“You just do, sir, you just do, and if that place don’t turn out right, I’ll—I’ll—”
“Swallow your pick heft, eh, Amos?” said the manager, tauntingly.
“Nay, I won’t; but I’ll never believe in any thing again. But you can’t look at the stuff they got up, sir, she’s full of water.”
“And it would take hundreds of pounds to get her dry, eh, Amos? Don’t you worry your head about Wheal Carnac, sir, unless you want a place to work a company, and draw a salary until they are sick of it.”
“As some rogues down in these parts do,” said Amos, making the sparks fly again.
“I don’t know about rogues,” said the manager, laughing. “There’s always plenty of fools with heaps of money, which they want to invest in mines, and I don’t see why the adventurers shouldn’t have it as well as any one else.”
Geoffrey turned in disgust from the manager, and held his candle so that its light should fall upon the frank, honest face of the miner, whose ways rather won upon him.
“Look here, Pengelly,” he said, “you and I will have a chat about Wheal Carnac and a look at the ore together.”
“Will you, sir? will you?” cried the miner, excitedly. “I can show you some of the ore. When will you look?”
“Any time you like,” said Geoffrey. “I don’t suppose any thing will come of it, but I came to see all I can.”