“Makes one want to see more of what it’s like,” said Joe.
“Yes; I didn’t know father was thinking about it so seriously. Why, it’ll be splendid, Joe. I say; you’ll have to go down the mine first this time.”
“Yes, I suppose so, but not your way.”
“Hist!” whispered Gwyn, as they drew near. “What does that mean?”
“What? I don’t see anything.”
Gwyn ducked down behind one of the great, grey weathered lumps of granite, and signed to his companion to follow his example.
This was done on the instant, and then Joe looked inquiringly in his face.
“Something wrong,” whispered Gwyn. “Trespassers. Got to know that father means to work the mine.”
Gwyn raised his head slowly, so as to peer over the block of granite, and plainly made out a hand and arm working about at the side of the low protection wall of the old mine.
“Sam Hardock,” whispered Joe, who had followed his example. “What’s he doing? Measuring the depth?”