the underground city.txt

这是我自己写的wince程序

"What do you think of that, Harry?" said his father, his brow darkening.



"I think, father," returned Harry, "that someone has had some

interest in trying to prevent Mr. Starr from coming to the place

where you invited him."



"But who," exclaimed the old miner, "who could have possibly

guessed enough of my secret?"  And Simon fell into a reverie,

from which he was aroused by his wife.



"Let us begin, Mr. Starr," she said.  "The soup is already getting cold.

Don't think any more of that letter just now."



On the old woman's invitation, each drew in his chair,

James Starr opposite to Madge--to do him honor--the father

and son opposite to each other.  It was a good Scotch dinner.

First they ate "hotchpotch," soup with the meat swimming

in capital broth.  As old Simon said, his wife knew no rival

in the art of preparing hotchpotch.  It was the same with the

"cockyleeky," a cock stewed with leeks, which merited high praise.

The whole was washed down with excellent ale, obtained from

the best brewery in Edinburgh.



But the principal dish consisted of a "haggis," the national pudding,

made of meat and barley meal.  This remarkable dish, which inspired

the poet Burns with one of his best odes, shared the fate of all

the good things in this world--it passed away like a dream.



Madge received the sincere compliments of her guest.

The dinner ended with cheese and oatcake, accompanied by a few

small glasses of "usquebaugh," capital whisky, five and twenty

years old--just Harry's age.  The repast lasted a good hour.

James Starr and Simon Ford had not only eaten much, but talked

much too, chiefly of their past life in the old Aberfoyle mine.



Harry had been rather silent.  Twice he had left the table,

and even the house.  He evidently felt uneasy since the incident

of the stone, and wished to examine the environs



of the cottage.  The anonymous letter had not contributed

to reassure him.



Whilst he was absent, the engineer observed to Ford and his wife,

"That's a fine lad you have there, my friends."



"Yes, Mr. Starr, he is a good and affectionate son,"

replied the old overman earnestly.



"Is he happy with you in the cottage?"



"He would not wish to leave us."



"Don't you think of finding him a wife, some day?"



"A wife for Harry," exclaimed Ford.  "And who would it be?

A girl from up yonder, who would love merry-makings and dancing,

who would prefer her clan to our mine!  Harry wouldn't do it!"



"Simon," said Madge, "you would not forbid that Harry should

take a wife."



"I would forbid nothing," returned the old miner, "but there's

no hurry about that.  Who knows but we may find one for him--"



Harry re-entered at that moment, and Simon Ford was silent.



When Madge rose from the table, all followed her example,

and seated themselves at the door of the cottage.  "Well, Simon,"

said the engineer, "I am ready to hear you."



"Mr. Starr," responded Ford, "I do not need your ears, but your legs.

Are you quite rested?"



"Quite rested and quite refreshed, Simon.  I am ready to go with you

wherever you like."



"Harry," said Simon Ford, turning to his son, "light our safety lamps."



"Are you going to take safety lamps!" exclaimed James Starr,

in amazement, knowing that there was no fear of explosions

of fire-damp in a pit quite empty of coal.



"Yes, Mr. Starr, it will be prudent."



"My good Simon, won't you propose next to put me in a miner's dress?"



"Not just yet, sir, not just yet!" returned the old overman,

his deep-set eyes gleaming strangely.



Harry soon reappeared, carrying three safety lamps.

He handed one of these to the engineer, the other to his father,

and kept the third hanging from his left hand, whilst his right

was armed with a long stick.





"Forward!" said Simon Ford, taking up a strong pick, which was leaning

against the wall of the cottage.



"Forward!" echoed the engineer.  "Good-by, Madge."



"GOD speed you!" responded the good woman.



"A good supper, wife, do you hear?" exclaimed Ford.  "We shall

be hungry when we come back, and will do it justice!"





CHAPTER V SOME STRANGE PHENOMENA





MANY superstitious beliefs exist both in the Highlands and Lowlands

of Scotland.  Of course the mining population must furnish its

contingent of legends and fables to this mythological repertory.

If the fields are peopled with imaginary beings, either good

or bad, with much more reason must the dark mines be haunted

to their lowest depths.  Who shakes the seam during tempestuous

nights? who puts the miners on the track of an as yet unworked

vein? who lights the fire-damp, and presides over the terrible

explosions? who but some spirit of the mine?  This, at least,

was the opinion commonly spread among the superstitious Scotch.



In the first rank of the believers in the supernatural

in the Dochart pit figured Jack Ryan, Harry's friend.

He was the great partisan of all these superstitions.

All these wild stories were turned by him into songs,

which earned him great applause in the winter evenings.



But Jack Ryan was not alone in his belief.  His comrades affirmed,

no less strongly, that the Aberfoyle pits were haunted,

and that certain strange beings were seen there frequently,

just as in the Highlands.  To hear them talk, it would have

been more extraordinary if nothing of the kind appeared.

Could there indeed be a better place than a dark and deep coal

mine for the freaks of fairies, elves, goblins, and other

actors in the fantastical dramas?  The scenery was all ready,

why should not the supernatural personages come there to

play their parts?



So reasoned Jack Ryan and his comrades in the Aberfoyle mines.

We have said that the different pits communicated with

each other by means of long subterranean galleries.

Thus there existed beneath the county of Stirling

a vast tract, full of burrows, tunnels, bored with caves,

and perforated with shafts, a subterranean labyrinth,

which might be compared to an enormous ant-hill.



