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. "Trespassers. 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