“The mines are, of course, free from foul air?”
“Oh, yes; sweet as a nut.”
“But how much farther is it?” said Geoffrey. “Surely we’ve come down a thousand feet.”
“Well, yes; I suppose we have,” said the man, coolly. “I don’t think there’s more than a half-dozen more ladders. Yes, seven,” he said.
These were steadily climbed down, but seemed the longest of them all. At last, however, they stood beside the great sump or water-cistern, which received the end of the vast pumping apparatus, all of which Geoffrey carefully examined with a look of disgust at its primitive character and clumsiness.
Chapter Fourteen.
Pengelly—Miner.
“I should just like to shake hands with you, sir,” said Geoffrey’s guide, wiping his hand carefully upon his flannel trousers after using his fingers to snuff both candles. “I never thought you’d come down half-way—that I didn’t. You’re a plucked un, sir. That’s about what you are, if you’ll excuse me.”