“Perhaps he is dealing with mines, and can give people work,” thought Gwyn; and then the matter passed out of his mind.
Friday morning came, and directly after breakfast the two young fellows met, Gwyn provided with a basket of provender, his hammer, chisel and some magnesium ribbon, while Joe had brought an extra-powerful oil lanthorn.
“Ready?”
“Yes; I’ve told father I shall be late,” said Joe.
“So have I, and my mother, too. Seen anything of Tom Dinass? No?”
“But—oh, I say!”
“Well, say it,” cried Gwyn.
“What about Grip?”
“Quite well, thank you for your kind inquiries, but he says he feels the cold a little in his legs.”
“Don’t fool,” said Joe, testily. “You’re not going to leave the dog?”