CHAPTER TEN. · Part 3

"But that won't do, my lads," cried Hardock, excitedly. "We want to be all friends here, and he belongs to the enemy. They can't take him on! It would mean trouble, as sure as you're both there. Oh, they wouldn't engage he."

Hardock said no more, for Dinass had seen them as he turned from the office door, and came toward them at once.

"Are you?" he said to Hardock, without the `How'; and the captain nodded in a sulky way.

"What do you want here?" he said.

"Just whatever you like, captain. I'm an old hand, and ready for anything. The guv'nors have took me on, and I'm come to work."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

SAM HARDOCK DISAPPROVES.

_Clank, clank_! and _wash, wash_! The great pump worked and the water came up clear and bright, to rush along the channel cut in the floor of the adit and pour from the end like a feathery waterfall into the sea, the spray being carried like a shower of rain for far enough on a breezy day. But there seemed to be no end to it, and the proprietors began to look anxious.

Still Hardock's face was always cheery.

"Only because she's so big underground, and there's such a lot to get out, you see, my lads. She's right enough. Why, that water's been collecting from perhaps long before I was born. We shall get her dry some day."

But Dinass, who somehow always seemed to be near when the boys were about the mine, looked solemn, and as soon as Hardock's back was turned he gave Gwyn a significant wink.

"I only hope he's right," said the man.

"Then you don't know he is?" said Joe, sharply.

"I don't say nothing, young gents, nothing at all; but that pump's been going long enough now to empty any mine, and yet, if you both go and look at the water, you'll see it's coming as fast as ever and just as clear."

"Because they haven't got to the bottom of it yet," said Gwyn.

"It aren't that, young gentleman," said Dinass, mysteriously. "Of course it aren't my business, but if the mine belonged to me I should begin to get uncomfortable."

"Why?" asked Joe.

"Because I should be thinking that the old folks who digged this mine had to come up it in a hurry one day."

"Why?--because there were bogies and goblins in it?"

"No, sir, because they broke through one day into an underground river; and you can't never pump dry a place like that. But there, I don't know, gentlemen--that's only what I think."

The man went about his work, over which he was so assiduous that even Hardock could not complain, and the latter soon after encountered the lads.

"Don't say Dinass told us," whispered Gwyn. "Sam hates him badly enough as it is. Let him think that it's our own idea."

"Not got to the bottom of the water yet, then?" said Gwyn.

"No, sir--not yet, not yet," replied the captain, blandly; "and it won't come any the quicker for you joking me about it."

"But aren't you beginning to lose heart?"

"Lose heart? Wouldn't do to lose heart over a mine, sir. No, no; man who digs in the earth for metals mustn't lose heart."

"But we're not digging, only pumping."

"But we might begin in one of these galleries nearly any time, sir. I've been down, and I've seen better stuff than they're getting in some of the mines, I can tell you, sir. But we'd better have the water well under first."

"But suppose you are never going to get it under?"

"Eh? No, I don't s'pose anything of the kind. It's fresh water, and we must soon bottom it."

"But suppose it's an underground river, Sam?" said Joe, sharply.

"Underground river, my lad? Then that will be a fine chance for you two. I should be for getting my tackle ready, and going fishing as soon as the water's low enough. Who knows what you might ketch?"

"Nothing to laugh at, Sam," said Gwyn, sternly. "If there should prove to be an underground stream, you'll never pump the mine dry."

"Never, sir, and I shouldn't like to try; but," the man continued with a twinkle of the eye, "the steam-engine will. That's the beauty of these things--they never get tired. Here's the guv'nors."

Colonel Pendarve came up with the Major, both looking very serious, and evidently troubled by the slow progress over the water.

"Been down the shaft, Hardock?" said the former.

"Yes, sir; just come up."

"Any better news?" said the Major, quickly.

"No, sir; it's just about the same. Couldn't be better."

"Not be better, man! The anxiety is terrible."

"Oh, no, sir," said Hardock; "that's only because you worry yourself over it. Water's been steadily sinking ever since we began to pump."

"But so slowly--so slowly, man."

"Yes, sir, but there's the wonder of it. Place is bigger than we expected."

"Then the water is falling, Hardock?" said the Colonel.

"Yes, sir, steady and sure; and whenever the pump has been stopped, the water hasn't risen, which is the best sign of all."

"Yes; we must have patience, Jollivet, and wait."

"Yes, sir," put in Hardock; "and if I might make so bold as to speak I wouldn't engage anyone else for the present. When the mine's dry it will be time enough."

"No; better get recruits while we can," said the Colonel.

"But you have ideas on paying wages, sir, and I fancy I know the best sort of men we want."

"Ah, you don't like the man Dinass," said the Colonel.

"No, sir, I don't; not at all."

"But you said he worked well and knew his business."

"Yes, sir; but I don't like him none the more."

"Petty jealousy, my man, because you did not have a word in the business. Come along, Major, and let's see how the pump's getting on."

"Jealousy," grunted Hardock; "just as if I'd be jealous of a chap like that. What yer laughing at, Mr Gwyn?"

"You, Sam. Why, you're as jealous of Dinass as you can be."

"Think so, sir? What do you say, Mr Joe Jollivet?"

"Didn't say anything, but I thought so. You're afraid of his taking your place as foreman or captain."

"Me?" cried the man, indignantly. "'Fraid of an odd-job sort of a chap, took on like out of charity, being able to take my place? Come, I do like that, Master Joe. What do you think of it, Mr Gwyn?"

"Think Joe Jollivet's right," said Gwyn, hotly; and Hardock turned upon him angrily,--

"Well, aren't it enough to make me, sir. Here was I out of work through mine after mine being advertised, and none of 'em a bit of good. And what do I do but sit down and puzzle and think out what could be done, till I hit upon Ydoll and went up and examined it, and looked at bits of stuff that I found on the bank and round about the mouth, till I was sure as sure that it was a good thing that had never been properly worked, or they wouldn't have pitched away the good ore they did. Though what could you expect from people ever so long ago who had no proper machinery to do things with; and the more I work here the more I'm sure of there being heaps of good stuff to be got. Well, what do I do? Talks to you young gents about it, don't I? and then your fathers laugh at it all, and I'm regularly upset till they took the idea up. Then I set to and got the place in going order, and it's bound to be a very big thing, and all my doing, as you may say; and then up comes Mr Dinass to shove his nose in like the thin edge of a wedge. How would you both like it if it was you?"

"Well, I shouldn't like it at all," said Gwyn.

"Of course, you wouldn't, sir, nor Mr Joe neither; and I just tell Mr Tom Dinass this: so long as he goes on and does his work, well and good--I sha'n't quarrel with him; but if he comes any underhanded games and tries to get me out of my place, I'll go round the mine with him."

"You'll do what?" cried Joe.

"See how deep the mine is with him, sir, and try how he likes that."

Sam Hardock gave the lads a very meaning nod and walked away, leaving the pair looking inquiringly at each other.

"He'd better mind what he's about," said Joe. "That Tom Dinass is an ugly customer if he's put out."

