"Oh, Sep!" cried Bigley reproachfully. "Then, we must go back."

We stood looking at each other just as we had made a fresh start, and
the weariness we were beginning to feel brought with it a strange
low-spirited sensation that was depressing in the extreme.

"Come along," I said. "Let's get back, or we shall lose another day
before we can get off a letter."

"Wait a minute," said Bigley; "there's the half-way house not a quarter
of a mile away. We'll go on there and have some bread and cheese and
cider, then we shall be able to walk back more quickly."

It did not take us long to reach the pretty little road-side ale-house,
where the first thing I saw was the doctor's pony tied up to the gate by
the rough stable or shed.

"Some one ill?" I said. "Shall we tell Doctor Chowne what we were
going to do?"

I had hardly spoken these words when my father appeared at the door.

"Why, Sep, Uggleston!" he exclaimed; "you here?"

"Why, father!" I cried, catching him by the arm. "I thought you had
gone."

"The pony broke down, my boy," said my father, "and I have had to bring
him back here--walking all the way; and I was undecided as to whether I
should pay someone to take him home, or lead him myself, and make a
fresh start to-morrow."

"Come back," I said with a look full of delight. "He ought to come
back, eh, Big?"

Bigley nodded and smiled, and then I eagerly told him all.

"It was Bigley's doing, father," I exclaimed. "He found it out."

"My lad," said my father huskily, "you have saved me, for I could only
have sold my property at a terrible loss."

"And you will come back with us, father," I said.

"Come back, my boy? Of course. Why, Bigley, my lad, you have always
looked at me as if I felt a grudge against you for being your father's
son; now, my boy, I shall always have to look at you as a benefactor,
who has saved me from ruin."

Bigley tried to say something about that dreadful night, and the attack
on the mine premises, but my father stopped him.

"Never mind about all that," he said; "let's get back and see if you are
right, and that it is not a solitary chest which the Frenchmen have left
us."

"No fear of that, sir," cried Bigley. "I was down long enough to see
that there was quite a lot of them."

"Or of pieces of rock," said my father smiling. "I'm older than you
are, my lad, and not so sanguine."

"But I feel so sure, sir," cried Bigley.

"That's right, my lad. I'm gl