“Forsils,” said Hardock, glancing at a couple Vores had picked up.
“Nay, they aren’t stony shells,” said Vores. “I know; they used to eat ’em, and they’re some the old chaps as did the mining brought down for dinner.”
“Ready?” said Hardock.
“Ay, ay,” cried the men, who had made what children call a dandy chair with their hands, and supported the Colonel, whose arms were placed about their necks.
“Then as he says, and I wish I could hear him say it now, ‘Forward!’”
The men started, and Hardock turned to Vores.
“Seems like acting Tom Dinassy, my lad,” he said bitterly. “I don’t feel as if I could go.”
“Do you want to get up a row?” said Vores, sourly. “Be off and look after the guv’nor; don’t stop putting us chaps out of heart and making us think you jealous of me doing your work.”
Hardock held out his hand to his fellow-workman.
“Thank ye, my lad,” he said. “Go on, then, and take care. I’ve kept just enough candle to last us to the shaft foot; don’t go farther than you can find your way out.”