“Only just a word or two, Mr Gwyn, sir,” said the man in a humble manner, which accorded badly with his fierce, truculent appearance; and for the moment the lad addressed thought that he meant treachery, and he, Joe, could not help glancing at the precipice so close at hand. “You see, I’m an unlucky sort of fellow, and somehow make people think wrong things about me. You and me got wrong first time you see me; but I didn’t mean no harm, and things got better till the other day over the bit o’ fuss about going down.”
“When you behaved like a cur and left us to take our chance. Quiet, Grip?”
“Look at that now!” cried Dinass, appealing to nobody—“even him turning again’ me. Why, I ought to say as you two young gents went and forsook me down the old pit. Sure as goodness, I thought you both did it as a lark. Why, it warn’t in me to do such a thing; and if you’d only waited a few minutes till I’d got my candle right, I’d perhaps ha’ been able to save you from being lost. Anyhow I would ha’ tried.”
“Do you expect us to believe that you did not sneak back and leave us?” said Gwyn.
“Well, as young gents, I do hope you will, sir. Why, I’d sooner have cut my head off than do such a thing. Forsake yer! Why I was half mad when I found you’d gone on, and I run and shouted here and there till I was hoarse as a crow; and when I found I was reg’lar lost there, I can’t tell you what I felt. That’s a true word, sir; I never was so scared in my life.”
“Ah, well, perhaps we’d better say no more about it, Dinass.”
“Tom Dinass, sir. Don’t speak as if you was out with me, too.”
“We both thought you had left us in the lurch; but if you say you did not, why, we are, bound to believe you.”
“Bah!” said Grip, in a growl full of disgust.
“Quiet, sir!”