James Starr examined, as well as the insufficient light would permit,
the sides of the dark shaft, which were covered by a partly rotten
lining of wood.

Arrived at the fifteenth landing, that is to say, half way down,
they halted for a few minutes.

"Decidedly, I have not your legs, my lad," said the engineer, panting.

"You are very stout, Mr. Starr," replied Harry, "and it's something too,
you see, to live all one's life in the mine."

"Right, Harry. Formerly, when I was twenty, I could have gone
down all at a breath. Come, forward!"

But just as the two were about to leave the platform, a voice,
as yet far distant, was heard in the depths of the shaft.
It came up like a sonorous billow, swelling as it advanced,
and becoming more and more distinct.


"Halloo! who comes here?" asked the engineer, stopping Harry.

"I cannot say," answered the young miner.

"Is it not your father?"

"My father, Mr. Starr? no."

"Some neighbor, then?"