Miners, though belonging to different pits, often met, when going

to or returning from their work.  Consequently there was a constant

opportunity of exchanging talk, and circulating the stories

which had their origin in the mine, from one pit to another.

These accounts were transmitted with marvelous rapidity,

passing from mouth to mouth, and gaining in wonder as they went.



Two men, however, better educated and with more practical

minds than the rest, had always resisted this temptation.

They in no degree believed in the intervention of spirits,

elves, or goblins.  These two were Simon Ford and his son.

And they proved it by continuing to inhabit the dismal crypt,

after the desertion of the Dochart pit.  Perhaps good Madge,

like every Highland woman, had some leaning towards the supernatural.

But she had to repeat all these stories to herself, and so she did,

most conscientiously, so as not to let the old traditions be lost.



Even had Simon and Harry Ford been as credulous as their companions,

they would not have abandoned the mine to the imps and fairies.

For ten years, without missing a single day, obstinate and immovable

in their convictions, the father and son took their picks, their sticks,

and their lamps.  They went about searching, sounding the rock

with a sharp blow, listening if it would return a favor-able sound.

So long as the soundings had not been pushed to the granite of the

primary formation, the Fords were agreed that the search, unsuccessful

to-day, might succeed to-morrow, and that it ought to be resumed.

They spent their whole life in endeavoring to bring Aberfoyle back

to its former prosperity.  If the father died before the hour of success,

the son was to go on with the task alone.



It was during these excursions that Harry was more particularly

struck by certain phenomena, which he vainly sought to explain.

Several times, while walking along some narrow cross-alley,

he seemed to hear sounds similar to those which would be produced

by violent blows of a pickax against the wall.



Harry hastened to seek the cause of this mysterious work.

The tunnel was empty.  The light from the young miner's



lamp, thrown on the wall, revealed no trace of any recent work with pick

or crowbar.  Harry would then ask himself if it was not the effect

of some acoustic illusion, or some strange and fantastic echo.

At other times, on suddenly throwing a bright light into a

suspicious-looking cleft in the rock, he thought he saw a shadow.

He rushed forward.  Nothing, and there was no opening to permit

a human being to evade his pursuit!



Twice in one month, Harry, whilst visiting the west end of the pit,

distinctly heard distant reports, as if some miner had exploded

a charge of dynamite.  The second time, after many careful researches,

he found that a pillar had just been blown up.



By the light of his lamp, Harry carefully examined

the place attacked by the explosion.  It had not been made

in a simple embankment of stones, but in a mass of schist,

which had penetrated to this depth in the coal stratum.

Had the object of the explosion been to discover a new vein?

Or had someone wished simply to destroy this portion of the mine?

Thus he questioned, and when he made known this occurrence

to his father, neither could the old overman nor he himself

answer the question in a satisfactory way.



"It is very queer," Harry often repeated.  "The presence of an

unknown being in the mine seems impossible, and yet there can

be no doubt about it.  Does someone besides ourselves wish to find

out if a seam yet exists?  Or, rather, has he attempted to destroy

what remains of the Aberfoyle mines?  But for what reason?

I will find that out, if it should cost me my life!"



A fortnight before the day on which Harry Ford guided

the engineer through the labyrinth of the Dochart pit,

he had been on the point of attaining the object of his search.

He was going over the southwest end of the mine, with a large

lantern in his hand.  All at once, it seemed to him that a light

was suddenly extinguished, some hundred feet before him,

at the end of a narrow passage cut obliquely through the rock.

He darted forward.



His search was in vain.  As Harry would not admit a supernatural

explanation for a physical occurrence, he concluded that

certainly some strange being prowled about in the pit.

But whatever he could do, searching with the greatest

care, scrutinizing every crevice in the gallery, he found

nothing for his trouble.



If Jack Ryan and the other superstitious fellows in the mine had seen

these lights, they would, without fail, have called them supernatural,

but Harry did not dream of doing so, nor did his father.

And when they talked over these phenomena, evidently due to a

physical cause, "My lad," the old man would say, "we must wait.

It will all be explained some day."



However, it must be observed that, hitherto, neither Harry

nor his father had ever been exposed to any act of violence.

If the stone which had fallen at the feet of James Starr

had been thrown by the hand of some ill-disposed person,

it was the first criminal act of that description.



James Starr was of opinion that the stone had become detached

from the roof of the gallery; but Harry would not admit of such

a simple explanation.  According to him, the stone had not fallen,

it had been thrown; for otherwise, without rebounding, it could

never have described a trajectory as it did.



Harry saw in it a direct attempt against himself and his father,

or even against the engineer.





CHAPTER VI SIMON FORD'S EXPERIMENT





THE old clock in the cottage struck one as James Starr and his two

companions went out.  A dim light penetrated through the ventilating

shaft into the glade.  Harry's lamp was not necessary here, but it

would very soon be of use, for the old overman was about to conduct

the engineer to the very end of the Dochart pit.



After following the principal gallery for a distance of two miles,

the three explorers--for, as will be seen, this was a regular exploration--

arrived at the entrance of a narrow tunnel.  It was like a nave,

the roof of which rested on woodwork, covered with white moss.

It followed very nearly the line traced by the course of the river Forth,

fifteen hundred feet above.



"So we are going to the end of the last vein?" said James Starr.





"Ay!  You know the mine well still."



"Well, Simon," returned the engineer, "it will be difficult to go

further than that, if I don't mistake."



"Yes, indeed, Mr. Starr.  That was where our picks tore out the last

bit of coal in the seam.  I remember it as if it were yesterday.

I myself gave that last blow, and it re-echoed in my heart more

dismally than