“The afternoon was now waning. Outside, away on the top, where the only roof was the heavens, the sun had sunk to the level of the pine-trees, from whose straight and gently-swaying bodies the grotesque shadows of the night were beginning to steal. It is a peculiarity of the mines that, however deep down they may be, they yet feel the influence of time, and the departure of the sunlight from above creates an immediate increase in the gloom below.
“On this afternoon in particular I felt the change acutely. A darkness, that did not seem to be merely the darkness due to time, stole down the pit’s mouth and permeated adits, shafts, galleries—everywhere and everything.
“My light was still burning blue, but beyond it, down in the great, gaping chasm, not ten feet from him, and away along the narrow, winding passage separating me from the rest of the gang, all was black—a denser black than I had conceived possible. I was staring around, too fascinated to go on with my work, when something icy cold gripped my fingers, and, looking down, I saw a big, white hand lying on the top of mine. I gave a yell and dropped my shovel—whereupon the hand vanished.
“‘What’s the matter now, curse you!’ George said angrily. ‘If you keep on hindering me like this, I’ll tell the overseer. See if I don’t.’
“‘The place is haunted,’ I gasped. ‘A hand caught hold of mine just now.’
“‘A hand! Rot. What next?’ And George forced a laugh.
“‘I’m certain it was a hand,’ I said, ‘and it had a ring on like my brother Dick’s.’
“‘You’ve got Dick on the brain, which is only natural, seeing that you was fond of him, and he only just dead. In a few days’ time you will get over it and laugh at your present fears. There’s no hands here but yours and mine, lad!’
“‘Aren’t there?’ I said quietly. ‘Then what is that just below yours on the pick.’