"Yes, but it's all talk," said Gwyn. "People don't pitch one another down mines; and besides, you couldn't pitch anyone down our mine on account of the platforms. Why, you couldn't drop more than fifteen or twenty feet anywhere."

"No, but it would be very ugly if those two were to quarrel and fight."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

A MENTAL KINK.

The time went on, with the carpenters and engineers hard at work. As fast as the water was lowered enough, fresh platforms were placed across the shaft. After a little consideration and conference with Hardock, it was decided not to let the men go up and down the mine by means of ladders on account of the labour and loss of time, but to erect one of the peculiar beams used in some mines, the platforms being at equal distances favouring the arrangement.

The boys were present at the consultation, and when it was over they went off for a stroll, Grip following in a great state of excitement, and proceeding to stalk the gulls whenever he saw any searching for spoil on the grassy down at the top of the cliffs.

But the dog had no success. The gulls always saw him coming, and let him creep pretty near before giving a few hops with outstretched wings, and then sailing away just above his head, leaving him snapping angrily and making his futile bounds.

After a time the boys threw themselves on the grass at the top of one of the highest cliffs, from whence they could look down through the transparent sea at the purply depths, or at the pale-green shallows, where the sand had drifted, or again, at where all the seaweed was of a rich golden brown.

It was a lovely day, and in the offing the tints on the sea were glorious, but the boys had no eyes for anything then. So to speak, they were looking back at the meeting which had just taken place at Colonel Pendarve's.

"Father looked very serious about these lift things," said Gwyn, at last.

"Enough to make him; it's nothing but pay, pay, pay. I want to see them get to work and make money. It will be skilly and bread for us if the mine fails."

"'Tisn't going to fail. Don't be a coward. See what a grand thing this new apparatus will be."

"Will it?" said Joe. "I don't understand it a bit."

"Why, it's easy enough."

"I can understand about a bucket or a cage, let up and down by a rope running over a wheel, but this seems to me to be stupid."

"Nonsense! It's you who are stupid. Can't you see that a great beam is to go from the top to the bottom of the mine?"

"That's nonsense. Where are they going to get one long enough?"

"Can't they join a lot together till it is long enough, old Wisdom teeth? Of course, it will have to be made in bits, and put together."

"Well, what then?" cried Joe.

"What then? Sam Hardock and the engineer explained it simply enough. The beam is to have a little standing-place on it at every eighteen feet."

"Yes, I understand that, and it's to be attached to an engine lever which will raise it eighteen feet, and then lower it eighteen feet."

"Of course. Well, what's the good of pretending you did not understand?"

"I didn't pretend; I don't understand."

Gwyn laughed.

"You are a fellow! There'll be a ledge for a man to stand on, all down the beam from top to bottom exactly opposite the regular platform."

"Yes, I understand that."

"Well, then, what is it you don't understand?" cried Gwyn, smiling.

"How it works."

"Why, you said you did just now. Oh, I say, Jolly-wet, what a foggy old chap you are. You said as plain as could be, that the beam rose and fell eighteen feet."

"Oh, yes, I said that, but I don't understand about the men."

"Well, you are a rum one, Joe. Is it real, or are you making believe?"

"Real. Now, suppose it was us who wanted to go down."

"Well, suppose it was us."

"What do we do?"

"Why, we--"

"No, no, let me finish. I say, what do we do? We step on the ledge attached to the beam?"

"Of course we do, only one at a time."

"Very well, then, one at a time. Then down goes the beam eighteen feet to the next platform."

"Yes, and then up it rises again eighteen feet, and most likely there'd be a man on every ledge, from top to bottom."

"Well, what's the good of that?"

"Good? Why, so that the men can ride up or down when they're tired, and do away with the ladders."

"Isn't that absurd? I'm sure my father never meant to put a lot of money into this thing so as to give the men a ride up and down on a patent see-saw."

"Oh I say, Joe, what a chap you are! What have you got in your head?"

"This old see-saw that Hardock and the engineer want us to have, of course."

"Well, can't you see how good it will be?"

"No, I can't, nor you neither."

"But don't you see it sends the men all down eighteen feet into the mine?"

"Of course I can. Never mind the men. Suppose it's me, and I step on. It sends me down eighteen feet."

"Yes, at one stride, and then comes up again; can't you see that?"

"Of course, I can. It comes up again, and brings me up with it, ready to go down again. Why, it's no good. It will be only like a jolly old up-and-down."

Gwyn stared at his companion.

"What are you talking about?" he said, but in a less confident tone.

"You know, this gimcrack thing that was to do so much. Why the idea's all wrong. Don't you see?"

Gwyn stared at his companion again.

"Nonsense!" he cried, "it's all right. There'll be a man step on to it at every platform, and then down he'll go."

"Of course, and when he has gone down eighteen or twenty feet, up he'll come again. It sounds very pretty, but it's all a muddle. It's just like the story of the man who wanted to go to America, so he went up in a balloon and stayed there for hours and waited till the world had turned round enough, so as to come down in America."

"Oh, but this is all right; they explained it exactly to my father, and I saw it all plainly enough then: it was as clear as could be," said Gwyn, thoughtfully. "A man stepped on and went down."

"Yes, and the beam rose and he came up again."

Gwyn scratched his head and looked regularly puzzled, and the more he tried to see the plan clearly, the more confused he grew.

"Here, I can't make it out now," he said at last.

"Of course you can't, my lad; it's all wrong."

"But if it is, there will be a terrible loss."

"To be sure there will."

"Let's go and talk to my father about it."

"Or mine," said Joe.

"Our place is nearest, or perhaps father's in the office," cried Gwyn, excitedly. "Mind, I don't say you're right, because I seemed to see it all so clearly, though it has all turned misty and stupid like now."

"I know how it was," said Joe. "Sam Hardock had got the idea in his head, and he explained it all so that it seemed right; but it isn't, and the more I think about it, the more I wonder that no one saw what a muddle it was before."

"Gammon!" cried Gwyn, springing up, and the two lads started back toward the mine; but they were not destined to reach it then, for they had not gone above a hundred yards along by the edge of the cliff, when they came upon Dinass seated with his back to a rock, smoking his pipe and gazing out to sea between his half-closed eyelids.

"Hallo!" shouted Gwyn; "what are you doing here?"

"Smoking," said the man, coolly.

"Well, I can see that," cried Gwyn. "How is it you are not at work?"

"'Cause a man can't go on for ever without stopping. Man aren't a clock, as only wants winding up once a week; must have rest sometimes."

"Well, you have the night for rest," said Gwyn, sharply.

"Sometimes," said Dinass; "but I was working the pump all last night."

"Oh, then you're off work to-day?"

"That's so, young gentleman, and getting warm again in the sun. It was precious cold down there in the night, and I got wet right through to my backbone. I'm only just beginning to get a bit dried now."

"Look here, Ydoll," said Joe, sharply; "he'll have been talking to Sam Hardock about it, I know. Here, Tom Dinass, what about that hobby up-and-down thing Sam Hardock wants to have in the mine?"

"'Stead of ladders? Well, what about it?"

"It's all nonsense, isn't it?"

"Well, I shouldn't call it nonsense," said the man, thoughtfully, as he took his pipe out of his mouth and sat thinking.

