"Iss, fay, that I woll," said the lad. "We pulled out to the Beal, to see wi' our own eyes the rock as Maister Dick tumbled down, and Tim Solly, the miner, says, says he, 'Be-jowned, my sonnies, if it bean't the noblest silver tin as ever I seed.' 'Twas the rock, yer reverence, and genelum all, had strook away the ground as covered it, and theer 'tis, bidin' to be dug out."
The Squire's face, as he listened to this, flushed and paled by turns.
"This is most extraordinary," said the Vicar. "I think we had better all go down to the Beal and see for ourselves."
"We will," said Mr. Polwhele. "Come along, Squire."
"'Tis pure fancy," murmured the Squire. "The ore would have been discovered long ago if it existed. My old mine comes within a few yards of the Beal."
"We can but see," said Mr. Mildmay. "Let us go at once, before the sun is down."
They hurried forth, the messengers following, Sam being now among them. As they went, the crowd was increased by many more of the villagers, who had poured out of their houses when they heard of the stampede. In a few minutes they reached the Beal, at the spot where the fallen rock had stood.
"Hi!" shouted a voice from below; "up or down, I don't care which it be, but I can't bide here all the cold night."
"Don't 'ee werrit, my son," said Tonkin, who had joined the throng. "Fling up a mossel o' that shinin' rock they tell about."
"Mind yer head, then, my dear, or 'twill hurt 'ee."