“Most reckless—most imprudent,” he cried. “You ought to have known better, sir, than to lead these boys into such a terrible position; and how dare you, sir—how dare you begin examining my property without my permission!”
“Well you see, Colonel,” began Hardock, “I thought—be doing you good, like, and as a neighbour—”
“A neighbour, indeed! Confounded insolence! Be off, sir! How dare you! Never you show yourself upon my land again. There, you, Gwyn, come home at once and change your clothes; and as for you, Jollivet, you give my compliments to your father and tell him I say he ought to give you a good thrashing, and if he feels too ill to do it, let him send you down to me, and I will. Now, Gwyn; right face. March!”
The Colonel led off his son, and Hardock and Joe stood looking at each other.
“Made him a bit waxy,” said the miner; “but he’ll come round to my way of thinking yet; and it strikes me that he’ll be ordering me on to his land again, when he knows all. I say, young Jollivet, mean to go down to him to be thrashed with the young Colonel?”
“Oh, he wouldn’t thrash me,” said Joe, quietly. “I know the Colonel better than that. I feel all stretched and aching like. I wish he hadn’t taken Gwyn home, though.”
“I don’t feel quite square myself, lad,” said the mining captain; “but you see if the Colonel don’t go looking at the mine.”
Hardock’s prophecy was soon fulfilled, for that evening the Colonel was rowing in his boat with his son, who had a mackerel line trailing astern, and when they came opposite to the great buttress the Colonel lay on his oars, and let his boat rise and fall on the clear swell.
“Now, then; whereabouts is the mouth of the adit?”
“I can’t quite make it out from down here, father,” replied Gwyn. “Yes I can; there it is, only it doesn’t look like an opening, only a dark shadowy part of the cliff. No one could tell it was a passage in, without being up there.”