“You, then?” cried Hardock, turning to Joe, who coloured like a girl.
“Ah, well, we won’t quarrel now you have come, my lads: but the Colonel made my ears sing a bit the other day for not looking more sharply after you both. Well, aren’t you going to ask how the mine is?”
“Yes,” said Gwyn, glad to change the subject. “Got all the water out?”
“Nay, my lad, nor nothing like all.”
“Then you never will,” said Joe. “Depend upon it, there’s a way in somewhere from the sea, and that’s why the old place was forsaken.”
“Sounds reasonable,” said Hardock, “’specially as the bits of ore we’ve come across are so rich.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said Gwyn. “What a pity, though. How far have you got down?”
“Oh, a long way, my lad, and laid open the mouths of two galleries. Wonderful sight of water we’ve pumped out. Don’t seem to get much farther now.”
“No, and you never will,” said Joe again, excitedly. “I’m sorry, though. Father will be so disappointed.”
“What makes you say that there’s a way in from the sea?” said Hardock, quietly.