And with a very red face, almost convulsed with excitement, he still shouted like a madman, while the cage slowly went down, down.
A cold chill fell on every heart. In the upper compartment some of the women began to utter piercing shrieks. In the lower room a few screams were heard and all clung tightly to the men's arms. Some fainted. It was a moment of indescribable alarm. They all thought this was their dying hour.
And still the manager kept shouting: "The brakes, put on the brakes."
And the voices below, more and more distinct, replying: "It cannot be done."
When they firmly believed that they were rushing into the nether void the cage quietly stopped. They heard a peal of loud laughter, and their terrified eyes beheld, by the tremulous light of tallow candles, a party of miners whose grinning faces suddenly assumed an expression of the utmost alarm and dismay.
"What is all this? What is the meaning of this piece of foolery?" asked the manager, jumping out of the lift in a rage and going up to them.
The men respectfully took off their hats and one of them with a shame-faced smile stammered out:
"Begging your pardon, Señor, we thought it was a lot of the men, and we wanted to give 'em a fright."
"Did not you know that we were coming down?" he angrily asked.
"We thought the gentlefolks were going to stop at number nine, where all the fine doings are to be——"