True to his word, the old gentleman met Mr Clearemout the following morning at nine o’clock, and accompanied him down into the mine.
Their descent was unmarked by anything particular at first. They wore the usual suit of underground clothing, and each carried a lighted candle attached to his hat. After descending about thirty fathoms they left the main shaft and traversed the windings of a level until they came to a place where the sound of voices and hammers indicated that the miners were working. In a few seconds they reached the end of the level.
Here two men were “driving” the level, and another—a very tall, powerful man—was standing in a hole driven up slanting-ways into the roof, and cutting the rock above his head. His attitude and aspect were extremely picturesque, standing as he did on a raised platform with his legs firmly planted, his muscular arms raised above him to cut the rock overhead, and the candle so placed as to cause his figure to appear almost black and unnaturally gigantic.
“Stay a minute, Captain Dan,” said Mr Donnithorne. “That, Mr Clearemout, is the man I spoke of—what think you of his personal appearance?”
Clearemout did not reply for a few minutes, but stood silently watching the man as he continued to wield his heavy hammer with powerful strokes—delivering each with a species of gasp which indicated not exhaustion, but the stern vigour with which it was given.
“He’ll do,” said Clearemout in a decided tone.
“Hallo! James,” shouted Mr Donnithorne.
“Hallo! sir,” answered the man looking back over his shoulder.
“There’s a gentleman here who wants to speak to you.”
The miner flung down his tools, which clattered loudly on the hard rock, as he leaped from his perch with the agility of one whose muscles are all in full and constant exercise.