"Ay, lad," said the old miner, the pale flame of his cap-lamp lighting up his wrinkled face and throwing a distorted shadow on the wall of coal behind, "there's goin' to be a plenty of us killed soon." "Likely enough, if they're all as careless as you," Clem retorted. "Carelessness ain't got nothin' to do with it," the old man replied. "The 'knockers' has got to be satisfied There ain't been an accident here for months. It'll come soon The spirits o' the mine is gettin' hungry for blood."