"That makes the fourth," said Colonel Pendarve, tossing a letter across
to his son in the office one morning when the mine was in full work;
"four proposals from Mr Dix, and I have had three at intervals from
that other legal luminary, Brownson. Seven applications to buy the mine
in two years, Gwyn. Yes, it will be two years next week since we began
mining, and in those two years you and Joe Jollivet have grown to be
almost men--quite men in some respects, though you don't shave yet."
"Yes, I do, father," said Gwyn, smiling.
"Humph!" ejaculated the Colonel, "then it's an utter waste of time.
There, answer that letter and say emphatically No."
The Colonel left the office, and Gwyn read the letter.
"Look here, Joe," he said; and Joe Jollivet, who had climbed up to six
feet in the past two years, slowly rose from his table at the other side
of the office, unfolding himself, as it were, like a carpenter's
double-hinged rule, and crossed to where Gwyn was seated with his table
covered with correspondence.
Joe read the letter, and threw it back.
"Well," he said, "it's a pity they don't sell it; but it's the old
story: father says `No,' as he has started mining and it pays, he shall
go on, so that I may succeed him."
"And Colonel Pendarve, ex-officer of cavalry and now half-proprietor of
Ydoll Mine, says precisely the same on behalf of his fine, noble,
handsome son Gwyn. Look here, Joe, why don't you drop it, and swell out
the other way?"
"Going to begin that poor stuff again?" said Joe, sourly.
"You make me. I declare I believe you've grown another inch in the
night. What a jolly old cucumber you are! You'll have to go on your
knees next time you go down the mine."
"You answer your letter, and then I want to talk to you."
"What about?"
"I'll tell you directly you've written your letter. Get one piece of
business out of your way at a time."
"Dear me; how methodical we are," said Gwyn; but he began writing his
answer, while, instead of going back to his table, Joe crossed to the
hearthrug, where Grip was lying curled up asleep, and bending down
slowly he patted the dog's head and rubbed his ears, receiving an
intelligent look in return, while the curly feathery tail rapped the
rug.
"There you are, Mr Lawyer Dix, Esquire," said Gwyn, after dashing off
the reply; "now, don't bother us any more, for we are not going to
sell--Hi! Grip, old man, rabbits!"
The dog sprang to his feet uttered a sharp bark, and ran to the door
before realising that it meant nothing; and then, without the sign of a
limp, walked slowly back and lay down growling.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Gwyn; "says `You're not going to humbug me again like
that,' as plain as a dog can speak."
"Well, it's too bad," said Joe. "Think of the boy who cried `wolf.'
Some day when you want him he won't come."
"Oh, yes, he will; Grip knows me. Come here, old man."
The dog sprang to him, rose on his hind-legs, and put his fore-paws on
his master's hands.
"Only a game, was it, Grippy? You understand your master, don't you?"
The dog gave a joyous bark.
"There; says he does."
"Don't fool about, I want to talk to you," said Joe, sternly.
"All right, old lively. How was the governor this morning? You look as
if you'd taken some of his physic by mistake. Now, Grip, how are your
poor legs?"
"_Ahow-w-ow_!" howled the dog, throwing up his muzzle and making a most
dismal sound.
"Feel the change in the weather?"
A bark.
"Do you, now? But they are quite strong again, aren't they?"
"_How-how-ow-ow_" yelped the dog.
"Here, what made you begin talking about that?"
"What? His broken legs?"
"Yes."
"Pride, I suppose, in our cure. Or nonsense, just to tease the dog. He
always begins to howl when I talk about his legs. Don't you, Grip?
Poor old cripple, then."
"Ahow!" yelped the dog.
"Why did you ask?"
"Because it seemed curious. I say, Gwyn, I believe I did that man an
injustice."
"What man an injustice?" said Gwyn, who was pretending to tie the dog's
long silky ears in a knot across his eyes.
"Tom Dinass."
The dog bounded from where he stood on his hind-legs resting on his
master's knees, and burst into a furious fit of barking.
"Hark at him!" cried Gwyn. "Talk about dogs being intelligent animals?
It's wonderful. He never liked the fellow. Hi! Tom Dinass there. Did
he break your legs, Grip?"
The dog barked furiously, and ended with a savage growl.
"Just like we are," said Gwyn, "like some people, and hate others. I
begin to think you were right, Joe, and he did do it."
"Oh, no--impossible!"
"Well, it doesn't matter. He's gone."
"No, he has not," said Joe, quietly. "He has been hanging about here
ever since he left six months ago."
"What! I've never seen him."
"I have, and he has spoken to me over and over again."
"Why, you never told me."
"No, but I thought a good deal about it."
"What did he say to you?"
"That it was very hard for a man who had done his best for the mine to
be turned away all of a sudden just because Sam Hardock and the fellows
hated him."
"He wouldn't have been turned away for that. But as father said, when a
man strikes his superior officer he must be punished, or there would be
no discipline in a corps."
"I daresay Sam Hardock exasperated him first."
"Well, you often exasperate me, Jolly, but I don't take up a miner's
hammer and knock you down."
"No," said Joe, thinking in a pensive way; "you're a good patient
fellow. But he said it was very hard for a man to be thrown out of work
for six months for getting in a bit of temper."
"Bit of temper, indeed! I should think it was! I tell you it was
murderous! Why don't he go and get taken on at some other mine? There
are plenty in Cornwall, and he's a good workman. Let him go where he
isn't known, and not hang about here."
"He says he has tried, and he wants to come back."
"And you and me to put up a petition for him!"
"Yes, that's it."
"Then we just won't--will we, Grip? We don't want any Tom Dinass here,
do we?"
The dog growled furiously.
"Don't set the dog against him, Ydoll. I did accuse him of having done
that, but he looked at me in a horrified way, and said I couldn't know
what I was saying, to charge him with such a thing. He said he'd sooner
cut his hand off than injure a dog like that."
"And we don't believe him, do we, Grip? Why, you've quite changed your
colours, Jolly. You used to be all against him, and now you're all for,
and it's I who go against him."
"But you don't want to be unjust, Ydoll?"
"Not a bit of it. I'm going to be always as just as Justice. There,
let's get to work again. I've a lot of letters to write."
"One minute, Ydoll. I want you to oblige me in something."
"If it's to borrow tuppence, I can't."
"Don't be stupid. I've spoken to father about Tom Dinass."
The dog growled furiously.
"There, you've set him off. Quiet, sir!" cried Gwyn.
"It's your doing. You worry the dog into barking like that. But look
here; father said he did not like to see men idle, and that Dinass had
been well punished, and he would consent if the Colonel agreed. So I
want you to help me."
"I can't, Jolly, really."
"Yes you can, and you must," said Joe, glancing uneasily towards the
door. "For I told him he might come and see the Colonel; and if we ask
him, I'm sure he'll give way. Say you'll help me."
"I can't, old man."
"Yes, you can, and will. Let's be forgiving. I told him he might come
and see you and talk to you as he did to me, and it's just his time.
Yes; there he is."
For there was a step at the outside, and Joe went quickly to the door.
"Come in, Tom," said Joe.
The man, looking very much tattered and very humble, came in, hat in
hand.
"Mornin', sir," he said softly. Then his eyes seemed to lash fire, and
with a savage look he threw out his arms, for with one furious growl the
dog leaped at him, and fastened upon the roll of cotton neckerchief
which was wrapped about his throat.