ing to think that
you have made a great find."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE DOCTOR AND I BUILD A FURNACE.

My father was very silent as we walked swiftly back home, where he
locked up the specimens we had obtained, and then after a few minutes'
thought he signed to me to follow him and started for Ripplemouth.

About half-way there we met Doctor Chowne on his grey pony with Bob
walking beside him, and directly after the doctor and my father were
deep in conversation, leaving us boys together.

"What's the matter!" said Bob. "Your father ill?"

"No," I replied; "I think it's about business." How well I can
recollect Doctor Chowne! A little fierce-looking stoutish man, in drab
breeches and top-boots, and a very old-fashioned cocked hat that looked
terribly the worse for wear. He used to have a light brown coat and
waistcoat, with very large pockets that I always believed to be full of
powders, and draughts, and pills on one side; and on the other of
tooth-pincers, and knives, and saws for cutting off people's legs and
arms. Then, too, he wore a pigtail, his hair being drawn back and
twisted up, and bound, and tied at the end with a greasy bit of ribbon.
But it was not like anybody else's pigtail, for, instead of hanging down
decently over his coat collar, it cocked up so that it formed a regular
curve, and looked as if it was a hook or a handle belonging to his
cocked hat.

Before my father and he had been talking many minutes, the doctor turned
sharply round in his saddle, with one hand resting on the pony's back.
He was going to speak, but his hand tickled the pony, which began to
kick, whereupon Doctor Chowne, who looked rather red-faced and excited,
stuck his spurs into the pony's ribs, and this made him rear and back
towards the cliff edge, till the doctor dragged his head round so that
he could see the sea, when he directly ran backwards and stood with his
tail in the bank.

"Quiet, will you?" cried the doctor, and, as the pony was not being
tickled, he consented to stand still. "Here, Bob!" said the doctor
then.

"Yes, father."

"Go home."

"Go home, father! Mayn't I go along with Sep Duncan?"

"I said go home, sir," said the doctor sternly; and Bob turned short
upon his heel, and I saw him go along the road cutting viciously at the
ferns and knapweeds at every step.

"Come along, Sep," said my father, and I followed them as they walked
slowly back towards our cottage, my father holding on by t