"What do you call it, then?" said Joe.

"Mellancolly, sir, that's what I call it--mellancolly."

"Because it won't work?" cried Joe.

"But it would work, wouldn't it?" said Gwyn.

"Oh, yes, sir, it would work," said the man, "because the engine would pump it up and down."

"Of course it would," said Joe; "but what's the use of having a thing that pumps up and down, unless it's to bring up water?"

"Ay, but this is a thing as pumps men up and down," said Dinass.

"Gammon! It's impossible."

Dinass looked at him in astonishment.

"No, it aren't," he said gruffly. "I've been pumped up and down one times enough, so I ought to know."

"You have?" said Gwyn, eagerly.

"Ay, over Redruth way."

"There, then it is right," cried Gwyn. "I knew it was. What an old jolly wet blanket you are, Joe!"

"But it can't be right," cried Joe, stubbornly. "Here you get on a bit of a shelf and stand there and the beam goes down twenty feet."

"Nay, it don't," said Dinass, interrupting; "only twelve foot."

"Well it's all the same--it might be twenty feet, mightn't it?"

"I s'pose so, sir. Ones I've seen only goes twelve foot at a jog."

"Twelve feet, then; and then it jigs up again," cried Joe.

"Ay, just like a pump. Man-engines they call 'em," said Dinass; "but I have heard 'em called farkuns."

[Note: _Fahr-Kunst_. First used in the Harz Mountain mines.]

"Then you've seen more than one?" cried Gwyn.

"More than one, sir! I should think I have!"

"And they do go well?"

"Oh, yes, sir, they go well enough after a fashion."

"Can't," cried Joe.

"But they do, sir," said Dinass. "I've seen 'em and gone down deep mines on 'em."

"Now you didn't--you went down twelve feet," said Joe, more stubbornly than ever.

"Yes, sir, twelve foot at a time."

"And then came up twelve feet."

"That's right, sir."

"Then what's the good of them if they only give you a ride up and down twelve feet?"

"To take you to the bottom."

"But they can't," cried Joe.

"I dunno about can't!" said the man, gruffly; "all I know is that they do take 'em up or down whenever you like, and saves a lot of time, besides being (I will say that for 'em) a regular rest."

"What, through just stepping on a shelf of the beam and stopping there?"

"Who said anything about stopping there?" cried the man, roughly. "You steps on to the shelf and down goes the beam twelve foot, and you steps off on to a bit o' platform. Up goes the beam and brings the next shelf level with you, and on you gets to that. Down you go another twelve foot, or another twenty-four. Steps off, up comes the next shelf, and you steps on. Down she goes again, and you steps on and off, and on and off, going down twelve foot at a time, till you're at the bottom, or where you want to be part of the way down at one of the galleries."

"Of course," cried Gwyn, triumphantly. "I knew it was German, all right, only I got a bit foggy over it when you said it wasn't."

"But--"

"I knew there was something. We forgot about stepping off and letting the beam rise."

Joe scratched his head.

"Don't you see now?" cried Gwyn.

"Beginning to: not quite," said Joe, still in the same confused way. Then, with a start, he gave his leg a hearty slap. "Why, of course," he cried, "I see it all clearly enough now. You step on and go down, and then step on and go up, and then you step on--and step on. Oh, I say, how is it the thing does work after all?"

"Why you--" began Gwyn, roaring with laughter the while, but Joe interrupted him.

"No, no; I've got it all right now. I see clearly enough. But it is puzzling. What an obstinate old block you were, Ydoll."

"Eh? Oh, come, I like that," cried Gwyn. "Why you--" Then seeing the mirthful look on his companion's face he clapped him on the shoulder. "You did stick to it, though, that it wouldn't go, and no mistake."

"Well, I couldn't see it anyhow. It was a regular puzzle," said Joe, frankly. "But I say, Tom Dinass, what made you call these man-engines melancholy things?"

"'Cause of the mischief they doos, sir. I do hope you won't have one here."

"Why? What mischief do they do?" cried Gwyn.

"Kills the poor lads sometimes. Lad doesn't step on or off at the right time, and he gets chopped between the step and the platform. It's awful then. 'Bliged to be so very careful."

"Man who goes down a mine ought to be very careful."

"O' course, sir; but they things are horrid bad. I don't like 'em."

"But they can't be so dangerous as ladders, or going down in a bucket at the end of a string or chain; you might fall, or the chain might break. Such things do happen," said Gwyn.

"Ay, sir, they do sometimes; but I don't like a farkun. Accident's an accident, and you must have some; but these are horrid, and we shall be having some accident with that dog of yours if we don't mind."

"Accident?" said Gwyn. "What do you mean?"

"He'll be a-biting me, and I shall have to go into horspittle."

"Oh, he won't hurt you," cried Gwyn.

"Don't know so much about that, sir," said the man, grinning. "I should say if he did bite he would hurt me a deal. Must have a precious nice pair o' legs, or he wouldn't keep smelling 'em as he does, and then stand licking his jaws."

"I tell you he won't hurt you," cried Gwyn. "Here, Grip--come away."

The dog looked up at his master, and passed his tongue about his lower jaw.

"Look at that, sir," said Dinass, laughing; but there was a peculiar look in his eyes. "Strikes me as he'd eat cold meat any day without pickles."

"I'll take care he sha'n't bite your legs, with or without pickles," said Gwyn, laughing. "Come along, Joe, and let's go and have a talk to Sam Hardock about the--what did he call it--far--far--what?"

"I don't know," replied Joe; "but somehow I wish Master Tom Dinass hadn't been taken on."

"Going to have a man-engine, are they?" muttered Dinass, as he sat watching the two lads from the corners of his eyes. "Seems to me that things have gone pretty nigh far enough, and they'll have to be stopped. Won't eat my legs with or without pickles, won't he? No, he won't if I know it. Getting pretty nigh all the water out too. Well, I daresay there'll be enough of it to drown that dog."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

GRIP TAKES AN INTEREST.

"Now, Joe, this ought to be a big day," said Gwyn, one bright morning. "Father's all in a fidget, and he looked as queer at breakfast as if he hadn't slept all night."

"Wasn't any as if," replied Joe; "my father says he didn't sleep a wink for thinking about the mine."

"Oh, but people often say they haven't slept a wink when they've been snoring all the night. See how the fellows used to say it at Worksop. I never believed them."

"But when father says it you may believe him, for when he has fits of the old jungle fever come back, I'm obliged to give him his doses to make him sleep."

"Well I woke ever so many times wondering whether it was time to get up. Once the moon was shining over the sea, and it was lovely. It would have been a time to have gone off to Pen Ree Rocks congering."

"Ugh, the beasts!" exclaimed Joe. "But, I say, what a thing it will be if the place turns out no good after all this trouble and expense."

"Don't talk about it," said Gwyn. "But Sam says it's right enough."

"And Tom Dinass shakes his head and says--as if he didn't believe it could be--that he hopes it may turn out all right, but he doubts it."

