"Come away back, Tom," added Rosson.

So we all returned to where Willie Hercus still remained, and
wondered what he could mean by calling us back.

When we entered the chasm we were much surprised to find Hercus
lying flat on the shingle, with his right arm deep in a hole he had
dug, and the dog at his side, wagging her tail and uttering short
barks of excitement.

"Good sakes!" exclaimed Robbie Rosson. "What's wrong with the lad?"

Much relieved we were to hear Hercus speak. I confess I had felt
certain some harm had happened to him.

"Come away," he said, in a tone which was far from being a cry of
pain. "Come away, lads, and give us a hand here. There's better
gear than rats in this hole, I'm thinking."

And, so saying, he rose to his knees and held out to us a heavy and
black piece of metal, which at first I took to be an iron bolt.

"Well, what is it?" I asked, taking the thing in my hand and
examining it.

"What is it?" said Hercus. "Can you not see, lad? Why, it's
silver!"