Breakfast ended, Gwyn went straight off to the yard with half a fish and
some bread; but before he came in sight, there was the rattle of a
chain, a burst of barking, and a handsome collie dog, with long silky
ears and a magnificent frill of thick hair about his neck, stood upon
hind-legs at the full extent of the chain, and tried hard to strangle
himself with his collar.
Then there was a burst of frantic yelps and whines, a kind of dance was
performed as the boy approached with the dog's breakfast, and then there
was peace over the devouring of the bread, which was eaten in bits
thrown at him from a couple of yards away, and caught without fail.
After this performance the fish was placed in a pan; and as the dog bent
down to eat, Gwyn pulled his ears, thumped his back, sat astride it and
talked to the animal.
"You're going to be shot at if you go into the garden again, Grip; so
look out, old chap. Do you hear?"
The dog was too busy over the fish, but wagged his tail.
"I'm to keep you chained up more, but we'll have some games over the
moor yet--rabbits!"
The fish was forgotten, and the dog threw up his head and barked.
"There, go on with your breakfast, stupid! I'm off."
"How-ow!" whined the dog, dismally, and he kept it up, straining at his
chain till the boy was out of sight, when the animal stood with an ear
cocked up and his head on one side, listening intently till the steps
died out, before resuming his breakfast of fish.
Gwyn was off back to the house, where he fetched his basket from the
larder and carried it into the hall.
"Here, father--mother--come and have a look!" he cried; and upon their
joining him, he began to spread out his catch, so as to have an
exhibition of the silvery bass--the brilliant, salmon-shaped fish whose
sharp back fins proved to a certainty that they were a kind of sea
perch.
They were duly examined and praised: and when they had been divided into
presents for their neighbours in the little Cornish fishing port, the
Colonel, who had, after long and arduous service in the East, hung up
his sword to take to spade and trowel, went off to see to his
nectarines, peaches, pears, grapes and figs in his well-walled garden
facing the south, and running down to the rocky shores of the safe inlet
of Ydoll Brea, his son Gwyn following to help--so it was called.
The boy, a sturdy, frank-looking lad, helped his father a great deal in
the garden, but not after the ordinary working fashion. That fell to
the lot of Ebenezer Gelch, a one-eyed Cornishman, who was strangely
imbued with the belief that he was the finest gardener in the West of
England, and held up his head very high in consequence. Gwyn helped his
father, as he did that morning, by following him out into the sunny
slope, and keeping close behind.
The Colonel stopped before a carefully-trained tree, where the great
pears hung down from a trellis erected against the hot granite rock, and
stood admiring them.
"Nearly ripe, father?" asked Gwyn.
"No, my boy, not nearly," said the Colonel, softly raising one in his
hand. "They may hang more than a month yet. We shall beat the Jersey
folk this year."
"Yes, father," said Gwyn, and he followed to where the Colonel stopped
before a peach tree, and stooped to pick up a downy red-cheeked fellow
which had fallen during the night.
"Not fully grown, Gwyn, but it's a very fine one," said the Colonel.
"Yes father--a beauty. Shall I take it in?"
"No, not good enough. Eat it, my boy."
Gwyn did not need any further telling, and the peach disappeared, the
stone being sent flying into the sea.
A little farther on, a golden tawny Jefferson plum was taken from a
tree, for the wasps had carved a little hole in the side, and this was
handed to the boy and eaten. A nectarine which had begun to shrink came
next; and from the hottest corner of the garden a good-tempered looking
fig, which seemed to have opened a laughing mouth as if full, and
rejoicing in its ripeness. After this a rosy apple or two and several
Bon Chretien pears, richly yellow, were picked up and transferred to the
boy's pocket, and the garden was made tidy once more, evidently to the
owner's satisfaction. Certainly to that of his son, who was most
diligent in disposing of the fruit in this way.
Then the Colonel sauntered into the little sloping vinery where the
purple and amber grapes were hanging, and Gwyn thrust in his head; but
as there were no berries to be eaten, and it was very hot, he drew back
and went up the slope toward the wall at the top, carefully peeling one
of the pears with a fishy pocket-knife.
He was in the act of throwing a long curl of peel over the wall when a
sun-browned face appeared as if on purpose to receive it, and started
back. Then there was a scrambling noise from the other side, as the
face disappeared very suddenly, and Gwyn burst out laughing.
"Hurt yourself?" he cried.
There was the sound of scrambling, and the face re-appeared.
"What did you do that for?" cried the owner.
"To get rid of the peel, stupid."
"Well, you might have chucked a pear instead."
"All right--catch."
A pear was thrown, dexterously caught, and the newcomer immediately took
a magnificent bite out of it.
"Oh! beauty!" he cried; and then, as he began to munch, he glanced down
at the pit he had excavated with his keen teeth right to the core. "Er!
Yah!" he cried, spitting out the piece. "Why, it's all maggoty!" and
he threw the pear back with excellent aim; but it was deftly caught, and
returned in a way that would have won praise at cricket. Joe's aim was
excellent, too; but when a boy is supporting himself by resting his
elbows on the coping of a high stone-wall, he is in no position for
fielding either a pear or a ball. So the pear struck him full on the
front of the straw hat he wore, and down he went with a rush, while Gwyn
ran to the front of the wall, climbed up quickly, and looked over into
the lane, laughing boisterously.