"Tom Dinass is a miserable old frog croaker. Sam knows. He says there's no doubt about it. The mine's rich, and it must have been worked in the old days in their rough way, without proper machinery, till the water got the better of them, and they had to give it up."

"I hope it is so," said Joe, with a sigh. "But, I say, what about going down?"

"Your father won't go down."

"Oh, yes, he will. He says he shall go in the skep if your father does."

"Oh, my father will go, of course; but he said I'd better not go till the mine was more dry, and the man-engine had been made and fitted."

"Hurrah! Glad of it!"

"What do you mean by that?" cried Gwyn, angrily.

"What I say! I don't see why you should be allowed to go, and me stay up at grass."

"Humph! Just the place for you," said Gwyn.

"And what do you mean by that?" cried Joe, angrily in turn.

"Proper place for a donkey where there's plenty of grass."

"Ah, now you've got one of your nasty disagreeable fits on. Just like a Cornishman--I mean boy."

"Better be a Cornish chap than a Frenchy."

"Frenchy! We've been long enough in England to be English now," cried Joe. "But it's too hard for us not to go."

"Regular shame!" said Gwyn. "I've been longing for this day so as to have a regular examination. It must be a wonderful place, Joe. Quite a maze."

"Oh, I don't know," said Joe, superciliously; "just a long hole, and when you've seen one bit you've seen all."

"That's what the fox said to the grapes," said Gwyn, with a laugh.

"No, he didn't; he said they were sour."

"Never mind; it's just your way. The place will be wonderful. There are sure to be plenty of crystals and stalactites and wonderful caverns and places. Oh, I do wish we were going down."

"I don't know that I do now--the place will be horribly damp."

"Fox again."

"Look here, Gwyn Pendarve, if you wish to quarrel, say so, and I'll go somewhere else."

"But I don't want to quarrel, Joseph Jollivet, Esquire," said Gwyn, imitating the other's stilted way of speaking. "What's the good of quarrelling with you?"

Joe picked up a stone and threw it as far as he could, so as to get rid of some of his irritability; and Grip, who had been sitting watching the boys, wondering what was the matter, went off helter-skelter, found the stone, and brought it back crackling against his sharp white teeth, dropped it at Joe's feet, and began to dance about and make leaps from the ground, barking, as if saying, "Throw it again--throw it again!"

"Lie down, you old stupid!" cried Gwyn.

"Let him have a run," said Joe, picking up the stone and jerking it as far as he could over the short grassy down, the dog tearing off again.

"Ugh! Look at your hand," said Gwyn, "all wet with the dog's `serlimer,' as the showman called it."

"Oh, that's clean enough," said Joe; but he gave his hand a rub on the grass all the same.

The dog came back panting, and Joe picked up the stone to give it another jerk, but, looking round for a fresh direction in which to throw it, he dropped the piece of granite.

"Come on!" he shouted, as he started off; "they're going to the shaft."

Gwyn glanced in the direction of the mine, and started after Joe, raced up to him, and they ran along to the building over the mouth, getting there just at the same time as the Colonel and Major Jollivet, the dog coming frantically behind.

"Well, boys," cried the Colonel, "here we are, you see. Wish us luck."

"Of course I do, father," said Gwyn. "But you'd better let us come, too."

"No, no, no, no," said the Colonel, "better wait a bit. Besides, you are not dressed for it. We are, you see."

He smilingly drew attention to their shooting caps and boots and long mackintoshes.

"Yes," said the Major, laughing, "we're ready for a wet campaign."

Gwyn was not in the habit of arguing with his father, whose quietest words always carried with them a military decision which meant a great deal, so he was silent, and contented himself with a glance at Joe, who took his cue from him and remained quiet.

Several of the men were there standing about the square iron-bound box attached by a wire rope to a wheel overhead, and known as the skep, which, with another, would be the conveyances of the ore that was to be found, from deep down in the mine to the surface, or, as the miners termed it, to grass; and until the man-engine was finished this was the ordinary way up and down.

There was Sam Hardock, muffled up in flannel garments, and wearing a leather cap like a helmet, with a brim, in front of which was his feather represented by a thick tallow candle. He was armed with a stout pick in his belt, and the Colonel and Major both carried large geological hammers.

Tom Dinass was there, too, in charge with the engineer of the skep, to ensure a safe descent.

Then there were lanthorns, and Hardock, in addition, bore by a strap over his shoulder what looked like a large cartouche box, but its contents were to re-load the lanthorns, being thick tallow candles.

"Got plenty of matches, Hardock?" said Gwyn, eagerly.

"Oh yes, sir, two tin boxes full."

"We have each a supply of wax matches, too, my boy," said the Colonel. "All ready, I think," he continued, turning to the Major, who nodded, and then said to him in a low tone of voice, overheard by the boys in addition to him for whom it was addressed,--

"If anybody had told me six months ago that I should do this, I should have called him mad."

"Never mind, old fellow," said the Colonel, laughingly; "better than vegetating as we were, and doing nothing. It sets my old blood dancing in my veins again to have something like an adventure. Well," he said aloud, "we may as well make a start. By the way, have you any lunch to take down?"

"Oh, yes," said the Major, tapping a sandwich-box in his coat pocket; "too old a campaigner to forget my rations."

"Right," said the Colonel, tapping his own breast. "Well, boys, if we get lost and don't come up again by some time next week, you will have to organise a search-party, and come down and find us."

"Better let us come with you, father, to take care of you both."

The Colonel laughed, and shook his head.

"Now, Major," he cried, "forward!"

The Major stepped into the great wooden bucket, the Colonel followed, and then Sam Hardock took his place beside them.

"All ready!" cried the Colonel. "Now, Hardock, give the word."

The mining captain obeyed, there was a sharp, clicking noise, as the engineer touched the brake, and the wheel overhead began to revolve; then the skep dropped quickly and silently down through the square hole in the rough plank floor formed over the great open shaft, the pump being now still. Then, all at once, as the boys caught at the stout railing about the opening and looked down, the lanthorns taken began to glow softly and grew brighter for a time; then the light decreased, growing more and more feeble till it was almost invisible, and Gwyn drew a deep breath and looked up at the revolving wheel.

"Seems precious venturesome, doesn't it?" observed Joe.

"Not half so bad as going down with a rope round you, and feeling it coming undone," said Gwyn.

"No, but you did have water to fall into," said Joe. "If the wire rope breaks, they'll fall on the stone bottom and be smashed."

"Ah, yes," said Dinass, in solemn tones. "Be a sad business that."

"Will you be quiet, Tom Dinass!" cried Gwyn, irritably. "You're always croaking about the mine."

"Nay, sir, not me," replied the man. "It were Mr Joe here as begun talking about the rope breaking and their coming down squelch."

"Well, don't let anybody talk about such things," said Gwyn, who spoke as if he had been running hard. "Nearly down now, aren't they?"

"About half, sir," said the engineer.

"Oh, I don't want to talk," said Dinass; "only one can't help thinking it's queer work for two gents to do. It's a job for chaps like me. Howsoever, I hope they won't come to no harm."

Grip growled at something, as if, in fact, he were resenting the man's words, but it might have only been that he was being troubled by the flea which he had several times that morning tried to scratch out of his thick coat.

