“Tired? nonsense!” interrupted Simon Ford; “Madge could go ten times as far, if necessary. But once more, Mr. Starr, wasn’t my communication worth your trouble in coming to hear it? Just dare to say no, Mr. Starr, dare to say no!”
“Well, my old friend, I haven’t felt so happy for a long while!” replied the engineer; “the small part of this marvelous mine that we have explored seems to show that its extent is very considerable, at least in length.”
“In width and in depth, too, Mr. Starr!” returned Simon Ford.
“That we shall know later.”
“And I can answer for it! Trust to the instinct of an old miner! It has never deceived me!”
“I wish to believe you, Simon,” replied the engineer, smiling. “As far as I can judge from this short exploration, we possess the elements of a working which will last for centuries!”
“Centuries!” exclaimed Simon Ford; “I believe you, sir! A thousand years and more will pass before the last bit of coal is taken out of our new mine!”
“Heaven grant it!” returned Starr. “As to the quality of the coal which crops out of these walls?”
“Superb! Mr. Starr, superb!” answered Ford; “just look at it yourself!”
And so saying, with his pick he struck off a fragment of the black rock.
“Look! look!” he repeated, holding it close to his lamp; “the surface of this piece of coal is shining! We have here fat coal, rich in bituminous matter; and see how it comes in pieces, almost without dust! Ah, Mr. Starr! twenty years ago this seam would have entered into a strong competition with Swansea and Cardiff! Well, stokers will quarrel for it still, and if it costs little to extract it from the mine, it will not sell at a less price outside.”
“Indeed,” said Madge, who had taken the fragment of coal and was examining it with the air of a connoisseur; “that’s good quality of coal. Carry it home, Simon, carry it back to the cottage! I want this first piece of coal to burn under our kettle.”
“Well said, wife!” answered the old overman, “and you shall see that I am not mistaken.”
“Mr. Starr,” asked Harry, “have you any idea of the probable direction of this long passage which we have been following since our entrance into the new mine?”
“No, my lad,” replied the engineer; “with a compass I could perhaps find out its general bearing; but without a compass I am here like a sailor in open sea, in the midst of fogs, when there is no sun by which to calculate his position.”
“No doubt, Mr. Starr,” replied Ford; “but pray don’t compare our position with that of the sailor, who has everywhere and always an abyss under his feet! We are on firm ground here, and need never be afraid of foundering.”
“I won’t tease you, then, old Simon,” answered James Starr. “Far be it from me even in jest to depreciate the New Aberfoyle mine by an unjust comparison! I only meant to say one thing, and that is that we don’t know where we are.”
“We are in the subsoil of the county of Stirling, Mr. Starr,” replied Simon Ford; “and that I assert as if–”
“Listen!” said Harry, interrupting the old man. All listened, as the young miner was doing. His ears, which were very sharp, had caught a dull sound, like a distant murmur. His companions were not long in hearing it themselves. It was above their heads, a sort of rolling sound, in which though it was so feeble, the successive crescendo and diminuendo could be distinctly heard.
All four stood for some minutes, their ears on the stretch, without uttering a word. All at once Simon Ford exclaimed, “Well, I declare! Are trucks already running on the rails of New Aberfoyle?”
“Father,” replied Harry, “it sounds to me just like the noise made by waves rolling on the sea shore.”
“We can’t be under the sea though!” cried the old overman.
“No,” said the engineer, “but it is not impossible that we should be under Loch Katrine.”
“The roof cannot have much thickness just here, if the noise of the water is perceptible.”