“We was stowing--the last of the cargo--_by_ starlight, when I see--the man agen. He was setting, behind a stone, his eyes shining--like a cat’s--upon each of us--tradesmen--_as_ we disappeared, down the hole. We was druv to it--_as_ we thought--and tuk our plans--cautious and seized en. He was a cat--he was. We bled, a few on us. But we got en down, he screeching--all the time--about some treasure, he was come arter,--and then I left en, _and_ went up--to keep watch. I couldn’t stand--what I knew was to foller. I’m a peaceable man--by disposition, I am. It was a providence--arter all. _Fur_ I hadn’t abin--there not a minute--when all hell bruk--underneath me, and went out _with_ a roar. The blessed ground--heaved itself--_like_ so much bed-clothes; the arches--come thumping down, and all--in a noise--_as_ if, the Almighty was a tearing--of His world--to tatters. I were spilt on my face--lucky, _fur_ me, I’d moved away to git--out o’ earshot--of the thing, under--and when I come--to my senses, I didn’t know myself--or the place. I crep’ home--dazed-like--to bed; _and_ kep’ it--_fur_ a week--hearing of the ’arthquake. But I knew, in my heart, what had happened. Some fool had fired--the powder--_and_ closed up, the hill. It were so--I was sure--when I come at last--to look. It seemed all fallen, _in_ upon itself. Where the passage--had been--were just, a shipload, of ruin, the half of it turned over--_and_ sunk, into the herth. I never believed--from that moment--_till_ the day I seen it, proved otherwise--that so much--_as_ a babby--could find its way agen--_into_ them shattered vaults. But the Lord--has His way.” He ended, amidst a deep silence, and sank back exhausted. Joshua got quietly to his feet. “You are forgiven, Rampick,” he said, “by me and by us all. Make your peace with God.” Mr. Sant motioned to us. Silently we filed out, and left the dying and his minister alone. CHAPTER XIV. WHAT THE LETTER SAID. We were all sitting very sombrely in the gloaming, when Mr. Sant came in to us. There was no need to question anything but his face. “Yes,” he said, “it is over. God give him mercy!” By common consent we would speak no more on the subject until nature had been restored. There was a scent of battle, not to speak of eggs and bacon, in the air, which inspired us somehow to brace up our loins before the ordeal. Tea was on the table, and we sat down to it, and presently were doing justice to Uncle Jenico’s plentiful fare. Then, refreshed and reinvigorated, we pulled our chairs to the fire, and the ball began. “Now, Mr. Pilbrow,” opened the rector, cautiously, “what is your next move?” “To find and search my brother Abel’s body,” answered Joshua, prompt and perfectly cool. “What is yours?” “To go straight to the squire, and put the whole matter into the hands of the law,” said Mr. Sant. “You will give me a day or two first?” “No!” “One day?” “No.” Joshua scrambled to his feet, and went to and fro.