"You'd better not let them come to harm. I say, mind they don't come down bang at the bottom," said Gwyn, after what seemed to be a long time.

"He'll see to that, sir," said the man, nodding his head in the direction of the engineer.

"Yes, young gentlemen, that's all right. I've got the depth to an inch, and they'll come down as if on to a spring."

"I say, how deep it seems," said Joe, who also was rather breathless.

"Deep, sir!" said Dinass, with a laugh; "you don't call this deep? Why, it's nothing to some of the pits out Saint Just way--is it, mate?"

"Nothing at all," said the engineer. "This is a baby."

"Rather an old baby," said Gwyn, smiling. "Why, this must be the oldest mine in Cornwall."

"Dessay it is, sir," said the man; and he checked the wheel as he spoke, just as an empty skep of the same size as that which had descended made its appearance and came to a standstill.

"Right!" came up from below, in a hollow whisper, and Gwyn drew a deep breath.

"You two ought to have gone with 'em," said Dinass, "and had a look round."

"Oh, don't bother," cried Gwyn, petulantly. "I suppose we shall have our turn."

"No offence meant, sir," said the man. "Better let me go down with you. Dessay I can show you a lot about the mine."

"I suppose it will be all one long passage from the bottom," said Joe.

"Not it, sir," said Dinass, holding out his bare arm, and spreading his fingers. "It'll go like that. Lode runs along for a bit like my wrist, and then spreads out like my fingers here, or more like the root of a tree, and they pick along there to get the stuff where it runs richest. But you'll see. We don't know yet; but, judging from the water pumped out, this mine must wander a very long way. There's no knowing how far."

"I say, how long will they stop down?" said Joe.

"Oh, I don't know," replied Gwyn. "Hours, I daresay."

"Plenty of time for you young gents to take a boat and have half-a-day with the bass. There's been lots jumping out of the water against Ydoll Point. I should say they'd be well on the feed."

"That's likely!" said Gwyn. "You don't suppose we shall leave here till they come up?"

"Oh, I didn't know, sir. Makes no difference to me; only it'll be rather dull waiting."

Grip uttered a low, uneasy growl again, and looked up at his master, and then went to the opening and peeped down.

"Like us to send him down in the skep, sir?" said Dinass, grinning. "Better not, p'r'aps, as he might lose his way."

"No fear of Grip losing his way--eh, Joe?"

Joe shook his head.

"He'd find his way back from anywhere if he had walked over the ground. Wouldn't you, Grip?"

The dog gave a sharp bark as he turned his head, and then looked down again, whining and uneasy.

"What's the matter, old boy?" said Gwyn. "It's all right, old man, they've gone down. Will you go with me?"

The dog uttered a volley of barks, then turned to Dinass and growled.

"Quiet, sir!" cried Gwyn. "Look here, Tom Dinass, you must tease him, or he wouldn't be so disagreeable to you."

"Me? Me tease him, sir! Not me."

"Well, take my advice," said Gwyn, "don't. He's a splendid dog to his friends; so you make good friends with him as soon as you can."

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

ANXIOUS TIMES.

An hour glided by and not a sound was heard from below. Then another hour, and the boys began to grow impatient.

"Why, the place must be very big," said Gwyn, after straining over the rail and looking down for some time. "Shall I shout?"

"Couldn't do no harm," said Dinass; and Gwyn hailed several times, and then gave place to Joe, who was beginning to look uncomfortable.

But the second series of shouting produced nothing but a dull smothered echo, and the lad spoke quite hoarsely when he turned to Gwyn, who was looking angrily at Dinass and the engineer, both of whom sat coolly enough close to the skep shaft, waiting the signal to lift.

"Think there's anything wrong?" said Joe in a whisper to the engineer.

"Oh, no, the place is big. See what a while it took to pump it out."

"But there may be deep holes here and there, and it would be horrible if they had slipped down one."

"They wouldn't all slip down a hole. If one did, the others would come for help. No; they're thoroughly exploring the place and chipping off specimens. I daresay they'll bring up quite a load."

"I hope so," said Joe, solemnly, and Gwyn, who felt very uncomfortable, tried to cheer him up, but in a low voice, so that the others should not hear.

"I say, how strange it is that if anyone doesn't come back when you expect him you are sure to think he has met with an accident."

"I don't, if they've only gone out," said Joe, with a shiver. "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 passages 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 passed, 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, Dinass," 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."

"Hush! 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 passages below there, and they would be hours wandering about. Of course they go slowly."

"Couldn't be miles of passages," said Joe, piteously.

"Think the mine's very big, Dinass?" said Gwyn, quietly.

"Oh, yes, sir, bigger than I thought for."

"Some mines are very far to the end, aren't they?"

"Miles," said the man calmly, and Gwyn gave his companion a nudge. "I've been in some of 'em myself. Why, I know of one long 'un--an adit as goes from mine to mine to get rid of the pumpings--and it's somewhere about thirty miles."

"Hear that, Joe?" whispered Gwyn.

"Yes, I hear," said the lad, breathlessly.

"I don't say there's anything of the kind here, of course; but I know one place where there's more than sixty miles o' workings, and it would take some time to go all over that, wouldn't it?"

The boys were silent, and the engineer went on.

"Oh yes, that's right enough," he said; "and to my mind it's rather bad for any folk strange to go down a mine they know nothing about."

Joe started violently.

"You see it's all noo to 'em," continued the engineer, "and they may wander away into places they know nothing about, and never find their way out again."

"Gwyn!" groaned Joe.

"Hush! Be quiet!" was whispered back.

"I have heard of such things."

"But that was in deserted mines," said Gwyn, sharply.

"Yes, I believe it was in deserted mines, now you say so, sir."

"Of course it was, Joe, where nobody knew that they had gone down."

"How could they have gone down without anyone knowing?" cried Joe. "There must have been someone to let them down."

"Nay, they might have been venturesome and gone down by ladders, same as the old ones used to be from sollar to sollar."

"What's a sollar?" said Gwyn, more for the sake of saying something than from a desire to know.

"What you calls platforms or floors," said Dinass. "Well, I will say one thing; I do hope the guv'nors haven't lost their way."

"Of course, mate," said the engineer; "so do I; but if I was you young gents, I should begin to feel a little uncomfortable about them below."

"We are horribly," cried Joe, wildly.

"Exactly so, sir, for you see it must be getting on for four hours since they started."

"Nay, not so much as that," cried Dinass.

"I didn't say it was, mate--I only said it was getting on for four hours. There mayn't be nothing wrong, but there may be; and there wouldn't be no harm in doing something now. What do you say to getting some of the lads to go? They was talking about it when I went outside, as I told mate Dinass here--didn't I, my son?"

"Ay, you did--What do you say, Mr Gwyn?"

"It is time to act," cried Joe, excitedly.

"Yes," said Gwyn, as he drew a deep breath, "we must do something. Get lanthorns and candles."

"Shall I call to some of the men, sir," said Dinass, "and hear what they say?"

The answer came from the doorway, where three or four heads appeared, and one of the owners said:

"I say, mates, aren't it time we heerd something about them as is gone down?"

