Up came a jagged knob of rock, which Tonkin deftly caught and handed to the Squire. A breathless silence fell on the crowd as he turned it over in his trembling hands. He passed it to Mr. Polwhele, and he in turn to the foreman of Trevanion's mine, who stood by.
"'Tis tin ore, gentlemen, without doubt," he said, "and, I think, very rich in metal. You will do well, sir, to bring an assayer to test it."
His words were received with a joyous shout. Caps were flung into the air; a hundred lusty throats roared cheers for the Squire. Mr. Carlyon grasped his old friend's hand.
"'Hold fast the rock by the western sea!'" he said. "Wonderful! Wonderful!"
"Let us keep our heads," said the Squire. "It may be a false hope."
"Hi!" shouted the miner. "When be I a-comin' up-along?"
"Never, my son," cried Tonkin. "We can't heave 'ee up wi'out doin' a deal o' damage to yer mortal frame. Bide quiet, and we'll fetch 'ee in a boat."
"I'll never disbelieve in witches again," said the Vicar. "Dick! Where is the boy? 'Twas an inspiration—upon my word it was."
Dick was not to be found. He was running like a deer to tell his mother the great news. Sam followed, hopelessly outstripped, eager to pour the story into the ears of Maidy Susan. The Squire and his friends returned more slowly to the house, and the people, giving him a parting cheer, hurried to the village.
When a mixed crowd of fishers, farmers, and miners entered the taproom of the Three Jolly Mariners, they found Joe Penwarden comfortably settled in the place nearest the fire. As an excise-man, he had never frequented the smugglers' haunt at the Five Pilchards, but occasionally dropped in for a glass at the other inn. Observing Tonkin, Pendry, and a dozen more free-traders among the newcomers, he shook the ashes out of his church-warden, gulped down his grog, and rose to go. It was against the rules of the service to consort with smugglers, known or suspected.