“All right,” he said abruptly. “Come along.”
When they were in the shaft house he asked, “Will you go down in the skip or by the ladder?”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly do anything so ignominious as to go down in a bucket, and I’m very agile. How far is it?”
“A hundred feet. I shall only take you to the first level.”
Ora peered down into the black and slanting and apparently bottomless well. A ladder was built flat against one side. A skip full of ore was banging against the sides of the other compartment on its way up. She looked again at the ladder, shuddered, and set her teeth.
Gregory put two candles in his pocket, inserted his long limber body into the narrow aperture and ran down sideways.
“Oh!” gasped Ora. “I can’t do that. Please wait. I—I think I’d better go down backward.”
“By all means. Sit down and turn round. I’ll catch hold of one of your feet and put it on a rung. The rest will be easy.”
Ora followed these instructions gingerly, concluding that the skip would have been more dignified. Then she forgot dignity and only wondered if her bones had gone out of her: she had rolled over on her equatorial zone and was kicking helplessly in the void. But as Gregory caught her feet and planted them safely she set her teeth once more and summoned her pride.
“Glad you have on stout boots,” he said, practically. “We’ve not enough water in the mine for pumps, but it’s a little damp underfoot. Wait a minute while I light a candle.” He struck a match and performed this feat; how, Ora could not even guess; but she glanced down sideways and saw that he was holding the lighted candle up at arm’s length.