Chapter Thirty One.
Gwyn gives it up.
There came a dull sound out of the darkness, as if Joe had struck against the wall of the mine; but he gave vent to no exclamation, and Gwyn cried to him to stop.
“Where are you? Don’t run off like that, Joe!—Joe! Where are you?”
“Here,” said the lad, hoarsely. “What is it? What has hurt you?”
“Hurt me? I thought something had hurt you. What made you rush off?”
“You shouted. What was it?”
“Enough to make me shout. Where are you?”