRITE EITHER” and then rolled over on the floor.

By D.B.G.