After lunch we made another & more extended tour of the tipples, where it was explained (though nothing was working) how coal is washed & the slate removed by gravitation, and how coal is sorted to all the various sizes. One of the most picturesque things to me was some piles of slack that had taken fire from spontaneous combustion & were slowly burning themselves out. They did not seem to want too much attention paid to it.
An incident occurred on this trip that spoiled the afternoon for me. Some boys ahead of us on the road were playing football. Francis tooted for them but one boy had to give a final kick, the ball bouncing down the center of the road. Francis slowed down, but the car found the ball & crushed it. I felt he should stop & express regret, & perhaps even replace it, but he drove on without stopping. It was not pleasant.
     About three o’clock we returned to the Bungalow and I was left to my own devices until Monday AM. I now had time to examine my surroundings.
     The Bungalow was situated part way up the steep mountain side & reached by a narrow winding road. There was little or no yard, as it was built on a ledge. When inside, & looking out the windows, I seemed to be right in the trees - they were still in all their October glory. In fact it was wooded all around which gave it a great sense of seclusion.
     I was impatient at the delay, but tried to reconcile myself. A short walk before supper determined me to essay a mountain climb the next day. Before supper I dawdled in the big living room