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garotter. “Good-bye, boys,” he said; “do the best you can for yourselves.” He turned to John Collins. “It’s your first time,” he said: “remember and keep to yourself. Keep to yourself and hang on to your good-time; hang on to your copper.” He hurried on after the others. John Collins’s eyes followed the three men into the dark vaulted way. Suddenly the tunnel was lit up as with a burst of golden light; at its extremity, roundly framed, appeared the outline of a hill, tawny against a blue sky.
There was a metallic clang; the tunnel darkened again. Collins’s eyes turned back to the gray walls. “Hang on to your copper,” he murmured vaguely.
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