Part 67 (1/2)
The boys followed the Colonel out of the vinery, the door was shut, and the ascending lane leading to the Major's house was soon reached, and then the rugged down.
”Precious dark,” said Gwyn; but there was no answer. ”Sleep, Jolly?”
said Gwyn, after a few moments.
”Eh? No; I was thinking. I say, though, how precious dark it is;” for they could not see a dozen yards.
”Yes, but what were you thinking about?”
”The dog.”
”Oh, yes, of course, so was I; but what about him?” said Gwyn, sharply.
”How he got hurt?”
”Chopped in the man-engine. You heard.”
”Yes, but I don't believe it.”
”Here's a miserable unbeliever,” said Gwyn, mockingly. ”How did he get hurt, then?”
”Someone did it.”
”Oh, nonsense! It isn't likely. The machine did it, same as it would you or me if we weren't careful.”
”But that wasn't how poor old Grip was hurt.”
”How then?”
”I feel sure he was hurt with an iron bar.”
”Why, who would hurt him in that brutal way?”
”Someone who hated him.”
”Gammon!”
”Very well--gammon, then. But when did we see him last?”
”Last? Last? Oh, I know; when we went to the smelting-house to find Tom Dina.s.s.”
”Well, we left him behind there. The door must have swung-to and shut him in.”
”Then you think Tom Dina.s.s did it.”
”Yes, I do.”
”Then I say it's all prejudice. Tom's turning out a thoroughly good fellow. See how willing he was over the fis.h.i.+ng, and how he helped us this evening. You're always picking holes in Tom Dina.s.s's coat. What's that?”
A peculiar loud sneeze rang out suddenly from across the rough moorland to their right, where the blocks of granite lay thick.