Gwyn did not see Joe for a whole week, and he did not go over to the
mine, for the Colonel had called him into his room the next morning, and
had a very long, serious talk with him, and this was the end of his
lesson,--
"Of course, I meant you to go and read for the army, Gwyn, my lad, but
this mine has quite upset my plans, and I can't say yet what I shall do
about you. It will seem strange for one of our family to take to such a
life, but a man can do his duty in the great fight of life as well
whether he's a mine owner or a soldier. He has his men to keep in hand,
to win their confidence, and make them follow him, and to set them a
good example, Gwyn. But I can't say anything for certain. It's all a
speculation, and I never shut my eyes to the fact that it may turn out a
failure. If it does, we can go back to the old plans."
"Yes, father," said the boy, rather dolefully, for his father had
stopped as if waiting for him to speak.
"But if it turns out a successful, honest venture, you'll have to go on
with it, and be my right-hand man. You'll have to learn to manage,
therefore, better than ever I shall, for you'll begin young. So we'll
take up the study of it a bit, Gwyn, and you shall thoroughly learn what
is necessary in geology, and metallurgy and chemistry. If matters come
to the worst, you won't make any the worse officer for knowing such
matters as these. It's a fine thing, knowledge. Nobody can take that
away from you, and the more you use it the richer you get. It never
wastes."
"No, father," said Gwyn, who began to feel an intense desire now to go
on with his reading about the wars of Europe, and the various campaigns
of the British army, while the military text-book, which it had been his
father's delight to examine him in, suddenly seemed to have grown
anything but dry.
"Begin reading up about the various minerals that accompany tin ore in
quartz, for one thing, and we'll begin upon that text-book, dealing with
the various methods of smelting and reducing ores, especially those
portions about lead ore, and extracting the silver that is found with
it."
"Yes, father," said Gwyn, quietly; and the boy set his teeth, wrinkled
his brow, and looked hard, for Colonel Pendarve treated his son in a
very military fashion. He was kindness and gentleness itself, but his
laws were like those of the Medes and Persians done into plain English.
But the whole week had passed, and Mrs Pendarve took him to task one
morning.
"Come, Gwyn," she said, "I am quite sure your father does not wish you
to mope over your books, and give up going out to your old amusements."
"Doesn't he, mother?" said the boy, drearily.
"Of course not. What has become of Joe Jollivet? He has not been near
you."
"In the black books, too, I suppose," said Gwyn, bitterly. "Major's
been giving it to him."
"Gwyn, I will not have you talk like that," said his mother. "You boys
both deserve being taken to task for your reckless folly. You forget
entirely the agony you caused me when I heard of what had taken place."
"I didn't want to cause you agony, mother," pleaded the boy.
"I know that, my dear, but you have been growing far too reckless of
late. Now be sensible, and go on as if there had been no trouble
between your father and you. I wish it. Try and grasp the spirit in
which your father's reproofs were given."
"All right, mother, I will," said Gwyn; and his face brightened up once
more.
The consequence was that he went out into the yard, and unchained the
dog, with very great difficulty, for the poor beast was nearly mad with
excitement directly it realised the fact that it was going out with its
master for a run; and as soon as they entered the lane, set off straight
for the Major's gates, stopping every now and then to look round, and to
see if Gwyn was going there.
But half-way up the hill Gwyn turned off on to the rough granite
moorland, and Grip had to come back a hundred yards to the place where
his master had turned off, and dashed after him.
It didn't matter to the dog, for there was some imaginary thing to hunt
wherever they went; and as soon as he saw that he was on the right
track, he began hunting most perseveringly.
For Gwyn did not want to go to the Major's. He felt that he would like
to see Joe and have a good long talk with him, as well as compare notes;
but if he had gone to the house, he would have had to see the Major, and
that gentleman would doubtless have something to say that would not be
pleasant to him--perhaps blame him for Joe getting into difficulties.
No, he did not want to go to the Major's.
"Like having to take another dose," he said to himself, and he went on
toward the old circle of granite stones which had been set up some long
time back, before men began to write the history of their deeds.
It lay about a mile from the cove, high up on the windy common among the
furze bushes, and was a capital place for a good think. For you could
climb up on the top of the highest stone, look right out to sea, and
count the great vessels going up and down channel, far away on the
glittering waters--large liners which left behind them long, thin clouds
of smoke; stately ships with all sail set; trim yachts; and the
red-sailed fishing fleet returning from their cruise round the coast,
where the best places for shooting their nets were to be found.
It was quite a climb up to the old stones, which were not seen from that
side till you were close upon them, for they stood in a saucer-like
hollow in the highest part of the ridge, and beyond, there was one of
the deep gullies with which that part of Cornwall was scored--lovely
spots, along which short rivulets made their way from the high ground
down to the sea.
Grip knew well enough now where his master was making for, and dashed
forward as if certain that that mysterious object which he was always
hunting had hidden itself away among the stones, and soon after a
tremendous barking was heard.
"Rabbit," muttered Gwyn; and for a few moments he felt disposed to begin
running and join the dog in the chase. But he did not, for, in spite of
being out there on the breezy upland, where all was bright and sunny, he
felt dull and disheartened. Things were not as he could wish, for he
had just begun to feel old enough to bear upon the rein when it was
drawn tight, and to long to have the bit in his teeth and do what he
liked. The Colonel had been pleasant enough that morning, but he had
not invited him to go to the mine; and it felt like a want of trust in
him.
So Gwyn felt in no humour for sport of any kind; he did not care to look
out at the ships, and speculate upon what port they were bound for; he
picked up no stones to send spinning at the grey gulls; did not see that
the gorse was wonderfully full of flower; and did not even smell the
wild thyme as he crushed it beneath his feet. There were hundreds of
tiny blue and copper butterflies flitting about, and a great hawk was
havering overhead; but everything seemed as if his mind was out of taste
and the objects he generally loved were flavourless.
All he felt disposed to do was to turn himself into a young modern
ascetic, prick his legs well in going through the furze, and then take a
little bark off his shins in climbing twenty feet up on to the great
monolith, and there sit and grump.
"Bother the dog, what a row he's making!" he muttered. "I wish I hadn't
brought him."
Then his lips parted to shout to Grip to be quiet, but he did not utter
the words, for he stopped short just as he neared the first stone of the
circle, on hearing the dog begin to bark furiously again, and a savage
voice roar loudly,--
"Get out, or I'll crush your head with this stone!"