Then he resumed his upward course; and having put something like thirty-five feet between his person and the solid earth, he vanished through a black doorway.
Climbing a straight ladder usually sets my hair on end; but this one I tackled without hesitation, and in a very few seconds stood before the door.
In the semi-darkness, I perceived that a wide ledge ran around the wall inside, and that Hawkins was standing upon it, gazing upon the hundreds of tons of coal below, and having something the effect of the Old Nick himself glaring down into the pit.
“There she is!” said the inventor laconically, pointing across the gulf.
I made my way to his side and stared through the gloom.
Something seemed to loom up over there.
Presently, as my eyes grew accustomed to the change, I perceived the arm of a huge crane, from which was suspended an enormous scoop.
“You mean that mastodonic coal-scuttle?” I inquired.
“Precisely. That's the Hawkins Crano-Scale.”
“And what does she do when she—er—crano-scales things, as it were?”