Part 60 (1/2)

”You're all right, aren't you, Ydoll?” said Joe.

”Never felt better in my life, only I don't feel as if I could sit still here. Let's go to the mine.”

”To go down? No, thank you--not to-day.”

”Who wants to go down. I mean to have a talk to Sam and the men. I want to hear more about it. Oh, I say, though, it's too bad to have left old Grip chained up. Let's go and fetch him and, after we've been to the mine, give him a good run over the down and along the cliff.”

”Yes,” said Joe, quietly; and Gwyn led the way back toward the house by the cove.

”That dog ought to have a golden collar,” said Gwyn. ”No; I tell you what--he shall have one made of the first tin that is smelted.”

”Too soft; it would bend,” said Joe.

”Very well, then, we'll have some copper put with it to make it hard, and turn it to bronze.”

”What's the good? Dogs don't want ornaments. He'd be a deal happier with his old leather strap.”

”I don't care; he shall have one of bronze.”

He told Grip this when he reached the yard, and the dog rushed toward them, standing on his hind-legs and straining against his collar at the full extent of his chain till he was unfastened, when he went half mad with excitement till they were out of the grounds and on their way toward the mine. Then as he trotted on before them straight for the buildings they heard the panting of the engine, and came in sight of the smoke.

For the pump was steadily at work again, clearing out the water which had begun to gather, consequent upon the enforced inaction.

Sam Hardock caught sight of them before they reached the mine, and came to meet them, smiling largely.

”How are you, gentlemen?--how are you?” he cried. ”Not much the worse, then, from your trip underground?”

”Oh, no, Sam, we're right enough,” said Gwyn; ”but I say, I can't understand about our only being in the mine two days. It seemed to me like a week.”

”Fortnight,” said Joe, correcting him.

”Well, fortnight, then.”

”Ay, it would,” said Hardock, looking serious now. ”I mind being shut up in one of the Truro mines by a fall; and we were only there about thirty hours, but it seemed to me just like thirty days.”

”But hasn't there been a mistake? We must have been there more than forty-eight hours.”

”No, my lad; that was the time, and quite long enough, too; but I'm afraid it would have been twice as long if it hadn't been for this dog.

It was a fine idea to send him down to try and find you.”

”A splendid idea! Who's was it?”

”Oh, never mind about that,” said Hardock, stooping down to pat the dog in the most friendly way. ”Someone said after we'd got back along of your father, Mr Gwyn, that the dog was more likely to find you than anyone; but just then the Colonel ordered a fresh search, and a party went down, and then another, and another, for there was no stopping; they hunted for you well. But at last him who proposed the dog said he was sure that was the way to go to work; and then at last the Colonel says, 'Well, Hardock,' he says, 'I believe you're right. Try the dog!'”

”Then it was you who proposed it,” said Gwyn, catching the miner's arm.

”Me? Was it? Well, perhaps it was,” said Hardock; ”but lor' a mussy, I was all in such a flurry over the business I don't half recollect. Sort o' idee it was Harry Vores. Maybe it was.”

”No, it wasn't,” said Gwyn; ”I'm sure it was you, Sam. Now, wasn't it?”