Sappers and Miners Part 17

"Oh, yes, I've no doubt about that," said the Major, "and if you really do make up your mind to venture, I don't say that I will not lend you some money if you need it."

"Thank you, I know that you would, Jollivet; but I don't want to take it in that way. Think it over for a few days, and see how you feel about it."

"No, I can give you my answer now without any hesitation. It is quite out of the question, Pendarve. Even if it were a gold mine, I should say--"

"Don't decide rashly, old fellow," said the Colonel. "A few days ago I should have answered you in the same way, if you had come and proposed the thing; but since I have thought it over, I have quite changed my mind. Do the same, and let me hear how you have concluded to act at the end of a week."

"But I tell you, my dear sir--"

"Yes; tell me at the end of a week," said the Colonel, smiling. "What do you think of these fellows beginning to investigate the mine for themselves? There, Gwyn, you need not stay for me if you want a run with Joe: I'll walk home alone."

"Father is not well enough to be left," said Joe.

"Yes, yes, my boy," cried the Major; "I don't want to make a prisoner of you. Go and have a run with Gwyn, by all means."

The boys required no second permission, but were off at once, their fathers hearing the beat of their feet on the road directly after.

"Where have they gone?" said the Major, turning on his couch.

"Over to the mouth of the mine, for certain," said the Colonel.

He was quite right. There was no proposal made by either of the boys, but as soon as they were outside the gate, they started off together at a rapid trot, making straight for the Colonel's land, springing over the stone-wall, and threading their way amongst stones and bushes, till they were compelled by the rough ground to go more slowly.

"Makes one want to see more of what it's like," said Joe.

"Yes; I didn't know father was thinking about it so seriously. Why, it'll be splendid, Joe. I say; you'll have to go down the mine first this time."

"Yes, I suppose so, but not your way."

"Hist!" whispered Gwyn, as they drew near. "What does that mean?"

"What? I don't see anything."

Gwyn ducked down behind one of the great, grey weathered lumps of granite, and signed to his companion to follow his example.

This was done on the instant, and then Joe looked inquiringly in his face.

"Something wrong," whispered Gwyn. "Trespa.s.sers. Got to know that father means to work the mine."

Gwyn raised his head slowly, so as to peer over the block of granite, and plainly made out a hand and arm working about at the side of the low protection wall of the old mine.

"Sam Hardock," whispered Joe, who had followed his example. "What's he doing? Measuring the depth?"

"'Tisn't Sam," whispered Gwyn, "it's someone else--stranger, I think.

Then the mine must be valuable or he wouldn't be there. What shall we do?"

"He has no business there. It's on your father's property, perhaps it'll be ours, too," whispered Joe. "I say, Ydoll, we're not going to stand that; let's go and collar him."

"Agreed!" said Gwyn, excitedly. "We've right on our side. Come on."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

FIGHTING THE ENEMY.

Gwyn Pendarve's "Come on!" was loyally responded to by Joe Jollivet, and the two lads made a hurried charge down the slope at the interloper so busy about the old mine-shaft.

Now, if you take two dogs out for a walk in the country, unless they are particularly well-behaved, spiritless animals, as soon as they see sheep, cow, or bullock grazing, they will make a furious dash, and if the grazing creature runs, they will have a most enjoyable hunt. But if the quarry stands fast and makes a show of attacking in turn, the probabilities are that the dogs will slacken speed, stop short a few yards away, give vent to their opinions upon the unnatural behaviour of the animal in barks, lower their triumphantly waving tails, and come back at a gentle trot, stopping at times, though, to turn their heads and make a few more remarks in dog language.

Truth to tell, when Gwyn and Joe made their charge, they fully expected to see the man leaning over the old wall start off and run; but, as it happened, he did not, but stood up, turned, and faced them, looking a big, sour-faced, truculent fellow, who scowled at them and stood his ground.

Whatever their inclinations might have been for the moment, not being dogs, and each having his prestige to keep up in his companion's eyes, Gwyn and Joe certainly stopped; but they did not turn, but stood firm, noting that the man had a large reel of sea-fishing line evidently of goodly length.

"Hullo!" he said, hoa.r.s.ely. "What's for you?"

"What are you doing here?" cried Gwyn.

"What's that to you?"

"Everything. Do you know you are trespa.s.sing?"

"No. Am I?"

"Yes, of course."

"Thank ye for telling me. Good-morning."

Gwyn stared, and then looked at Joe.

For, instead of going at once, the man turned his back and drew upon his line, whose end--evidently weighted--was hanging down the shaft; but instead of continuing to draw it out, he let it run down again rapidly from a reel.

"Here, stop that," cried Gwyn. "What are you doing?"

The man turned upon them, scowling.

"Hullo!" he said; "aren't you gone? What are you waiting for?"

"To know what you're doing on our property."

"Your property!" said the man, scornfully. "Can't you see what I'm doing? Fishing."

"Fishing?" cried Joe, who felt staggered, and began wondering whether there might be any underground communication with the sea, through which some of the huge eels of the rocky cove might have made their way.

"Yes, fishing," growled the man. "Don't make that row, because I've got one at me. Be off!"

"Nonsense!" cried Gwyn, sharply. "There are no fish there."

"How do you know, youngster?" said the man. "Ever tried?"