They were busy days there, and Gwyn and his companion found little time for their old pursuits—egging, rabbiting and fishing—save occasionally when, by way of a change, they would spend an evening on the rocky point which formed one of the protecting arms of Ydoll Cove, trying with pike rods, large winches and plenty of line, for the bass which played in silvery shoals in the swift race formed at the point by the meeting of two currents, and often having a little exciting sport in landing the swift-swimming, perch-finned fish.
For the fishing was too good off that part of the Cornish coast to be neglected, and the Colonel made allusions to the old proverb about all work and no play making Jack a dull boy.
One afternoon Gwyn loosened Grip for a run, to the dog’s great delight, and, after seeking out Joe, who had been at home for days attending on his father, who was troubled with one of his old fits—Joe called them fits of the Jungle demon—the boys went down to the mine, Grip trotting behind them, save when some rustle to right or left attracted him for a frantic hunt to discover the cause.
At the mine Tom Dinass was found, looking very sour and grim, for he was still not the best of friends with his fellow-workmen; but as he was one of the most steady in his devotion to his work he stood well with the owners.
Gwyn caught sight of him first, and Dinass saw him at the same moment, but, instead of coming forward, he pretended to have something to do elsewhere, and went off into the smelting-house.
“What has he gone off like that for?” said Gwyn; and the boys followed just in time to hear some blows being struck in the gloomy place where a fierce fire was roaring and sending thin pencils of light through cracks in the furnace door.
The next minute some pieces of hard burned clay crumbled beneath the blows, and there was a dazzling stream of molten metal poured out, to run along channels made in the floor to form flat, squarish ingots of tin, and display the colours of the rainbow, intensified to a brilliancy that was almost more than the eye could bear.
“Please father when he hears of the casting,” said Joe. “So much money has been laid out that he likes to hear of anything that will bring a return.”
“Well, there’s plenty of return coming in now,” said Gwyn. “We’ve got one of the richest mines in Cornwall. Here, Tom Dinass! What’s he mean by sneaking away? Here, Tom Dinass!”
“Want me, sir?” said the man, looking from one to the other suspiciously as he came up, his face shining in the wonderful glow shed by the molten tin.