“Miles,” said the man calmly, and Gwyn gave his companion a nudge. “I’ve been in some of ’em myself. Why, I know of one long ’un—an adit as goes from mine to mine to get rid of the pumpings—and it’s somewhere about thirty miles.”
“Hear that, Joe?” whispered Gwyn.
“Yes, I hear,” said the lad, breathlessly.
“I don’t say there’s anything of the kind here, of course; but I know one place where there’s more than sixty miles o’ workings, and it would take some time to go all over that, wouldn’t it?”
The boys were silent, and the engineer went on.
“Oh yes, that’s right enough,” he said; “and to my mind it’s rather bad for any folk strange to go down a mine they know nothing about.”
Joe started violently.
“You see it’s all noo to ’em,” continued the engineer, “and they may wander away into places they know nothing about, and never find their way out again.”
“Gwyn!” groaned Joe.
“Hush! Be quiet!” was whispered back.