’I don’t mean to,’ answered Sampson. He was panting after the thrashing he had administered, and as he cooled he began to question his discretion in giving way to his brutality. ’I say, Cobbledick, you mind this; you and I and my father are all in the same box, and you in the worst compartment of it, for it is you who have put the dust in. My father and I can always put on the look of innocence and throw the blame on you. You, if the rope has to be tasted, you will have the first bite.’ ’I understand,’ said the old man, putting his finger to his eye. ’Jonadab the son of Rechab weren’t my father. I ain’t a vule; it be they as goes to Ophir be the vules.’ ’You won’t take it ill that I thrashed you. You put me out, and I am naturally of a quick temper.’ ’I say, Cap’n; I wouldn’t let none else do the job to-day. I’d do it myself if I was you.’ ’I intend to. I told you I did.’ ’That be right. Do it yourself.’ Then young Sampson left the den. As he was turning away, he thought he heard loud laughter from within. He was of a suspicious nature, and he turned back. ’What are you laughing at, Cobbledick?’ ’I bain’t laughing; I be screeching wi’ pain. What wi’ the rheumatics, and the loinbagey, and the licking I ha’ had, I hev cause to, I reckon; and I sez glory rallaluley between the twinges by way of easement.’ *CHAPTER XXVIII.* *CAUGHT IN THE ACT.* Whilst young Sampson was with Old Grizzly in his den, Herring was on his way down the Okehampton road to meet the constable at a spot already agreed upon. When he came to the point near the stream where the track to Ophir diverged from the high road, he found two post carriages drawn up in the way, from which were descending a party of grave-looking persons of a hard appearance of face, as if they were all in a spiritual and mental ironmongery trade. They were under the lead of the Rev. Israel Flamank, who was about to conduct them over the mine. The way to it across the moor was rough, and not good travelling for a carriage. The chaises were ordered to go to Zeal, and the party, well supplied with comestibles, prepared to walk to Ophir, examine the washing of the gold, and then picnic in a serio-speculative mood on the moor. Mr. Flamank was a veritable decoy-duck to the Tramplaras. Full of enthusiasm, earnest in belief, transparently sincere, he impressed even those who had cool judgments. He looked on Ophir as his own discovery, and was proud of it. To hear him talk, the Bible was written as a huge puff of Ophir, and the Christian ministry called into existence to tout for shares. Herring was slightly acquainted with him. He had seen him several times at Ophir, and he knew that the man was sincere and honest. He pitied him because he saw him running headforemost to moral and pecuniary ruin. As he passed, he raised his hat to Mr. Flamank, who responded with a few words on the weather.