“I can’t think where the water comes from, Mr. Vermont. There must be a hidden spring somewhere. Can I have the pumps going and make preparations for an excavation?”
“Certainly, Mennell, when you like,” and William Mennell, foreman of the Westpoint Gold Mines in Walla Balla, Australia, started his preparations.
The part of the mine he was working on at the moment was overrun with water, which made the working very difficult, and was causing a great deal of anxiety about the ultimate safety of the mine. The pumps were made ready, a shaft was sunk, and they began to work.
“The trouble is there, sir,” said he, indicating the ground under his foot. “I’ll have it all up to-morrow.” By six the next morning the men were hard at work, and merrily they shovelled the earth aside, cracking jokes meanwhile. Suddenly one of the men lurched forward and gave a cry as he threw himself backward on the ground behind him.
“What’s up, Bill? Tea too strong this morning?”
“Take care,” he shouted. “There’s a landslip or something. My spade went right through. There’s a hole there.”
Carefully they examined the place, and found that the ground was not solid beneath, but below yawned a pitch dark cavern.
“Where is Mr. Mennell? What had we better do?”
Mennell came up. “Got a lantern, boys?” he asked. “Let’s see how deep it is.” They tied a miner’s lantern on to the end of a red neckerchief and let it down. “H’m, only about eight feet—during the blasting the land must have slipped. My God,” he shouted. “Ropes! Ladders! I’m going down.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Ferrers, one of his pals. “You look as if you have seen a ghost.”