“Haw—haw—haw!” laughed Dummy. “He can see it now. Why, it come to me, Master Mark, like a flash of lightning.”
“Oh, Dummy, I’ll never call you a thick-head again,” cried Mark excitedly.
“Why not? May if you like: I don’t mind.”
“Then you think,” cried the lad, who was trembling now with excitement, “that we might get into Ergles through our mine?”
“Sure I do—all along them grotters and passages.”
“And take the ruffians by surprise?”
“Ketch ’em asleep, Master Mark. They’d never think of our coming behind, like.”
Mark seized the boy by the shoulders, and shook him as hard as ever he could.
“Why, you stupid old, ugly old, cleverest fellow that ever was! Why didn’t you think of this before?”
“Couldn’t, Master Mark,” cried the boy, grinning as if he were determined to display every tooth in his head; “it never come till this morning. Right, aren’t I?”