Harrison nodded, not feeling entirely at ease despite the attempts at doing so. He was not an experienced miner, if one were to ask, but he certainly knew his way around a mine. He knew the risks, he knew the cost, he knew what sort of care one ought to take, and he knew how arduous the work within a mine was for the men within it.

They had not had a rockfall in over twenty years in either mine, but the chance of one was always present.

He needed to avoid any possibility of such a misfortune for the safety of all concerned and to keep the reputation of his mines secure.

If his workers would not respect the mine and her weaknesses, they ought not to be working in her.

“How long has Breton been here?” Harrison asked, returning his attention to the rock before him, carefully chipping away at the line of tin.

“Since afore yer father died,” Martin grunted. “And he ain’t gained a lick o’ sense in the interim.”

Harrison shook his head, tapping his pick firmly against the wall. “Drake ought to get rid of him.”

“He’s one o’ the bes’ miners ‘ere, milord,” Martin said with some reluctance. “Insofar as amoun’ goes. Brings up more’n most, and numbers canno’ be argued.”

Unfortunately, that was true, but it was certainly an inconvenient truth.

“Then he should be in a tunnel where less care is needed,” Harrison suggested. “I’ll ask Drake to see to it shortly.”

“If ee like, milord,” Martin replied as he toiled on his own section. “Breton don’ like being told where ‘e can and canno’ be.”

Harrison felt himself growing particularly superior, which he usually avoided in his life. “If the man cannot take orders and respect authority in such a dangerous setting, then he certainly must be removed. This is not the place for that.”

“For wha’, milord?” Breton hollered as though it was his first day in a mine rather than one of thousands. “A mine is the perfect place for errything!”

As if to prove it, Breton swung his pickaxe at an outcropping near him, which seemed to shake the walls around them all.

“Martin—”

“Wait,” the older man hissed.

Every man froze as dust and rock scattered above them, followed by larger pieces of rock.

“Go!” Martin called, pushing Harrison toward the entrance. “Go!”

Harrison bolted with the rest, but the rocks from the ceiling continued to trickle down, not in a full shower but ominously and without pattern.

Something sharp hit Harrison along his cheek while another struck a blow on his shoulder, causing him to stumble just a little, though his momentum was not very affected. He followed the other men out, coming to the surface with a gasp, though he had not been holding his breath in any way. It had to be relief that coursed through him, though the burning in his throat spoke more of fear than relief.