“Why, Sep, Uggleston!” he exclaimed; “you here?”
“Why, father!” I cried, catching him by the arm. “I thought you had gone.”
“The pony broke down, my boy,” said my father, “and I have had to bring him back here—walking all the way; and I was undecided as to whether I should pay someone to take him home, or lead him myself, and make a fresh start to-morrow.”
“Come back,” I said with a look full of delight. “He ought to come back, eh, Big?”
Bigley nodded and smiled, and then I eagerly told him all.
“It was Bigley’s doing, father,” I exclaimed. “He found it out.”
“My lad,” said my father huskily, “you have saved me, for I could only have sold my property at a terrible loss.”
“And you will come back with us, father,” I said.
“Come back, my boy? Of course. Why, Bigley, my lad, you have always looked at me as if I felt a grudge against you for being your father’s son; now, my boy, I shall always have to look at you as a benefactor, who has saved me from ruin.”
Bigley tried to say something about that dreadful night, and the attack on the mine premises, but my father stopped him.