“Who wants you to chuck away your life? Go on down, like a man,” said the engineer.
“You go yourself; I’ll take care of the engines,” cried Dinass.
“That will do,” said Gwyn, quietly. “Let us have candles, please, quick.”
“Oh, you’re not going down alone, young gen’lemen,” said the man at the doorway who had spoken the most. “Some on us’ll go with you if he won’t, but the guv’nors made him second like to Master Hardock, and he ought to go, and he will, too, or we’ll make him.”
“Oh, will you?” cried Dinass, fiercely; “and how will you make me?”
“Why, if you don’t go down like a man along with the young masters, we’ll tie you neck and crop, and stuff you in the skep, and two more of us’ll come, too, and make you go first. What do you say to that?”
“Say you daren’t,” cried Dinass.
“What do you say, lads?” cried the man.
“Oh, we’ll make him go,” came in chorus.
By this time, as Dinass stood there angry and defiant, the engineer had produced a candle-box and lit a couple of lanthorns, when Gwyn and Joe each took one, and stepped into the empty skep, followed by Grip, who curled up by their feet.