CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
DOWN THE SILVER MINE.
I left Sam picking out the touch-holes with a piece of wire, walked across the high ground of the wind-swept moor and descended into the Gap, a well-beaten track now marking the way.
It was too rough for wheels, but filled with the heavy hoof-marks of donkeys, which were used largely for carrying wood, charcoal, and sea-coal to the mine; and as I stood up by the spot where years before Bob Chowne, Bigley, and I had blown up the big stone and set it rolling down into the valley, it was wonderful what a change had taken place.
Where we had swept the side of the ravine clear with an avalanche of rock, there had now sprung up quite a tiny village built of the rough stones dug from the mine.

There was a large water-wheel slowly turning and sending down the water led to it from above, in company with that which it pumped out of the mine, all thick and discoloured, in quite a torrent to the beautiful little stream below, which now ran turbid and in which the trout were all dead.
There was a row of stoutly-built sheds, and a big place with a high chimney where the ore was smelted.

Then there were offices, and a building where the purified metal was passed through another furnace, and in addition a place where the metal was kept.
There seemed a total alteration in the place till I directed my eyes towards the sea, where all appeared to be unchanged.

There were the two cottages--Binnacle Bill's, with some newly washed white garments hanging over the rocks; and Jonas Uggleston's, with its stone sheds and outbuildings bristling with spars and wreck-wood that had been thrown up, and with nets and sails spread out to dry.
Beyond lay his lugger; and the boat drawn up on the beach, suggesting to my mind the horrors of that night when we were blown off the shore.
I stood looking at the scene, with the bare sea beyond and the vast cliff towering up a thousand feet on my left, and then began to descend the rugged slope, making straight for the building which my father used as his counting-house and office.
"Well, Sep," he said, smiling, "I'm glad to see you." I noticed that he looked care-worn and anxious, and his aspect reproached me, for I felt as if it was too bad of me to be making holiday while he was working so hard.
"Can I help you, father ?" I said.
"Help me! Yes, my boy, I hope so--a good deal; but I don't want to be too hard upon you.

Take a good look round for a few days, so as to rest a little while, and then you shall come and help me here; for, Sep, an affair like this is not without plenty of anxiety." "Oh, father!" I said, "I shall have plenty of time for amusement; let's see if I can't help you now." He looked more and more pleased as he heard my words.
"No," he said, "not yet.