I sat on the edge looking down at the ivy, and toad-flax, and saxifrage, and ferns that climbed and clustered all over the steep cliff-face; and as I sat looking and enjoying the sea-breeze and the rest from all school labours, old Sam went on cleaning out the guns and expressing in his way the feelings of nearly everybody round the coast.
“Is my father over at the mine?” I said.
“Ay, my lad; he’s always there. Going over?”
“Yes, Sam, when I’m rested. They’re very busy now, I suppose.”
“Wonderful, Master Sep, wonderful. Who’d ha’ thought it?” he exclaimed, sticking the mop handle on the path and resting his bare brown arms upon the wet woollen rags that formed the top.
“Who’d have thought what, Sam?”
“Why, as there’d be lead and silver under they slates down at the Gap. Always looked to be nothin’ but clatter, and old massy rock and no soil.”
“Ah, it was a discovery, Sam,” I said.
“Discovery, my lad! Why, when they said as the Captain had bought the old place I went into my tool-shed and sat down on a ’tater heap and ’most cried.”
“’Most cried, Sam—you?”