“No fear of that,” said Thirkle.  “It’s wider at the top than at the bottom, and the tops hang away.  I looked into all that when I decided to put it in here.  There isn’t as much water as ye think, Bucky; and it’s under foot what there is of it, and, the way we’ve got it stowed here, one atop of the other, only the bottom one’ll be very wet—­and gold don’t rust.”

“These guineas will be thick with scale, and ye’ll need a chipping hammer to clean ’em when ye have ’em outside again.  Ye talk about folks bein’ suspicious of gold, but I say they’re quicker to turn up their noses and say things about gold that’s been stowed in the wet and turned black.”

“But gold don’t rust, Bucky.  That’s sure—­gold don’t rust,” said Petrak.

“That’s all very well:  but I mind when I dropped half a crown in a pool back home, and in a fortnight it was thick as my hand.  Think I’m a fool?  I know what I’m talkin’ about, if ye don’t.  Go ahead and side with Thirkle if ye like.”

“That was silver, Bucky.  Gold don’t rust like that.  I always knew gold don’t rust, and now Thirkle says it don’t, and Thirkle knows, as he always did.  Mind we always asked Thirkle?”

“I’m not asking him any more if ye want to know, vote or no vote.  My vote is as good as Thirkle’s, and it’s good as yours; and ye can side with him if ye want.”

“But gold don’t rust,” said Petrak mockingly.

“Ye think I’m a fool?” shrieked Buckrow, turning on Petrak.  He was nearest the outside, and I could see his figure silhouetted against the light at the entrance.  He stooped down and put his face close to Petrak.

“Fool or not, gold don’t rust, I’m telling ye Buck—­”

“Then take that from a fool!” And Buckrow struck him square in the face with his fist, hurling him back on my shoulders, so that I fell forward on my hands.

“That’s rotten mean, Bucky,” I heard Petrak whining.  “That’s rotten mean in here in the dark, Bucky.”

“That is rotten mean, Petrak,” said Thirkle indignantly.  “I wouldn’t stand for that if I were you.”

“Oh, ye wouldn’t, hey?  Well, we’ll see what ye stand for soon’s ye come out into the clear—­that’s what we’ll see, Thirkle.”

“It’s rotten mean,” whimpered Petrak.  “I wouldn’t do the likes o’ that to ye, Bucky; not if ye never agreed along with me—­it’s rotten mean.”

“Ye’ll get worse as that is.  Now, does gold rust, ye little runt?  Say it!  Does gold rust?”

“That’s hardly fair, Bucky,” said Thirkle.  “That’s hardly fair on the little chap after he’s stood by ye so long.”

“Fair enough for me, Thirkle, and fair enough for ye it’ll be when ye come out.”

“What do ye mean by that, Buck?” demanded Thirkle, speaking over my shoulder; and then he whispered to Petrak:  “Give it to him, Red—­now’s yer chance.  Quick, lad!”

“Soon enough ye’ll find out what I mean, Thirkle; that’s what.  If the two of ye think yer going to side together ag’in’ me, well and good; but look out for Bad Buckrow, I say.  I’ll make my meanin’ blasted clear, too.  Mind that.”