Part 39 (1/2)
”There, then it is right,” cried Gwyn. ”I knew it was. What an old jolly wet blanket you are, Joe!”
”But it can't be right,” cried Joe, stubbornly. ”Here you get on a bit of a shelf and stand there and the beam goes down twenty feet.”
”Nay, it don't,” said Dina.s.s, interrupting; ”only twelve foot.”
”Well it's all the same--it might be twenty feet, mightn't it?”
”I s'pose so, sir. Ones I've seen only goes twelve foot at a jog.”
”Twelve feet, then; and then it jigs up again,” cried Joe.
”Ay, just like a pump. Man-engines they call 'em,” said Dina.s.s; ”but I have heard 'em called farkuns.”
[Note: _Fahr-Kunst_. First used in the Harz Mountain mines.]
”Then you've seen more than one?” cried Gwyn.
”More than one, sir! I should think I have!”
”And they do go well?”
”Oh, yes, sir, they go well enough after a fas.h.i.+on.”
”Can't,” cried Joe.
”But they do, sir,” said Dina.s.s. ”I've seen 'em and gone down deep mines on 'em.”
”Now you didn't--you went down twelve feet,” said Joe, more stubbornly than ever.
”Yes, sir, twelve foot at a time.”
”And then came up twelve feet.”
”That's right, sir.”
”Then what's the good of them if they only give you a ride up and down twelve feet?”
”To take you to the bottom.”
”But they can't,” cried Joe.
”I dunno about can't!” said the man, gruffly; ”all I know is that they do take 'em up or down whenever you like, and saves a lot of time, besides being (I will say that for 'em) a regular rest.”
”What, through just stepping on a shelf of the beam and stopping there?”
”Who said anything about stopping there?” cried the man, roughly. ”You steps on to the shelf and down goes the beam twelve foot, and you steps off on to a bit o' platform. Up goes the beam and brings the next shelf level with you, and on you gets to that. Down you go another twelve foot, or another twenty-four. Steps off, up comes the next shelf, and you steps on. Down she goes again, and you steps on and off, and on and off, going down twelve foot at a time, till you're at the bottom, or where you want to be part of the way down at one of the galleries.”
”Of course,” cried Gwyn, triumphantly. ”I knew it was German, all right, only I got a bit foggy over it when you said it wasn't.”
”But--”
”I knew there was something. We forgot about stepping off and letting the beam rise.”