"Got it that time, Joey," he cried.
"All right, I'll serve you out for it. Give us another pear."
The request was attended to, the fruit being hurled down, but it was
cleverly caught.
"Why this is maggoty, too."
"Well, I didn't put the maggots there; cut the bad out. The dropped
ones are all like that."
"Go and pick me a fresh one, then."
"Not ripe, and father does not like me to pick them. That's a beauty."
"Humph--'tain't bad. But I say, come on."
"What are you going to do?"
"Do?--why, didn't you say we'd go and have a good look at the old mine?"
"Oh, ah; so I did. I forgot."
"Come on, then. Old Hardock made my mouth water talking about it as he
did this morning."
"But we should want a rope, shouldn't we?"
"Yes. Let's get Jem Trevor to lend us one out of his boat."
"All right. I'll come round."
"Why not jump down?"
Gwyn gave a sharp look up and down the lane, but no one was in sight,
and he lightly threw his legs over, and dropped down beside his
companion.
"Don't want any of the boys to see that there's a way over here," he
said, "or we shall be having thieves. I say, Joe, father's been talking
about the old mine at breakfast."
"Then you told him what Captain Hardock said. I told my father, too."
"What did he say?"
Joe Jollivet laughed.
"Well, what are you grinning at? Why don't you speak?"
"Because you're such a peppery chap, and I don't want a row."
"Who's going to make a row? What did the Major say?"
"Sha'n't tell you."
"Who wants you to? It was something disrespectful of my father, and he
has no business to. My father's his superior officer."
"That he isn't. Your father was cavalry, and my father foot."
"And that makes it worse," said Gwyn, hotly. "Cavalry's higher than
infantry, and a major isn't so high as a colonel.--What did he say?"
"Oh, never mind. Come on."
"I know what he said; and it's just like the Major. Just because his
wounds come out bad sometimes, he thinks he has a right to say what he
likes. I believe he said my father was a fool."
"That he didn't," cried Joe, sharply; "he said he'd be a fool, if he put
any money in a mine."
"There, I knew it, and it's regularly insulting," cried Gwyn, with his
face flushing and eyes sparkling. "I shall just go and tell Major
Jollivet that my father--"
"Oh, I say, what a chap you are!" cried Joe, wrinkling up his rather
plump face. "You're never happy without you're making a row about
something. Why don't you punch my head?"
"I would for two pins."
"There, that's more like you. What have I done? I didn't say it."
"No, but your father did, and it's all the same."
"Oh! is it? I don't see that. I couldn't help it."
"Yes, you could. It all came of your chattering. See if I go fishing
with you again!"
"Go it!"
"I mean to; and I shall walk straight up to Cam Maen, and tell the Major
what I think of him. I won't have my father called a fool by a jolly
old foot-soldier, and so I'll tell him."
"Yes, do," said Joe. "He's got a touch of fever this morning, and can't
help himself; so now's your chance. But if you do go and worry him,
you've got to have it out with me afterwards, and so I tell you."
"Oh, have I? You want me to give you another good licking?"
"I don't care if you do. I won't stand still and have my father bullied
by old Ydoll, Gwyn."
Gwyn turned upon him fiercely, but the sight of his companion's face
calmed his anger on the instant.
"It's all right, Joe," he said; "I like to hear anyone sticking up for
his father or his mother."
"I haven't got a mother to stick up for; but my father's ill and weak,
and if you--"
"Don't I keep on telling you I'm not going, you stupid old
Jolly-wet-'un. Come on. Didn't we two say, after the last fight, when
we shook hands, that we would never fight again?"
"Yes; then why do you begin it?"
"Who's beginning it? Get out, and let's go and have a look at the mine.
Let's stick to what we said: fight any of the fisher-lads, and help one
another. Now, then, let's go on to the old mine, and see if we can get
down. Pst! here's Hardock."
For at the corner of the stone-walled lane, whose left side skirted the
Colonel's property, which extended for half-a-mile along by the sea, the
estate having been bought a bargain for the simple reason that its many
acres grew scarcely anything but furze, heather and rag-wort, the rest
being bare, storm-weathered granite, they came suddenly upon a
dry-looking brown-faced man with a coil of rope worn across his chest
like an Alpine guide.
He was seated on the low wall dotted with pink stone-crop and golden and
grey lichens, chewing something, the brown stain at the corner of his
lips suggesting that the something was tobacco; and he turned his head
slowly toward them, and spoke in a harsh grating voice, as they came up.
"Going to the old mine?" he said. "I thought you would, after what I
told you this morning. I'll go with you."
"Did you bring that rope on purpose?" said Gwyn, quickly.
"O' course, my son. You couldn't look at the gashly place without."
Gwyn glanced at Joe, and the latter laughed, while the mining captain
displayed his brown teeth.
"Right, aren't it?" he said. "Didn't tell the Colonel what I said, I
s'pose?"
"Yes, I did," cried Gwyn; "and he as good as said it was all nonsense."
