ach
other.

"Made him a bit waxy," said the miner; "but he'll come round to my way
of thinking yet; and it strikes me that he'll be ordering me on to his
land again, when he knows all. I say, young Jollivet, mean to go down
to him to be thrashed with the young Colonel?"

"Oh, he wouldn't thrash me," said Joe, quietly. "I know the Colonel
better than that. I feel all stretched and aching like. I wish he
hadn't taken Gwyn home, though."

"I don't feel quite square myself, lad," said the mining captain; "but
you see if the Colonel don't go looking at the mine."

Hardock's prophecy was soon fulfilled, for that evening the Colonel was
rowing in his boat with his son, who had a mackerel line trailing
astern, and when they came opposite to the great buttress the Colonel
lay on his oars, and let his boat rise and fall on the clear swell.

"Now, then; whereabouts is the mouth of the adit?"

"I can't quite make it out from down here, father," replied Gwyn. "Yes
I can; there it is, only it doesn't look like an opening, only a dark
shadowy part of the cliff. No one could tell it was a passage in,
without being up there."

"Quite right; they could not," said the Colonel, thoughtfully. "And you
were drawn up from there, and right over the top of the cliff?"

"Yes, father."

"Horribly dangerous, boy--hideous. There, your mother knows something
about it, but she must never be shown how frightful a risk you ran.
Come, let's get back."

Gwyn only caught one fish that evening, and his father was very
thoughtful and quiet when they returned.

"Here, Gwyn," he said next morning; "come along with me, I want to have
a look at the old pit-shaft, and the bit of cliff over which you were
drawn."

"Yes, father," said Gwyn, and he led the way over their own ground; but
before they reached the dwarf mine wall, he was conscious of the fact
that they were observed; for, at the turn of the lane, Hardock's oilskin
cap could be seen as if the man were watching there, and the next moment
Joe Jollivet's straw hat was visible by his side.

Gwyn felt disposed to point out that they were not alone; but the next
moment his father began talking about the slow progress made by the belt
of pines he had planted between there and the house, so as to take off
something of the barrenness of the place.

"Want of shelter, Gwyn," he said; "the great winds from the west catch
them too much. I'm afraid they will always be stunted. Still, they