“I d’know. Somewheres where they don’t know about it. We can’t stay here and face it. It’s too horrid. You can’t face the Colonel and his lady. Ah! they’re quite right; the mine is an unlucky one, and I wish I’d never spoke about it; but it seemed a pity for such a good working to go to waste. But they all say it’s unlucky, and full o’ all kinds o’ wicked, strange critters, ghosts and goblins, and gashly things that live underground to keep people from getting the treasure. I used to laugh to myself and say it was all tomfoolery, and old women’s tales; but it’s true enough, as I know now, to my sorrow.”
“How do you know?” cried Joe, angrily.
“By him going. It warn’t he as undid the rope—it was one o’ they critters, as a lesson to us not to ’tempt to go down. I see it all clear enough now.”
“Bah!” cried Joe, fiercely, “such idiotic nonsense! Let me tie the rope round myself, and I’ll go down and try and find him. I don’t believe in all that talk about the mine being haunted. I’ve heard it before.”
“Course you have, my lad. But let you go down? Nay, that I won’t. Poor young Gwyn Pendarve’s drownded, same as lots of poor fellows as went out healthy and strong in their fishing-boats have been drownded, and never come back no more. It’s very horrid, but it’s very true. He aren’t the first by a long chalk, and he won’t be the last by a many. It’s done, and it can’t be undone. But it’s a sad job.”
“Let me go down, Sam,” pleaded Joe, humbly now.
“Nay, I’m too much of a mizzable coward, my lad. I don’t want to leave you and lose you.”
“But you wouldn’t,” cried the boy. “I should tie the knot too tight.”
“I don’t know as yer could tie a better knot than I could, Master Joe Jollivet. And even if yer could, yer wouldn’t be able to make my hands feel strong enough to hold yer.”
“I’m not afraid of that; and he must be brought out.”