oking somewhat anxiously after the landing of his baggage,
which consisted of a wooden chest and an old carpet-bag.

When at last it stood safely on the platform, he cast a comprehensive
look at his surroundings and then turned to the group of men who had
come down to watch the boat come in, and four pairs of eyes on the
opposite side of the gulf watched him curiously, with little thought of
the tremendous part he was to play in all their lives.

"Where's he stop?" asked Peter.

"Our house."

"Nay!"

"Ouaie, I tell you. He's to stop at our house."

"Why doesn't he go to Barracks?"

"Old Captain's there and they might not agree. Oh ouaie, he'll have his
hands full, I'm thinking. And if he's not careful it's a crack on the
head and a drop over the Coupee he'll be getting."

"Ah!" said Peter Mauger.

"Come you along and see what kind of chap he is."

"Aw well, I don't mind," and they strolled away to inspect the new Mine
Captain, who was to brace up the slackened ropes and bring the
enterprise to a successful issue.

"Did you know he was going to stop with us, Nance?" asked Bernel, as
they groped their way out after due interval.

"I heard father tell mother this morning."

"Where's he to sleep?"

"He's to have my room and I'm coming up into the loft. I shall take the
dark end, and I've put up a curtain across."

"Shoo! We'll hear enough about the mines now," and they crept out behind
a gorse bush, and went off across the common towards the clump of
wind-whipped trees inside which the houses of Little Sark clustered for
companionship and shelter from the south-west gales.

CHAPTER IV

HOW GARD MADE NEW ACQUAINTANCES

Old Tom Hamon gave the new arrival warm greeting, and pointed out such
matters as might interest him as they climbed the steep road which led
up to the plateau and the houses.

"Assay Office, Mr. Gard.... Captain's Office.... Forge.... Sark's Hope
shaft.... Le Pelley shaft--ninety fathoms below sea-level.... Pump
shaft ... and yon to east'ard is Prince's shaft.... We go round here
behind engine-house.... Yon's my house 'mong the trees."

"That's a fine animal," said Gard, stopping suddenly to look at a great
white horse, which stood nibbling the gorse on the edge of the cliff
right in the eye of the sun, as it drooped towards Guernsey in a
holocaust of purple and amber and crimson clouds. The glow of the
threatening sky threw the great white figure into unusual prominence.