“That was a topper for him, Ydoll,” said Joe, as they stood outside. “Phew! what a hot, stuffy place it is!”
“We were the first there, Joe,” said Gwyn, who had not heard his companion’s words. “But what was he going to do?”
“Who going to do—that chap?”
“Yes. I’m sure he meant mischief of some kind. I’ll speak to father. He won’t interfere with the people coming to-day, because it’s like a sight, this beginning: but afterwards he’ll have to give orders for no one but the work-people to be about.”
“Hullo, what’s this?” cried Joe.
For a shout arose, and a man stood forward from the crowd, making signals.
“I know: they want the steam turned on.”
Gwyn stepped back to the mouth of the temporary engine-house, told the driver, and he connected a band with the shaft; this started another long band, and the power was communicated to the pump, with the result that a huge wheel began to turn, a massive rod was set in motion, and a burst of cheers arose; for, with a steady, heavy, clanking sound, the first gallons of water were raised, to fall gushing into the cistern-like box, and then begin to flow steadily along the adit; the boys, after a glance or two down the deep shaft, now one intricacy of upright ladder and platform, hurrying off to where a series of ladders had been affixed to the face of the cliff, down which they went, to reach a strongly-built platform at the mouth of the adit.
It was rather different from the spot on which Gwyn had knelt a few months before, waiting for help to come and rescue him from his perilous position, and he thought of it, as he descended the carefully-secured ladders, connected with the rock face by means of strong iron stanchions.
“I say, Joe,” he cried, as they descended, “better than hanging at the end of a rope. Why, it’s safe as safe.”