“Strong?” said the mining captain. “Think I should have brought it if it warn’t? Hold a schooner.”
“Shall I go down, Gwyn?”
The lad addressed did not answer for a few moments, but stood leaning over the rocky wall, gazing down into a square pit cut through the stone, the wall having been placed there for protection in case four or two-legged creatures passed that way.
“But look here,” said Joe; “would it be safe?”
“Safe, lad? Do you think I’d let you go if it warn’t? How could I face all your fathers and mothers after?”
“But are you sure you could hold me if I went,” said Joe, who began to look anxious.
“Feel here,” said the man, rolling up his sleeves. “There’s muscle! There’s bone! That’s something like a man’s arm, aren’t it? Hold you? Half-a-dozen on you. Man either.”
Joe drew a deep sigh.
“I’ll go,” he said.
“No, you won’t,” cried Gwyn, fiercely. “It’s my father’s place, and I ought to go.”