Part 42 (2/2)

”I don't, if they've only gone out,” said Joe, with a s.h.i.+ver. ”This isn't like that. This place seems to me now quite awful.”

”Pooh! I say, I believe you'd go down and look for them if you might.”

”Yes,” said Joe, quickly; ”I shouldn't like to, but I would.”

”I wonder what it's like down below--all long, narrow pa.s.sages roughly-cut through the rock,” said Gwyn; ”they wouldn't cut so carefully as they do now.”

”No, as they say, the old people would only cut where the lode of ore ran, of course. But I hope there's nothing wrong.”

”Of course you do; so do I. What's the good of fidgeting.”

Joe did not say what was the good of fidgeting, but he fidgeted all the same; and Gwyn noted, as the time went on, that his companion looked quite hollow-cheeked, while at the same time he felt a peculiar sinking sensation that was very much like dread; and at last, as over two hours and a-half had pa.s.sed, he began to feel that something ought to be done.

Joe not only felt, but said so, and frowned angrily as he spoke.

”It's too bad,” he said; ”those two sit there as coolly and contentedly as if nothing could be the matter. I say, Dina.s.s,” he cried aloud, ”do you think there is anything wrong?”

”No, sir,” said the man, coolly, ”I don't. They're only having a good long prowl. You'll hear 'em shout to be taken up directly.”

But the boys did not feel satisfied, and hung about the opening, growing more and more uneasy, though Gwyn kept the best face on the matter.

”Don't you fidget,” he said, ”father was only joking, of course, about time; but he knew they'd be down a long while, and he meant to be.

They're all right.”

”They're not all right,” said Joe, quickly. ”They can't be, or we should have heard from them. They've either fallen down some hole, or the roof has come down and crushed them, or they've lost their way in some wild out-of-the-way part of the mine. Let's call for volunteers, and go down and search for them.”

”Hus.h.!.+ Be quiet! Don't be hysterical,” whispered Gwyn; ”there's no need to call for volunteers. I feel sure I know what it means; this old mine must be very big, perhaps winds about for miles in all directions; and they're only having a good long hunt now they are down. They'd laugh at us if we were to send volunteers.”

”Send volunteers down!” said Joe.

”Well, lead them then. Wait a bit and see.”

”They've been overcome by choke-damp.”

”Nonsense! that's only in coal pits. Don't let these two see what a fright we're in.”

”Don't see that you're in any fright,” said Joe, bitterly. ”You take it coolly enough.”

”Outside,” said Gwyn; ”perhaps I feel as much as you do, only I don't show it. Joe, I wouldn't have my mother know about this for all the world--it would frighten her to death; and if we get talking about volunteers going down, someone is sure to go and tell her that we're in trouble, and she'll come on.”

”But we must do something; they may be dying for want of help.”

”Don't,” whispered Gwyn, angrily; ”you're as bad as a girl; try and think about how they are situated. Perhaps there are miles of pa.s.sages below there, and they would be hours wandering about. Of course they go slowly.”

”Couldn't be miles of pa.s.sages,” said Joe, piteously.

”Think the mine's very big, Dina.s.s?” said Gwyn, quietly.

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