“Oh, that was it?” cried Reed; “then I beg your pardon, my lads, and thank you, sir, heartily. Whom have I the pleasure of addressing?”
“Major Gurdon, at your service, sir,” and there was a swift military drawing up of the spare figure, the soft dark eyes brightened up, and the speaker threw back his grey head and gave his long white beard a shake to settle it upon his breast.
“Mr Reed, I believe, the new engineer of the mine?”
“Yes, sir, but at this present moment more like one of the miners,” said Reed, with a deprecating glance at his besmirched garments. “Excuse me one moment.”
He turned to the men with his hand in his pocket—a hand that did not come back empty, and the new-comers went off slowly, smiling as Reed turned now to the Major, who had stepped forward, eager to speak.
“You look thoroughly exhausted,” he said quickly. “I live quite a cottage life out here with my garden and fishing-rod, but if you will accept my hospitality, such as it is—”
“Really, I could not trouble you—and in this condition,” began Reed, as Sturgess changed colour, and an unpleasant scowl came upon his face.
“You will be conferring a favour, my dear sir,” said the Major. “One does not often have the society of a gentleman out in this wild place; and,” he added laughingly, “the hospitality will embrace soap and water and a clothes-brush.”
“Then I accept willingly,” said Reed, holding out his hand, but withdrawing it directly as he noted its condition, covered with dried limestone mud, and streaked in two places with blood.
“Nonsense!” said the Major, taking the hand. “I understand these things, my dear sir. I often go prowling about with a geologist’s hammer, and have gone home like this. Come along. My high tea will be about ready.”