g him between his knees,
with head pointed as he believed in the direction of the shaft; and at
the last sound he unloosed him from the grip of his knees, and the dog
started steadily off, and they followed, but in a few minutes had to
take to running, for, after looking back several times to see if he was
followed, Grip increased his pace, and directly after disappeared in the
darkness beyond the glow shed by the lanthorn.

"You've done it now," cried Joe. "Why didn't you make your handkerchief
fast to his collar? He's gone home."

"Think so?" said Gwyn, blankly.

"Yes; that's certain enough; and we're just as badly off as ever."

"No," said Gwyn, in a tone full of confidence; "Grip found us, and he'll
come back again for certain."

"But we shall have to stop where we are, perhaps for another day or
two."

"Oh, no, he will not be long," said Gwyn; but there was less confidence
in his tones, and he stopped short, and began to call and whistle, with
the sounds echoing loudly along the tunnel-like place; but for some
moments all was silent, and Joe gave vent to a groan.

"Oh, why did you let him go, Ydoll? It was madness."

"Well," said the lad, bitterly, "you were as bad as I--you never said a
word about holding him."

"No, I never thought of it," said Joe, with a sigh. "But how horrid,
after thinking we were all right!"

"Yet it is disappointing," said Gwyn, gloomily; "but he'll soon come
back when he finds that we are not following him; and even if he went
right back to them, they'd send him in again."

"I don't believe they did send him in," said Joe, despairingly.

"They must. He couldn't have climbed down the ladders or got into the
skep of his own accord, and, if he had, they wouldn't have let him down.
They sent him, I'm sure."

"No, I'm afraid not," said Joe, piteously; "they didn't send him."

"How do you know?"

"Because if they had, they would have done what people always do under
such circumstances--written a note, and tied it to the dog's collar. He
had no note tied to his collar, I'm sure."

"No, I didn't see or feel any," said Gwyn, thoughtfully.

"No; we should have been sure to see it if he had one; so, for certain,
the dog came of his own will, and I don't think it's likely he'll come
again. He may or he may not."

Gwyn did not feel as if he could combat this idea, for Joe's notion that
a note would have been tied to the dog's collar--a note with a few
encouraging words--se