"Nay, I won't; but I'll never believe in any thing again. But you can't look at the stuff they got up, sir, she's full of water." "And it would take hundreds of pounds to get her dry, eh, Amos? Don't you worry your head about Wheal Carnac, sir, unless you want a place to work a company, and draw a salary until they are sick of it." "As some rogues down in these parts do," said Amos, making the sparks fly again. "I don't know about rogues," said the manager, laughing. "There's always plenty of fools with heaps of money, which they want to invest in mines, and I don't see why the adventurers shouldn't have it as well as any one else." Geoffrey turned in disgust from the manager, and held his candle so that its light should fall upon the frank, honest face of the miner, whose ways rather won upon him. "Look here, Pengelly," he said, "you and I will have a chat about Wheal Carnac and a look at the ore together." "Will you, sir? will you?" cried the miner, excitedly. "I can show you some of the ore. When will you look?" "Any time you like," said Geoffrey. "I don't suppose any thing will come of it, but I came to see all I can." "I've--I've waited years upon years to see that mine fairly tried," cried Pengelly, "but every one laughs at me." "Of course they do, Amos," said the manager, banteringly. "Why, you did trick one party into fooling away thousands." "Trick? trick? I tricked any one?" cried the miner, who had for the last few minutes been writhing under the lash of the other's tongue. "It's a lie--a cruel he!" he exclaimed, and in a furious burst of passion he whirled up his steel pick as though it had been a straw, to strike at the cause of his annoyance. Amos Pengelly's furious burst of passion was but of momentary duration. As Geoffrey made a step forward to seize his arm, the pick dropped from the man's hand, his face became convulsed, and all token of menace had gone. One moment he had been ready to strike down the manager for hinting that he was dishonest; the next his arms fell to his sides, his head drooped, his shoulders heaved, and he turned away into the darkness of the mine, uttering a low, piteous moaning as if torn by some great agony that he wished to hide from the sight of man. "Come away, sir," said the manager, quietly, "he won't like to face us again to-day," and as Geoffrey rather unwillingly followed him, the manager went on towards the foot of the shaft. "Poor old Amos! I believe he's a bit touched in the head. I haven't seen him in one of his fits of passion like that for months. He's off now into one of the darkest corners he can find, and he'll be down on his knees praying as hard as ever he can. His temper gets the better of him sometimes, and he's such a religious chap that he won't forgive himself for getting in a rage; but when he comes up to grass to-night he'll walk straight to my office, as humble as a child, and beg my pardon." "And you'll forgive him?" said Geoffrey.