by
here when the men were all up, and the engine was stopped, and I heard a
yowling, and last of all made out that it was down the shaft here; and I
fetched Master Hardock and we got the engine started, and I went and
found the poor dog four steps down, just ready to lick my hand, but he
couldn't wag his tail, and that's what makes me think he's nipped."

But just then Grip moved his tail feebly, a mere ghost of a wag.

"There!" cried Hardock, triumphantly; "see that? Why, if he'd been
caught across the lines he'd have never wagged his tail again."

"Poor old Grip," said Gwyn, tenderly; "that must have been it. He tried
too much. Caught while coming up. Here, let's look at your paw."

The boy tenderly took hold of the dog's right paw, and he whined with
pain, but made no resistance, only looked appealingly at his masters to
let them examine the left leg.

"Oh, there's no doubt about it, Joe; both legs have been crushed."

Joe drew a low, hissing breath through his teeth.

"It's 'most a wonder as both legs warn't chopped right off," said Vores.
"Better for him, pore chap, if they had been."

"Hadn't we better put him out of his misery, sir?" said Hardock.

"Out of his misery!" cried Gwyn, indignantly. "I should like to put you
out of your misery."

"Nay, you don't mean that, sir," said the captain, with a chuckle.

"Kill my dog!" cried Gwyn.

"You'll take his legs right off, won't you, sir, with a sharp knife?"
said Vores.

"No, I won't," cried Gwyn, fiercely.

"Better for him, sir," said Vores. "They'd heal up then."

"But you can't give a dog a pair of wooden legs, matey," said Hardock,
solemnly. "If you cuts off his front legs, you'd have to cut off his
hind-legs to match. Well, he'd only be like one o' them turnspitty dogs
then; and it always seems to me a turnspitty to let such cripply things
live."

"We must take him home, Joe," said Gwyn, who did not seem to heed the
words uttered by the men.

"Yes," said Joe. "Poor old chap!" and he bent down to softly stroke the
dog's head.

"Better do it here, Master Gwyn," said Hardock. "We'll take him into
the engine-house to the wood block. I know where the chopper's kept."

"What!" cried Gwyn, in horror. "Oh, you wretch!"

"Nay, sir, not me. It's the kindest thing you can do to him. You
needn't come. Harry Vores'll hold him to the block, and I'll take off
all four legs clean at one stroke and make a neat job of it, so as the
wounds ca