"Maybe it be, and maybe it ban't," said the man, quietly. "You two come
along with me and have a look. I've brought a hammer with me, too; and
I say, let's chip off a bit or two of the stuff, and see what it's like.
If it's good, your father may like to work it. If it's poor, we
sha'n't be no worse off than we was before, shall we?"
"No, of course not," said Gwyn, "what do you say, Joe--shall we go?"
"Of course," was the reply; and they trudged on together for about a
hundred yards, and then climbed over the loose stone-wall, and then up a
rugged slope dotted with gigantic fragments of granite. A stone's throw
or so on their left was the edge of the uneven cliff, which went down
sheer to the sea; and all about them the great masses towered up, and
their path lay anywhere in and out among tall rocks wreathed with
bramble and made difficult with gorse.
But they were used to such scrambles, and, the mining captain leading,
they struggled on with the gulls floating overhead, starting a cormorant
from his perch, and sending a couple of red-legged choughs dashing over
the rough edge to seek refuge among the rocks on the face of the cliff.
It was a glorious morning, the sea of a rich bright blue, and here and
there silvery patches told where some shoal of fish was playing at the
surface or demolishing fry.
There was not a house to be seen, and the place was wild and chaotic in
the extreme, but no one alluded to its ruggedness, all being intent upon
the object of their quest, which they soon after came upon in the upper
part of a deep gully, on one side of which there was a rough
quadrangular wall of piled-up stones, looking like the foundations of a
hut which had fallen to ruin; and here they paused.
"Now, look here," said the man; "that place don't look anything; but
your father, young Pendarve, has got a fortune in it, and I want to see
what it's like. So what do you say to going down with my hammer and
bringing up a few chips?"
"Why don't you go?" said Gwyn.
"'Cause you two couldn't pull me up again. It's a job for a boy."
"Then let's send down Joe Jollivet. He isn't worth much if we lose
him."
"Oh, I say," began the boy in dismay; but he read the twinkle in his
companion's eye, and laughed.
"I wouldn't mind going down. Is the rope strong?"
"Strong?" said the mining captain. "Think I should have brought it if
it warn't? Hold a schooner."
"Shall I go down, Gwyn?"
The lad addressed did not answer for a few moments, but stood leaning
over the rocky wall, gazing down into a square pit cut through the
stone, the wall having been placed there for protection in case four or
two-legged creatures passed that way.
"But look here," said Joe; "would it be safe?"
"Safe, lad? Do you think I'd let you go if it warn't? How could I face
all your fathers and mothers after?"
"But are you sure you could hold me if I went," said Joe, who began to
look anxious.
"Feel here," said the man, rolling up his sleeves. "There's muscle!
There's bone! That's something like a man's arm, aren't it? Hold you?
Half-a-dozen on you. Man either."
Joe drew a deep sigh.
"I'll go," he said.
"No, you won't," cried Gwyn, fiercely. "It's my father's place, and I
ought to go."
"But I wouldn't mind, Ydoll," said Joe, excitedly.
"I know that, but I'll go first, and you help Sam Hardock."
"Ay, you help me, my lad. I know'd he'd have the pluck to go down."
"You're sure of the rope, Sam?"
"Sure? There, don't you go down if you're afraid."
"Who feels afraid?" cried Gwyn, hotly. "There, how's it to be? Throw
the rope down and slide?"
"No, no," growled the man.
"Loop and sit in it?"
"Nay; I'm too fearful over you, my lad. But do you mean it?"
"Mean it? Yes, of course," said the boy, flushing.
"Then, here you have it. I just make a knot like this about your
chesty, so as it don't grow tight and can't slip. That's your sort.
How's that?"
As he spoke, he quickly fastened the end of the rope about the boy's
breast, tested the knot and then lifted Gwyn by it.
"Now, if you stick the hammer in your waistband, and have hold of the
rope above your head with one hand to ease the strain, you'll go down
like a cork, only keep yourself clear of the side."
"Mind and don't turn and roast, Ydoll," cried Joe; "but you'd better let
me go."
"Next time. Ready?" said Gwyn.
"Ay."
"Then over I go."
As if fearing to hesitate, the boy got over the low wall and stood on
the narrow edge of the old, crumbling, fern-hung shaft, and the next
moment he was being lowered down, Joe turning a little faint from
excitement as the upturned face disappeared, and he watched the rope
glide through the man's bony hands.
"How far are you going to let him down?" he said, anxiously.
"Far as he likes, my lad. Till he comes to paying ore. You see that
the rings o' rope run clear, and keep it right for me to run out. He's
tidy heavy for such a little 'un, though."
Joe seized the coil, and made the rope run free, keeping spasmodically a
tight hold of it the while, in case the man should let it slip.
And so some sixty feet were allowed to run out, with Gwyn keeping on
cheerily shouting, "All right!" from time to time.
It was instantaneous.
Suddenly the mining captain started back and blundered against Joe,
completely knocking him over. A wild shriek arose from the old shaft,
sounding hollow, awful and strange, and the rope, which had either
parted or come undone from the boy's chest, was swinging slackly to and
fro in the great black pit.