“Then you may go up and tell your father the good news. He’ll like to hear it from you. Tell him that we’ve lowered the water seven inches since the pump started, and if nothing goes wrong, we shall soon be making a stage lower down.”
“But what should go wrong?” cried Joe, who looked full of excitement.
“A hundred things, my lad. Machinery’s a ticklish thing, and as for a mine, you never know what’s going to happen from one hour to another. Go on, up with you both, my lads; it’s news they’ll be glad to hear, and you ought to be proud to take it.”
“We are,” cried Gwyn, heartily. “It’s splendid, Sam. You have done well.”
“Tidy, my lad, tidy. Will you go up the ladder here?”
“No,” said Gwyn, “we’ve left our shoes and stockings outside.”
“Very well; go that way, then.”
“Yes,” said Joe, “it’s better than going up the shaft; the ladders look so wet, and the water drops upon you. I saw it dripping yesterday. Come on.”
He stepped into the adit, and Gwyn followed.
“Don’t want a light, I s’pose?” said Hardock.