“Here, I can’t make it out now,” he said at last.
“Of course you can’t, my lad; it’s all wrong.”
“But if it is, there will be a terrible loss.”
“To be sure there will.”
“Let’s go and talk to my father about it.”
“Or mine,” said Joe.
“Our place is nearest, or perhaps father’s in the office,” cried Gwyn, excitedly. “Mind, I don’t say you’re right, because I seemed to see it all so clearly, though it has all turned misty and stupid like now.”
“I know how it was,” said Joe. “Sam Hardock had got the idea in his head, and he explained it all so that it seemed right; but it isn’t, and the more I think about it, the more I wonder that no one saw what a muddle it was before.”
“Gammon!” cried Gwyn, springing up, and the two lads started back toward the mine; but they were not destined to reach it then, for they had not gone above a hundred yards along by the edge of the cliff, when they came upon Dinass seated with his back to a rock, smoking his pipe and gazing out to sea between his half-closed eyelids.
“Hallo!” shouted Gwyn; “what are you doing here?”