“No,” said the Colonel, smiling, “I had not been told; but I shrewdly suspected that this was the case, especially after hearing the faint murmuring sound in places.”
“But we shall be having some catastrophe,” cried the Major—“the water breaking in.”
The Colonel smiled.
“I don’t think we need fear that. The galleries are all arch-roofed and cut through the solid rock, and, as far as I have seen, there has not been a single place where the curves have failed. If they have not broken in from the pressure of the millions of tons of rock overhead, why should they from the pressure of the water?”
“Oh, but a leak might commence from filtration, and gradually increase in size,” said the Major.
“Possibly, my dear boy,” replied the Colonel; “but water works slowly through stone, and for the next hundred years I don’t think any leakage could take place that we should not master with our pumping gear. Oh, absurd! There is no danger. Just try and think out how long this mine has been worked. I am quite ready to believe that it was left us by the ancient Britons who supplied the Phoenicians.”
“May be, we cannot tell,” said the Major, warmly; “but you cannot deny that we found the mine full of water.”
“No, and I grant that if we leave it alone for a hundred years it will be full again.”
“From the sea?”
“No; from filtration through the rock. The water we pumped out was fresh, not salt. There, my dear Jollivet, pray don’t raise a bugbear that might scare the men and make them nervous. They are bad enough with what they fancy about goblins and evil spirits haunting the mine. Even Hardock can’t quite divest himself of the idea that there is danger from gentry of that kind. Don’t introduce water-sprites as well.”