"He can come down if he likes, and you can give him a pick and tell him to mine for himself until the commoners catch him," said Pendoggat pleasantly. "We've done with your uncle. He won't subscribe any more money, and I reckon his friends won't either. We've done our part. We've got the money, nothing like so much as we wanted, but still a good bit, and they can have the nickel, or what they think is nickel, and they can come here and work it till the Duchy asks them what they're after, or till the commoners fling them into the Tavy. Write that to your uncle," said Pendoggat, poking his victim in the ribs with his big Bible. The minister stopped, but his companion went on, so he had to follow, stumbling after him very much as Brightly had followed upon that same road begging for his "duppence." "What do you mean, Mr. Pendoggat? What do you mean?" he kept on saying. "You're a happy man," muttered Pendoggat like a mocking bird. "Got a wife, hoping for a child, manager of a mining company, with a rich fool of an uncle. You're a lucky man, Pezzack." "I'm a 'appy and fortunate man," gasped Eli. "Every one respects you. They think you're a poor preacher, but they know you're honest. It's a fine thing to be honest. You'll be called to a town some day, and have a big congregation to sit under you if you keep honest." "I 'ope so. You're walking so fast I don't seem able to keep up with you." "It's a cold night. Come on, and get warm. How would you feel if people found out you weren't honest? I saw a man sentenced to-day--hard labour, for robbery. How would you feel if you were sentenced for robbery? Gives you a cold feeling, I reckon. Not much chance of a pulpit when you came out. Prison makes a man stink for the rest of his life." "I can't keep up with you, Mr. Pendoggat, unless I run. I haven't enough breath," panted Eli. Pendoggat put the Bible under his arm, turned, caught Eli by the wrist and strode on, dragging the clumsy minister after him. "Mr. Pendoggat, I seem to think some'ow you don't 'ardly know what you are a-doing of." Pezzack was confused and becoming uncertain of grammar. "You'd stand and freeze. Breathe this wind into you and walk like a man. What would you think, I'm asking ye, if you were found guilty of robbery and sent to prison? Tell me that." "I can't think no'ow," sobbed Eli, trying to believe that his dear friend and brother had not gone mad. "Can't think," growled Pendoggat. "See down under! That's where the mine is, your mine, Pezzack, your nickel mine." "You are 'urting my arm, Mr. Pendoggat, my rheumatic arm. Don't go on so fast if you kindly please, for I don't seem able to do it. Yonder ain't my mine, Mr. Pendoggat. It's yours, but I called it mine because you told me to." "Your uncle thinks it's yours. So do his friends. All the business has gone through you. What do they think of me? Who do they think I am?" "Oh, Mr. Pendoggat, I told them you are the manager."