Mr Temple did not answer for a few moments, and then he replied in the same low tone as that in which his son had asked the question.
“For shame, Dick!” he said softly.
That was all.
Dick felt it as a severe rebuke, and did not speak for a minute or two as they went on winding in and out among the rocks, with the roof rapidly curving down, and the floor, which was sandy no longer, seeming to rise as the sides of the cave contracted and the travelling had become an awkward climb.
“I don’t believe any of that stuff, father,” said Dick softly.
“That’s right,” replied Mr Temple. “Hah: yes!” he said holding the lantern so that the light shone on the roof—“tin!”
“Tin, father?” cried Dick joyfully. “Have you found tin?”
“Yes, but too poor to be worth working;” and Mr Temple went on a little, and stopped to chip the side with his hammer. “Traces of copper here,” he said. “Look: peacock ore; very pretty to look at, but ruinous to work, Dick. Ah! we seem to be coming to the end now.”
“Would seals be likely to live in a cave like this?” said Dick.
“I should think not,” replied Mr Temple. “The entrance is not near enough to the water. I think they like a place where they can swim right in and out at all times of the tide.”