“Yis, but sure an may be they didn’t go to work the right way.”
“O, I dare say they did all that could be done; and I don’t see how anybody could do any more, except they get a steam engine, the way they ’re going to do.”
“O, sure an that’s all very well; but still, whin the holes ere already bored, the hardest of the work’s done; an a handy boy might be more use than a stame ingin, so he might. Sore an I’d like to see meself at the bottom of one of thim pits that’s nearest to the money-hole. I’d make a grab for the trisure, so I would.”
“Pooh, nonsense! What could you do?”
“Sure I’d make a dash for it. There’s nothin like tryin. Nothin venture, nothin have. I’ve got a notion that a body might make a bit of a tunnel in undor there, an git at the money-box. At any rate it’s worth tryin for, so it is.”
“A tunnol!” exclaimed Bart “I never thought of that Do you really think that you could do it?”
“Why not?” said Pat “Sure I’ve seen it done. All ye’ve got to do is to have on archway, an there it is. It’ll howld till doomsday. A tunnol is it? Sure I’d like to see meself down there with a bit of a pick, an I’d soon have the tunnel. An besides, it’s only blue clay I’d have to work in.”
“So it is,” said Burt, in great excitement “He said blue clay. It’s only in the money-hole where the sand and gravel are.”
“An blue clay,” said Pat, “to my mind, is as aisy cuttin as chalk or chaise. It’s like cuttin into butther, so it is. Why, there’s nothin in the wide wurrld to hender you an me from goin down there an tannelin through the blue day from the nearest pit straight into the money-hole.”
“But what can we do about the water rushing in?” asked Bart.