“Truly no, it is scarce high enough for my legs to walk in without any body above them,” said Oliver. “However, lead the way, and I will follow.”
The captain stooped and made his way through a winding passage where the roof was so low in many places that they were obliged to bend quite double, and the back and neck of the young doctor began to feel the strain very severely. There were, however, a few spots where the roof rose a little, affording temporary relief. Presently they came to the place where the men were at work. The ground was very soft here; the men were cutting through soft granite!—a condition of the stone which Oliver confessed he had never expected to see. Here the lights burned very badly.
“What can be the matter with it?” said Oliver, stopping for the third time to trim the wick of his candle.
Captain Dan smiled as he said, “You asked me, last night, to take you into one of the levels where the air was bad—now here you are, with the air so bad that the candle will hardly burn. It will be worse before night.”
“But I feel no disagreeable sensation,” said Oliver. “Possibly not, because you are not quite so sensitive as the flame of a candle, but if you remain here a few hours it will tell upon you. Here are the men—you can ask them.”
The two men were resting when they approached. One was old, the other middle-aged. Both were hearty fellows, and communicative. The old one, especially, was ruddy in complexion and pretty strong.
“You look well for an old miner,” said Oliver; “what may be your age?”
“About sixty, sur.”
“Indeed! you are a notable exception to the rule. How comes it that you look so fresh?”
“Can’t say, sur,” replied the old man with a peculiar smile; “few miners live to my time of life, much less do they go underground. P’raps it’s because I neither drink nor smoke. Tom there, now,” he added, pointing to his comrade with his thumb, “he ain’t forty yit, but he’s so pale as a ghost; though he is strong ’nuff.”