"That I don't know; we can try. But the skin is the valuable part of him, and having that we may leave the rest."
In two hours the receding tide had left the dead seal on the sand. The boys took out their knives, and, expert in such work, in another half-hour had removed the skin. Their torches were by this time burning low, so they clambered up to the ledge, and carried their implements and booty as quickly as possible through the adit to the foot of the well, and then up to the surface.
Vastly pleased with the success of their expedition they set off towards home. The night was very dark, and a thin rain was falling, which increased as they proceeded, until it became a steady downpour. They were tired; their burdens, light enough when they started from home, now seemed to be pounds heavier; the rain beat full in their faces, finding out every crevice between their clothes and their skin; and the ground was rough, covered here with tussocks of grass that squelched under their tread, there with fragments of mining gear which threatened to trip them up. They trudged on in silence, feeling the loneliness and the inclemency of the weather the more keenly because it ensued upon the high excitement of their adventure.
As they struck into the path leading by Penwarden's cottage, Sam suddenly declared that he saw a flicker of light to their left, some distance across the moor.
"I can't see it," said Dick, scarcely looking in the direction indicated, "and it doesn't matter to us. I'm tired; this skin is heavy; I want to get home."
"'Tis moving," said Sam a moment later. "Maybe 'tis Maister John comin' back from Lunnon."
"He wouldn't come that way. I see it now; 'tis some belated traveller, no doubt."
"But the light bean't on the road; 'tis too far away."
"Never mind about the light," Dick replied, testily. "Come along."
They soon came to one of John Trevanion's new fences, which compelled them to leave the path and seek the high road. In his moody frame of mind Dick resented this bitterly. They now perceived that the light, spread starwise by the rain, was much nearer to them, and presently heard the creaking of wheels and the dull thud of horses' hoofs on the turf. A minute after they had struck the road a closed travelling carriage, drawn by two horses, turned into it from a byway, scarcely more than a bridle path. On the right of the driver there was a single lamp. Catching sight of the two figures on the road, bending forward under their loads, the driver hailed them and pulled up his horses beside them.