He calculated shrewdly about how long it would take before they would be glad to come up. If Trevanion remained behind them, or if he went down without them later—Richards shrugged his shoulders. It was easy for a man to fall down an uncovered winze in a strange mine. And the fall would explain any bruises.
As they started for the cage, he turned to young Carrington. His smile was distinctly disagreeable.
“Sorry you don’t feel like coming, too,” he said, “but you might catch cold or get your clothes dirty.”
Whatever faults there were to young Carrington’s credit, cowardice was not one of them. Not that foolhardiness is not almost as reprehensible.
“If you’ll lend me a cap and a pair of boots, I shall be delighted,” he answered instantly.
“No, Mr. Ned. You’re not in this,” Trevanion remonstrated.
Young Carrington was pulling on his cap composedly now.
“You’ve never been down the Star, even. You won’t be of any use,” Trevanion insisted. Young Carrington was getting into an oilskin coat. Richards had not thought he would.
“I’ll telephone your father,” Trevanion declared.