“In fine wing, sir, the two that are left, for one died, you know, sir. But these are the strongest two, and were Miss Meta’s favourites.”
It was determined to start them both—both to bear the self-same message.
Claude would not willingly have brought a tear to Meta’s eyes to own a throne, but it was agreed between the doctor and him that the best plan was to tell the whole truth, to hide nothing of the terrible extremities to which they were reduced.
And Claude took his advice, and with that message of love which those strong-winged birds bore away south with them, was something like a farewell, a long farewell, and a fear that, on earth, he—Claude—would never meet his love again.
“I think I can face death more bravely now,” said Claude.
“And I too,” was the reply.
It will be seen that even Dr Barrett lacked the complete hope of being able to fight against the fearful odds before them.
The men were set to work at the mines, but they did so with very little heart indeed.
What is the good, they said, of slaving here like coal-heavers, for gold that can never benefit either ourselves or our families?
Faddy came to Claude as spokesman.