“Why not?”
“Tom Dinass.”
Gwyn whistled.
“Soon put that right,” he said. “We’ll take him with us. He’ll enjoy the run.”
There was no doubt about that, for the dog was frantic with delight, and as soon as he was unchained he raced before them to the mouth of the pit, as readily as if he understood where they were going.
Sam Hardock was waiting, and he rubbed his nose on seeing the dog.
“I did advise you, sir, to keep him chained up while there’s danger about,” he grumbled.
“Won’t be any danger down below, Sam,” said Gwyn cheerily.
“What? Eh? You mean to take him with us? Oh, I see. But won’t he get chopped going down?”
“Not if I carry him.”