“No, my lad; that was the time, and quite long enough, too; but I’m afraid it would have been twice as long if it hadn’t been for this dog. It was a fine idea to send him down to try and find you.”
“A splendid idea! Who’s was it?”
“Oh, never mind about that,” said Hardock, stooping down to pat the dog in the most friendly way. “Someone said after we’d got back along of your father, Mr Gwyn, that the dog was more likely to find you than anyone; but just then the Colonel ordered a fresh search, and a party went down, and then another, and another, for there was no stopping; they hunted for you well. But at last him who proposed the dog said he was sure that was the way to go to work; and then at last the Colonel says, ‘Well, Hardock,’ he says, ‘I believe you’re right. Try the dog!’”
“Then it was you who proposed it,” said Gwyn, catching the miner’s arm.
“Me? Was it? Well, perhaps it was,” said Hardock; “but lor’ a mussy, I was all in such a flurry over the business I don’t half recollect. Sort o’ idee it was Harry Vores. Maybe it was.”
“No, it wasn’t,” said Gwyn; “I’m sure it was you, Sam. Now, wasn’t it?”
He caught the man’s hand in his, and there was a dim look in his eyes which went straight to the miner’s heart, and he said huskily—
“Well, s’pose it was, Master Gwyn, wouldn’t you ha’ been ready to jump at anything as a last sort o’ chance, when there was two lads lost away down in a place like that? Why, I’d ha’ done anything, let alone depending on a dog. It warn’t as if I didn’t want to go myself: I did go till I dropped and couldn’t do no more, and begun to wish I’d never said a word about the gashly old mine.”
“Well, don’t go on like that,” cried Gwyn, laughing, as he warmly shook the mine captain’s hand, while Joe caught hold of the other and held on.
“Here, hi, don’t you two go on like that,” cried the man; “what’s the good o’ making such a fuss. It was the dog saved your lives, not me, my lads; and do leave off, please. You’re making me feel like a fool.”