"You buy it," said old Prawle; "and whatever you do, don't let it go; but buy it as cheaply as you can." Geoffrey stood looking at the old man for a few minutes, and in those few minutes his whole connection with the mine seemed to pass in review before him; and as it did, he asked himself whether he should be doing right in letting the old man invest his money like this. "Well," said Prawle, "what are you thinking about?" "You," he said sharply. "Suppose, when you have spent your savings on this mine, it should turn out a dead failure?" "Well, what then?" "You would lose something." "Well, I know that, don't I? Do you suppose I'm a babby? There, I've bided my time, my lad, and I know what I'm doing. Are you ready?" "Yes," said Geoffrey. "And you'll stick to me, my lad, when the mine's my property?" "I will, Prawle," said Geoffrey, earnestly, as he shook off his forebodings; "and, somehow or another, I'll make it pay." "That'll do, my lad; we understand one another, and you won't repent it. Just give one more look at your compass." Geoffrey did so. "Now then, you feel pretty sure you can hit the workings from here?" "Yes, I feel certain," said Geoffrey; "and it will relieve the mine without pumping, but not so that we can get the tin." "That'll do," said the old man, nodding. "Come along." He led the way to the boat, and once more kneeling in her bows, he directed their way along the subterranean passage, while Geoffrey leaned back in the stern watching him, and thinking that if he had been an artist he would have desired no better suggestion for a picture of Charon ferrying some unfortunate soul across the Styx, so weird and darksome was their way, so strange and gloomy the shadows cast, till once more in the distance appeared a faint gleam of light playing upon the surface of the water. Then the low arch came into view, and soon after they were out in broad daylight once again, and rowing steadily towards the Cove. CHAPTER FIFTY. TOO LATE. There was no time to lose if he intended to be present at the sale, so hastily putting a few things in a bag, Geoffrey bade Madge good-by, and brought a smile in her thin, worn face as he took up the little one and kissed it, giving it a toss, and setting it off crowing and laughing before replacing it in Bessie's arms. "Any commission for town, ladies?" he said; "ribbons, laces, or what do you say to a new hood for the squire here?" Just then the dark face of old Prawle appeared at the door, and, reminding him of his commission, he started off at once to catch the coach. "It's a rum world," he said, as he gazed at the smokeless chimneys of the great mine as he went on, and then, leaning more to his task, he began to picture the place busy once more, with its panting engines, and the click and rattle of the ore-reducing machinery.