For Life.
“What nonsense!” cried Gwyn, laughing. “Don’t you be scared by trifles, Joe. There’s nothing wrong, is there, Grip?”
The dog threw up his head, gazed pleadingly at his master, and then made for the farther opening.
“No, no, not that way,” cried Joe.
“Yes, sir, we’ll try that way please; it works round by the wet drive, and the big pillared hall, as you called it.”
“But look here, Sam, are you serious?” said Joe; “or are you making this fuss to frighten us?”
“You never knowed me try to do such a thing as that, sir,” said the man, sternly. “P’raps I’m wrong, and I hope I am; but all the same I should be glad for us to get to the foot of the shaft again.”
“Why not go to where the men are at work?” suggested Gwyn; “they’d know.”
“We shall take them in our way, sir; and we won’t lose any time please.”
“I should like to light up the place once more before we go.”