"Yes," said Gwyn, firmly; "we're going down to see. Will you come with me, Joe?"

The boy's lips parted, though no words came; but he put out his hand and gripped his companion's fast.

"Get lights, some of you, quick!" cried Gwyn; and a murmur was heard outside, a murmur that increased till it was a loud cheer; and then, distinctly from outside, a voice was heard to say,--

"Hear that, mates? The young masters are going down."

And as if to endorse this, Grip, who had suddenly grown excited, burst into a loud bark.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

TRUE TO THE CORE.

"Do you mean it, Master Gwyn?" said Dinass, sharply.

"Mean it? Of course. You'll come with us and help."

The man's mouth opened widely, and he stared for a few moments before he spoke,--

"Help to get lanthorns and candles, sir? Yes, of course."

"Come down with us," said Gwyn, sharply. "You can't let us go alone."

"Not let you go alone, sir," growled the man, surlily. "Well, you see--"

"Yes, we see," cried Gwyn, "you have been used to mines, we have not."

"Much used to this one as I am, sir. I don't know no more about it than you do."

"'Course you don't, matey," said the engineer, "but you can't say you won't go with 'em to look for the guv'nors and our mate."

"Can't I? Yes, I can," cried Dinass, fiercely; "easy; I won't go-- there!"

"Yah!" came in a fierce growl from the men outside.

"Ah, but you don't mean it," cried the engineer.

"Yes, I do," cried Dinass. "Don't you be so precious handy sending people where they don't want to go. Why don't you go yourself?"

"How can I go?" said the engineer, sharply. "My dooty's here. Can you manage the skep and rope?"

"How do I know till I try?" growled Dinass.

"Try? Why, you'd be doing some mischief. I've no right to leave my work while anyone's down, and I won't leave it; but I'd go if I was free."

"Tom Dinass will go," said Joe. "You can't leave us in the lurch like this."

"'Course not: it's his gammon," cried a man at the opening into the shed-like place. "You'll go, mate."

"Ay, he'll go," rose in chorus.

"No, he won't," said Dinass, angrily. "I get five-and-twenty shilling a week for working here, not for going to chuck away my life."

"Gahn!" shouted a man. "Your life aren't worth more nor no one else's. Who are you?"

"Never you mind who I am," growled Dinass, "I aren't going to chuck away my life, and so I tell you."

"Who wants you to chuck away your life? Go on down, like a man," said the engineer.

"You go yourself; I'll take care of the engines," cried Dinass.

"That will do," said Gwyn, quietly. "Let us have candles, please, quick."

"Oh, you're not going down alone, young gen'lemen," said the man at the doorway who had spoken the most. "Some on us'll go with you if he won't, but the guv'nors made him second like to Master Hardock, and he ought to go, and he will, too, or we'll make him."

"Oh, will you?" cried Dinass, fiercely; "and how will you make me?"

"Why, if you don't go down like a man along with the young masters, we'll tie you neck and crop, and stuff you in the skep, and two more of us'll come, too, and make you go first. What do you say to that?"

"Say you daren't," cried Dinass.

"What do you say, lads?" cried the man.

"Oh, we'll make him go," came in chorus.

By this time, as Dinass stood there angry and defiant, the engineer had produced a candle-box and lit a couple of lanthorns, when Gwyn and Joe each took one, and stepped into the empty skep, followed by Grip, who curled up by their feet.

"Can't go like that, young gents. Them caps won't do. Here, come out. Who'll lend young masters hats?"

A couple of the strong leathern hats were eagerly offered, but only one would fit, and a fresh selection had to be made.

"Better have flannel jackets, sir," said the engineer to Gwyn.

"No, no, we can't wait for anything else. Come, Joe. Now let us down."

He raised the iron rail which protected the hole, and again stepped into the skep, followed by Joe, lanthorn in hand, and with the candle-box slung from his shoulder.

"Now, Tom Dinass," cried the engineer, "I'm with you."

"Nay, I don't go this time," was the surly reply, as Dinass looked sharply round at the men who had crowded into the shed, and in response to a meaning nod from the engineer began to edge nearer to him.

"Are you quite ready, Joe? Lower away," cried Gwyn.

"Wait a minute, sir," said the engineer, "you aren't quite ready. Now, then, Dinass, be a man."

"Oh, I'm man enough," said the miner, taking out his pipe and tobacco, "but I don't go down this time, I tell you."

"Yes, you do," said the man who had spoken. "Ready?"

"Nay," cried Dinass, thrusting back his pipe and pouch and catching up a miner's pick, which he swung round his head; "keep back, you cowards. You're afraid to go yourselves, and you want to force me. Keep off, or I'll do someone a mischief. There isn't one of you as dare tackle me like a man."

"Oh, yes, there is," cried the first speaker; "any of us would. Now, once more, will you go down with the young gentlemen?"

"Go yourself. No!"

"Oh, I'd go, but it's your job. You're made next to Master Sam Hardock, so just show that you're worth the job."

"Lower away there," cried Dinass, "and let the boys go down theirselves."

"Not me," said the engineer.

"Right," said the leader of the men. "Now, Tom Dinass, this time settles it: will you go down?"

"No!"

"Then here goes to make you."

The man dashed at Dinass, who struck at him with the pick, but the handle was cleverly caught, the tool wrested from his grasp and thrown on the floor, while, before the striker could recover himself, he was seized, there was a short struggle, and his opponent, who was a clever Cornish wrestler, gave him what is termed the cross-buttock, lifted him from the ground, and laid him heavily on his back.

The men raised a frantic cheer of delight, which jarred terribly on the two boys in their anxious state, though all the same they could not help feeling satisfied at seeing Dinass prostrated and lying helpless with the miner's foot upon his chest.

"Let him get up," said Gwyn; "we'd sooner go alone than with him; but if you'll come with us I should be glad."

"I'd come with you, sir, or any on us would--"

"Ay, ay," chorused the men.

"But we feel, as miners, that when a man's got his dooty to do, he must do it. So Master Tom Dinass here must go by fair means or foul."

"I'll go," cried Dinass. "Set o' cowards--ten or a dozen on you again' one."

"Nay, there was only one again' you with bare hands and without a pick. You go down, mate, and when you come up t'others'll see fair, and I'll show you whether I'm a coward."

"Don't I tell you I'll go?" growled Dinass. "Let me get up."

"Do you mean it? No games, or it'll be the worse for you," said the miner, sternly.

"I said I'd go with them," growled Dinass. "I aren't afraid, but I warn't engaged to do this sort of thing."

"You'll go, then?"

"Are you deaf? Yersss!" roared Dinass; and as the miner took his foot from the prostrate man's chest another moved to the doorway to guard against retreat.

But if Dinass had any intention of breaking away he did not show it. He rose to his feet, shook himself, and picking up his hat, which had been knocked off, put it on, took it off again, glanced round for one he considered suitable, snatched it from its wearer's head, put it on his own and pitched the one he had worn to the miner he had robbed, and then stepped into the skep.

"There you are," he said. "Now, then, lower away;" and as he spoke he stooped down quickly seized the dog by the collar, and swung him out of the skep.

