“I mean to; and I shall walk straight up to Cam Maen, and tell the Major what I think of him. I won’t have my father called a fool by a jolly old foot-soldier, and so I’ll tell him.”
“Yes, do,” said Joe. “He’s got a touch of fever this morning, and can’t help himself; so now’s your chance. But if you do go and worry him, you’ve got to have it out with me afterwards, and so I tell you.”
“Oh, have I? You want me to give you another good licking?”
“I don’t care if you do. I won’t stand still and have my father bullied by old Ydoll, Gwyn.”
Gwyn turned upon him fiercely, but the sight of his companion’s face calmed his anger on the instant.
“It’s all right, Joe,” he said; “I like to hear anyone sticking up for his father or his mother.”
“I haven’t got a mother to stick up for; but my father’s ill and weak, and if you—”
“Don’t I keep on telling you I’m not going, you stupid old Jolly-wet-’un. Come on. Didn’t we two say, after the last fight, when we shook hands, that we would never fight again?”
“Yes; then why do you begin it?”
“Who’s beginning it? Get out, and let’s go and have a look at the mine. Let’s stick to what we said: fight any of the fisher-lads, and help one another. Now, then, let’s go on to the old mine, and see if we can get down. Pst! here’s Hardock.”