nd if it's as he says, Grant's
that sort o' boy as'll repent and be very sorry, and if he don't come
back before, you'll get a letter begging your pardon for what he's done,
or else I shall. You wait a couple of days.'

"I dunno why, but I was reg'lar uncomf'table about you, my lad, and I
didn't understand Juno stopping away so, for next day she was gone
again, but next night she was back. Next day she was gone again, and
didn't come back, and on the fourth, when I was down the garden
digging--leastwise, I wasn't digging, for I was leaning on my spade
thinking, up comes Old Brownsmith's brother with his mouth open, and
before he could say a word I says to him, `Stop!' I says; `I've got
it,' for it come to me like a flash o' lightning.

"`What?' he says.

"`Them boys is in that sand-pit, covered over!' I says.

"`That's it!' he says. `I was coming to say I thought so, and that we'd
go over directly.'

"Bless your heart, my boy, I was all of a shiver as I got into the light
cart alongside Old Brownsmith's brother and six shovels and four spades
in the bottom of the cart as I felt we should want, and I see as Old
Brownsmith's brother had got a flask o' something strong in his
breast-pocket. Then I just looked and saw that Juno warn't there, and
we were off.

"My hye, how that there horse did go till we got to the little public.
We stopped once to give her mouth a wash out and a mouthful of hay, and
then we were off again, never hardly saying a word, but as we got to the
public we pulls up, and Old Brownsmith's brother shouts to the landlord,
`Send half-a-dozen men up to the sand-pit directly. Boys buried.'

"You see he felt that sure, my lad, that he said that, and then we drove
on up the hill, with the horse smoking, and a lot of men after us.

"First thing we see was Juno trotting towards us, and she looked up and
whined, and then trotted back to a place where it was plain enough, now
we knew, a great bit of the side had caved down and made a slope, and
here Juno began scratching hard, and as fast as she scratched the more
sand come down.

"I looked, at Old Brownsmith's brother, and he looked at me, and we
jumped out, slipped off our coats and weskits, took a shovel apiece, and
began to throw the sand away.

"My head was all of a buzz, for every shovelful I threw out I seemed to
see your white gal's face staring at me and asking of me to work harder,
and I did work like a steam-engyne.

"Then, one by