The Major has Strange Symptoms.
“Whatever is the meaning of all this?” panted the Colonel, as Major Jollivet came up more slowly, looking weak and pale, but urged on by his excitement, to their side.
Gwyn blurted out something incoherent, for he was too much exhausted to speak plainly, and stared confusedly at his father.
“What?” cried the latter; “I can’t understand you. Here, Joe Jollivet, what have you to say?”
“Blurr—blurr—bline!” babbled Joe.
“Splendid cuts, Pendarve. The grand old form,” panted Major Jollivet. “You—you—you—sent—sent—the blood—der—der—dancing through—in—my veins.”
“Yes, I flatter myself, he had them home,” said the Colonel, smiling with satisfaction. “Regular old pursuing practice. Lucky for him it was not the steel. But what is it all about? Who is the fellow? Was he trying to rob you?”
“No—you, father,” stuttered Gwyn. “C–caught him—mum—measuring the mine. Took away—his line.”
“What? You boys did?”
Joe nodded, still too breathless to speak, and not feeling disposed to utter incoherent sounds again.