"Don't! Don't do that," cried Gwyn. "Let the dog come."

But his words were too late; the rail was clapped down, the engineer had seized the handle; there was a clang, a sharp blow upon a gong, and it seemed to the boys that the floor they had just left had suddenly shot up to the ceiling. Then it gave place to a glow of light dotted with heads, and amidst a low murmur of voices there rose the furious barking of a dog.

Directly after, they were conscious of the singular sensation that is felt when in a swing and descending after the rise, but in a greatly intensified way. Then the glow overhead grew fainter and smaller, and the lanthorns they held seemed to burn more brightly, while a peculiar whishing, dripping noise made itself heard, telling of water oozing from some seam.

"For we always are so jolly, oh! So jolly, oh!" sang Dinass in a harsh, discordant voice. "How do you like this, youngsters?"

Neither of the boys answered, but the same thought came to them both--"that their companion was singing to make a show of his courage."

"I didn't want to fight," continued Dinass; "but I could have knocked that fellow Harry Vores into the middle of next week if I'd liked. I'd have come down, too, without any fuss if they'd asked me properly; but I'm not going to be bullied and driven, so I tell 'em."

Still neither Gwyn nor Joe spoke, but stood listening to the dripping water, and wondering at the easy way in which the skep went down past platform and beam, whose presence was only shown by the gleam of the wet wood as the lanthorns passed. And still down and down for what seemed to be an interminable length of time.

They knew that they must have passed the openings of several horizontal galleries, but they saw no signs of them, as they stood drawing their breath hard, till all at once the skep stopped, and Dinass shouted boisterously,--

"Here we are; bottom. Give's hold o' one o' them lanthorns, or we shall be in the sumph."

He snatched the lanthorn Joe carried, held it down, and stepped off the skep.

"It's all right," he said; "there's some planking here."

The two boys followed, and looked down into the black thick water of the sumph, a great tank into which the drainings of the mine ran ready for being pumped up; and now Gwyn held up his light to try and penetrate the gloom, but could only dimly trace the entrance of what appeared to be a huge, arch-roofed tunnel, and as they stepped over the rough wet granite beneath it, Dinass placed a hand to the side of his mouth and uttered a stentorian hail, which went echoing and rolling along before them, to be answered quite plainly from somewhere at a distance.

A load fell from Gwyn's breast, and he uttered a sigh of relief.

"It's all right, Joe," he said. "There they are, but some distance in. Come on."

He led the way, Joe followed, and Dinass came last with the other lanthorn; and in a few minutes the great archway contracted and grew lower and lower, till it very nearly met their heads, and the sides of the place were so near that they could in places have been touched by the extended hands.

"Hold hard a moment," said Dinass, after they had gone on a short distance; and as the boys turned to him wonderingly, he continued, "this here's the main lead of course, but it's sure to begin striking out directly right and left like the roots of a tree. What you've got to do's to keep to the main lead, and not go turning off either side. It's not very easy, because they're often as big as one another. That's what I wanted to say to you as one thing to mind. T'other's to keep a sharp look-out for ways downward to lower leads. There would be no railings left round here, 'cause the wood'll all have rotted away. I'd keep your light low down, and if you see a place like a square well don't step into it. You won't break your neck, 'cause it will be quite full of water, for the pumping hasn't reached down there, but you might be drowned, for it aren't likely I'm coming down after you."

"I'll take care," said Gwyn, with his voice sounding husky; and Joe nodded, with his eyes looking wild and dilated.

"That's all I wanted to say," said Dinass, "so on you go."

"Give another shout," said Gwyn, "and let them know we're here."

"What for?" said the man, roughly.

"You heard what I said--to let them know we're here. They answered before, but I suppose voices travel a long way."

"Sometimes," said the man, with a strange laugh.

"Shout, then; your voice is louder than ours," said Gwyn.

"What's the good o' shouting? They're miles away somewhere."

"No, no, you heard them answer."

"No I didn't," said the man, contemptuously; "that was only eckers."

"What?" cried Gwyn, with his heart seeming to stand still.

"Eckers. Hark here."

He put his hand to his mouth, and proved the truth of his words.

"Sam!"

"_Sam_!" very softly.

"Har!"

"_Har_!"

"Dock!"

"_Dock_!"--the echo coming some moments after the calls in a peculiar weird way.

"Sam 'Ardock!" shouted Dinass then, with a loudness and suddenness which made the boys start.

"_Dock_!" came back from evidently a great distance, giving such an idea of mystery and depth that the boys could hardly repress a shudder.

"Only eckers," said the man; "and as old Sam Hardock would say, `it's a gashly great unked place,' but I think there's some tin in it. Look there and there!"

He held up the lanthorn he carried close to the roof, which sparkled with little purply-black grains running in company with a reddish bloom, as if from rouge, amongst the bright quartz of the tunnel.

"Oh, never mind the tin," cried Joe. "Pray, pray go on; we're losing time."

"Yes, make haste," said Gwyn. "We'd better keep straight along here, and stop and shout at every opening or turning."

"Yes, that will be right," said Joe. "Only do keep on. My father is so weak from his illnesses, that I'm afraid he has broken down. I ought not to have let him come."

The words seemed strangely incongruous, and made Gwyn glance at his companion; but it was the tender nurse speaking, who had so often waited upon the Major through his campaign-born illnesses, and there was no call for mirth.

Onward they went along the rugged tunnel, which wound and zigzagged in all directions, the course of the ancient miners having been governed by the track of the lode of tin; and soon after they came to where a vein had run off to their left, and been laboriously cut out with chisel, hammer, and pick.

They shouted till the echoes they raised whispered and died away in the distance; but there was nothing to induce them to stay, and they went on again, to pause directly after by an opening on their right, where they again shouted in turn till they were hoarse, and once more went on to find branch after branch running from the main trunk, if main trunk it was; but all efforts were vain, and an hour must have gone by, nearly a quarter of which, at the last, had been here and there along the rugged gallery, without encountering a branch which showed where another vein had been followed.

It was very warm, and the slippery moisture of the place produced a feeling of depression that was fast ripening into despair. At first they had talked a good deal concerning the probabilities of the exploring party coming out into the main trunk from one of the branches they had passed, but, as Gwyn said, they dared not reckon upon this, and must keep on now they were there. And at last they went trudging on almost in silence, the tramping of their feet and the quaint echoes being all that was heard, while three black shadows followed after them along the rugged floor, like three more explorers watching to see which way they went.

All at once the silence was broken by Joe, who cried in a sharp, angry way,--

"Stop! Your candle's going out."

Gwyn stopped without turning, opened the door of the lanthorn, and uttered an ejaculation.

"Quite true," he said; "burned right down. I'll put in another candle."

The box was opened, a fresh one taken out, its loose wick burned and blown off in sparks, and then it was lit and stuck in the molten grease of the socket.

"You had better have another candle in yours, Dinass," said Joe; and he watched Gwyn's actions impatiently, while the lad carefully trimmed the wick, and waited till the grease of the socket cooled enough to hold the fresh candle firm.

"Now," said Joe, "you ought to give another good shout here before we start again."

