“Where are you going to get your clay, mate?” said Bob Bacon.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the man. “Never mind the clay. You can make baskets.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” growled Bob.
“Not much, but pull out your knife and find a good soft bit of wood that you can turn into a peg.”
This was soon done, and laying the string fuse a little way along the cement floor, Dan declared the mine to be ready.
“Only wants everybody to stand clear, gentlemen,” said the little fellow, “and somebody to go down with a match, and then run. Then up she goes; and that’s my job.”
“Oh, I’ll do that,” cried Mark, and he pulled out a little silver box of matches that he had in his pocket.
“Steady, Mr Mark, sir—steady!” cried the little fellow.
“Clear out, everybody!” cried Mark.
The doctor opened his lips to speak angrily, but on second thoughts he followed those who were in the hole and had begun making for a safe distance from the explosion that was to come.