When I was twenty years younger, I worked in Balleswidden mine, near St. Just. One night I was workan' away for dear life, the sweat going over me like rain. I was in good heart, because for every stroke of my tool I heard three or four clicks from the knackers, workan' away ahead of me. By the sound, they seemed very near. After a few strokes the ground crumbled down loose and easy, and I found that I had broken into a vug. My eyes were dazzled at first with the glistening of the bunches of crystals of all colours which hung down from the roof and sides of the place, but when I rubbed my eyes and looked sharper into the inner end, there I espied three of the knackers. They were no bigger, either one of them, than a good sixpenny doll; yet, in their faces, dress, and movements, they had the look of hearty old tinners. I took most notice of the one in the middle. He was settan' down on a stone, his jacket off, and his shirt sleeves rolled up. Between his knees he held a little anvil, no more than an inch square, yet as complete as you ever saw in a smith's shop. In his left hand he held a boryer, about the size of a darning-needle, which he was sharpening for one of the knackers, whilst the other was waiting his turn to have the pick he held in his hand new crossened, or steeled. When the knacker-smith had finished the boryer to his mind, he rested the end of the hammer-hilt on the anvil, and looked towards me.
"What cheer, comrade," says he, "I couldn't think where the cold wind was coman' from, and my light es blown out."
"Aw! Good mornan', es that you? how are 'ee, an?" says I; "and how is all the rest of the family? I'm brave and glad to see 'ee, and I'll fetch my candle in a wink. Your own es too small", says I, "for to stand the draught I've left into your shop, but I'll give 'ee a pound of my candles, my dear, weth all my heart I will, ef you've a mind to have them!"
In less than no time I turned round again with my candle in my hand. But what dost think? When I looked again in the vug there wasn't one of the knackers to be seen nor their tools neither.
"Arrea, then!" says I, "where are a' gone to an in such a hurry? One might think you'd be glad to shake a paw with an old comrade, who had been workan' on the same lode weth 'ee for months past.
But all I heard was the sound of them, away somewhere in the lode ahead, tee-hee-an' first; then squeakan' like young rabbits that whitenecks had got by the throat.
