n 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.