There was no reply.

"Well, did you hear what was said?" cried Gwyn, closing and fastening his lanthorn.

Still there was no answer.

"Here, Tom Dinass," cried Gwyn, raising his lanthorn, as he turned to look back; "why don't you do what you're told?"

His answer was a sudden snatch at his arm by Joe, who clung to it in a fierce way.

"What's the matter? Aren't you well? Oh, I say, you must hold up now. Here, Tom Dinass."

"Gone!" gasped Joe, in a low whisper, full of horror.

"Gone? Nonsense! he was here just now."

"No. It's ever so long since he spoke to us. Gwyn, he has gone back and left us."

"Left us? What, alone here!" faltered Gwyn, as the grey, sparkling roof seemed to revolve before his eyes.

"Yes, alone here, Gwyn! Ydoll, old chap, it's horrible. Can we ever find our way back?"

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

TO THE BITTER END.

If ever an awful silence fell upon two unfortunate beings, it was upon those lads, deep down in the strange mazes of the ancient mine. For some moments neither could speak, but each stood gazing at his companion, with the two shadows strangely mingled upon the rugged, faintly-glittering wall.

Joe was the first to speak again, for his passionately-uttered question was not answered.

"He warned us to beware of the holes and places, and he must have slipped down one."

"Not he," said Gwyn, bitterly, as he stood scowling into the darkness. "He warned us when he was making up his mind to hang back and leave us. A miserable coward!"

"You think that?"

"I'm sure of it. A sneak! A miserable hound! Oh, how could anyone who calls himself a man act like this!"

"Perhaps he is close at hand after all. Let's try," cried Joe, and he uttered a long piercing hail, again and again, but with no other result than to raise the solemn echoes, which sounded awe-inspiring, and so startling, that the lad ceased, and gazed piteously at his companion.

"Feel scared, Joe?" said Gwyn at last.

Joe nodded.

"So do I. It's very cowardly, of course, but the place is so creepy and strange."

"Yes; let's get back. We can't do any more, can we?"

Gwyn made no reply, but stood with his brows knit, staring straight before him into the darkness beyond the dim halo cast by the lanthorn.

"Why don't you speak? Say something," cried Joe, half hysterically; but, though Gwyn's lips moved, no sounds came. "Gwyn!" cried Joe again, "say something. What's the good of us two being mates if we don't try to help each other?"

"I was trying to help you," said Gwyn at last, in a strange voice he hardly knew as his own; "but I was thinking so much I couldn't speak--I couldn't get out a word."

"Well, think aloud. Keep talking, or I shall go mad."

"With fright?" said Gwyn, slowly.

"I don't know what it is, but I feel as if I can't bear it. Say something."

"Well, that's just how I feel, and I want to get over it, but I can't."

There was another pause, and then, as if in a rage with himself, Gwyn burst out,--

"We're not babies just woke up in the dark, and ready to call for our mothers to help us."

"I called for mine to help me, though you could not hear," said Joe, simply; and his words sounded so strangely impressive that Gwyn uttered a sound like a gasp.

"What is there to be afraid of?" he cried passionately. "We ought to be savagely angry, and ready to feel that we could half kill that cowardly hound for forsaking us like this. I know what you feel, Joe; that we must hurry back as fast as we can to the foot of the shaft, and shout to them to haul us out."

"But do you really think Tom Dinass has sneaked away?"

"I'm sure he has, out of spite because he was forced to come; and when we got back he would be one of the first to grin and sneer at us. I want to run back as fast as I can, but you'll stand by me, won't you?"

"Of course I will."

"I know that, old chap. Well, what did we come for?"

"You know; to try and find them."

"Yes, and I'm getting better now. I couldn't help feeling scared. We're alone here, but we won't give up. We've got to find them somehow, and we will. I sha'n't turn back, for mother's sake. How could I go and tell her I came down to try and find them, and was afraid to go on in the dark!"

"Do you mean it?" said Joe, whose face was of a ghastly white.

"Yes; and you won't turn like you did on the ladder?"

"No."

"There was something to be afraid of then, but there isn't now."

"No," said Joe, with a gasp.

"We've got a light and can avoid any pit-holes; the water has all been pumped out, and there are only the pools we passed here and there. Nothing can hurt us here, for the roof won't fall; it's too strong, cut all through the rock as it is."

"Yes, but if we go on and lose ourselves as they have done--"

"Well, we must find our way again; and if we can't we must wait till somebody comes."

"Here! Alone?"

"We sha'n't be alone, because we're together."

"But do you think anyone would come?"

"Do you think all those men would stop hanging about the mouth, knowing we're lost, and not come and help us? I don't."

"No. Englishmen wouldn't do that," said Joe, slowly. "Let's go on. I'm not so scared now, but it is very horrible and lonely. Suppose the light went out."

"Well, we'd strike a match, and start another candle."

"Ah, you've got some matches then?"

"Yes; a whole box. No, I haven't; not one."

"Ydoll!" cried Joe in a despairing voice.

"But we've got plenty of candles, and we'll take care to keep them alight. Now then, if we stand still we shall lose heart again. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Come on, then;" and, setting his teeth and holding the lanthorn well above his eyes, Gwyn led the way further into the solemn darkness of the newly dried-out mine.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

REVERSAL OF POSITION.

The afternoon had glided by, and evening was approaching fast, as the men gathered about the mouth of the mine sat and chatted over the place and its prospects. Work had been suspended for the greater part of the day, to allow the owners to make an inspection, and the men held quite a discussion meeting as to how matters would prove.

Some were of opinion that they would have perhaps a few weeks' work, and then be dismissed; but among those who took the opposite view was Harry Vores, the miner who had behaved so well that day.

"I don't think it will be so," he said. "This is a gashly old mine; and depend upon it when it was worked they didn't get half out of it. I begin to think that we shall soon find a lot; more men will be wanted; and I hope it will be so, for the pluck these two gentlemen have shown. We want a few more good mines to be going in the country, for things have been bad enough lately."

Others took his side, and as the time went on and there was no signal from the bottom of the shaft, that was discussed as well.

"Oh, they'll be all right," said Harry Vores. "The place is bigger than we thought; but we ought to have known, seeing what a sight of water was pumped out. They've only gone farther than they expected, and we shall be having them all up in a bunch directly."

He had hardly uttered these words when the gong arranged for signalling gave three tings, and the engineer responded by standing by to hoist.

Another signal was sent up, and the wheel began to revolve, the wire rope tightened, and the empty skep descended.

"Won't bring 'em all up at once, will you, mate?" said Harry Vores.

"No; two lots," said the engineer; and the men all eagerly gathered round the place to see the explorers of a mine which had not been entered probably for hundreds of years when they came up, and to learn what report they would have to give of the prospects of the place.

The rope ran over the wheel almost silently, for the work had been well done; and as they were waiting, Grip, who had passed the greater part of his time watching the place where he had seen his master disappear, grew more and more excited. He kept on bursting into loud fits of barking till the ascending skep appeared, when he bounded away among the men, barking, snarling and growling savagely, for the only occupant of the skep was Dinass.