Part 69 (2/2)
The subject dropped; but that night, impressed as they had been by what they had heard, and partly from partaking too liberally of a late supper, both Gwyn and Joe had dreams about the sea breaking into and flooding the mine, Gwyn dreaming in addition that he behaved in a very gallant way. For he seemed to find the hole through which the water pa.s.sed in, and stopped it by thrusting in his arm, which stuck fast, and, try how he would, he could not extricate it, but stood there with the water gradually stifling him, and preventing him from calling aloud for help.
The heat and darkness at last rescued him from his perilous position-- that is to say, he awoke to find himself lying upon his back with his face beneath the clothes; and these being thrown off, he saw that the morning suns.h.i.+ne was flooding the bedroom, and the memory of the troublous dream rapidly died away.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE.
AFTER A LAPSE.
”That makes the fourth,” said Colonel Pendarve, tossing a letter across to his son in the office one morning when the mine was in full work; ”four proposals from Mr Dix, and I have had three at intervals from that other legal luminary, Brownson. Seven applications to buy the mine in two years, Gwyn. Yes, it will be two years next week since we began mining, and in those two years you and Joe Jollivet have grown to be almost men--quite men in some respects, though you don't shave yet.”
”Yes, I do, father,” said Gwyn, smiling.
”Humph!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Colonel, ”then it's an utter waste of time.
There, answer that letter and say emphatically No.”
The Colonel left the office, and Gwyn read the letter.
”Look here, Joe,” he said; and Joe Jollivet, who had climbed up to six feet in the past two years, slowly rose from his table at the other side of the office, unfolding himself, as it were, like a carpenter's double-hinged rule, and crossed to where Gwyn was seated with his table covered with correspondence.
Joe read the letter, and threw it back.
”Well,” he said, ”it's a pity they don't sell it; but it's the old story: father says 'No,' as he has started mining and it pays, he shall go on, so that I may succeed him.”
”And Colonel Pendarve, ex-officer of cavalry and now half-proprietor of Ydoll Mine, says precisely the same on behalf of his fine, n.o.ble, handsome son Gwyn. Look here, Joe, why don't you drop it, and swell out the other way?”
”Going to begin that poor stuff again?” said Joe, sourly.
”You make me. I declare I believe you've grown another inch in the night. What a jolly old cuc.u.mber you are! You'll have to go on your knees next time you go down the mine.”
”You answer your letter, and then I want to talk to you.”
”What about?”
”I'll tell you directly you've written your letter. Get one piece of business out of your way at a time.”
”Dear me; how methodical we are,” said Gwyn; but he began writing his answer, while, instead of going back to his table, Joe crossed to the hearthrug, where Grip was lying curled up asleep, and bending down slowly he patted the dog's head and rubbed his ears, receiving an intelligent look in return, while the curly feathery tail rapped the rug.
”There you are, Mr Lawyer Dix, Esquire,” said Gwyn, after das.h.i.+ng off the reply; ”now, don't bother us any more, for we are not going to sell--Hi! Grip, old man, rabbits!”
The dog sprang to his feet uttered a sharp bark, and ran to the door before realising that it meant nothing; and then, without the sign of a limp, walked slowly back and lay down growling.
”Ha, ha!” laughed Gwyn; ”says 'You're not going to humbug me again like that,' as plain as a dog can speak.”
”Well, it's too bad,” said Joe. ”Think of the boy who cried 'wolf.'
Some day when you want him he won't come.”
”Oh, yes, he will; Grip knows me. Come here, old man.”
<script>