There was in Cornwall a great tin mine called Wheal Glyn that gave employment to many people above and below ground. But there were a few workers in it whom nobody had employed. They were the knockers, whose little pickaxes could often be heard in the old men's learys. No one in Wheal Glyn had ever been fortunate enough to see the knockers except Sampie Tremilling, a tributer, and it happened in this way.
One day, when Sampie was busy near the old men's learys, his work taking him gradually farther and farther away from his fellow tributers, he soon found himself alone. He did not mind this, particularly as he heard just ahead of him the clear knockings of little pickaxes which told him the knockers were hard at work somewhere in the long level where he was working. the farther up the level he went, the more distinct the knockings became.
He stopped to listen and, as he listened, saw a bright light, too bright for candlelight, shining at the far end of the level. Curious to know the nature of this light, he dropped his pickaxe and walked slowly and cautiously along in case he should suddenly come upon a disused shaft. the level was longer than he thought, but the light grew clearer and brighter as he advanced, seeming to compel him to come on. Almost before he knew it, his way was barred by a dead wall through a small round hole of which the light was streaming.
the hole was above his head, but he climbed up and, looking in, saw it was a double gunny. To his huge delight, Sampie saw a score or more of knockers hard at work with pickaxe and shovel. They were proper little miners even to their clothes, Sampie told himself as he watched them working away with all the skill of experienced tributers. In the front of their tiny miners' hats glowed something very soft and bright, but what it was Sampie did not know, only he was certain it was not candlelight. Over their heads was an austull to prevent the rocks from falling down on them.
After a while Sampie turned his glance to the floor of the gunny, which, to his wonderment, was more than half covered with tiny heaps of fire, or what looked like fire. He could not tell exactly what they were, he knew only that they gave no smoke and did not grow less as they burned on the floor, and that each little heap was of different color and brilliancy. Some were red, like the heart of a rose; others were green and more transparent than the waves when the sun shines through them. Some shone white like Cornish diamonds, only with a softer clearer luster, flashing out not only their own fire but reflecting all the other fires around them.
These tiny fires lighted up the whole gunny and made it look like the Little People's country, so Sampie declared, while casting a subdued splendor over the busy miners, who had their backs toward him.
Sampie was so overcome with all he saw that he grew excited and cried out, "Aw, you little dears in there, dinky fires an' all!" No sooner had he given vent to his feelings than there was a scaval-an-gow among the tiny miners. Then one of them rushed forward, touched something in the rock wall, and Sampie suddenly found himself in complete darkness--the feeble glimmer in his own hat being the only light in all that long passage. He waited for the light that had attracted him to shine again. He listened with his ear against the rock wall for the sound of the pickaxes within. But no light came, and, as he could not hear anything save the beating of his own heart, he turned back to his work.
He had been away from it much longer than he had any idea of, and, when he got back to the place where he had dropped his pickaxe, he found his pair in great concern about him. Just as he turned up they were on the point of going to search for him. the miners were all eager to know where Sampie had been.
When Sampie told them of what he had seen and heard, they were almost as excited as he was, but one and all they said what a pity it was he should have disturbed the knockers by an unfortunate exclamation.
"Iss, 'twas a pity," said Sampie mournfully.
"I can't make out what they little fires was you saw burning on the gunny floor," remarked one of the miners. "Did 'em give out any heat?"
"I don't think so," answered Sampie. "An' yet, they was brighter than any fires I ever saw."
"I don't believe they was fires at all," broke in an elderly man standing near.
"What was they then, Daddy Vercoe?" asked a dozen miners eagerly.
Daddy was the oldest miner in Wheal Glyn and a great authority on everything pertaining to the mine. If anybody could unravel a mystery or explain away difficulties, it was Daddy Vercoe.
"I believe they was stones, the sort that kings an' queens have got in their crowns, an' great lords an' ladies do wear on their breasts."
"You don't mean for to say so?" cried all the miners, looking at Daddy in amazement.
"Iss I do! An' I'll tell 'ee why I think so. When I was a croom of a cheeld," he continued as all the miners gathered around him to listen, "I heered my granfer tell my father that Wheal Glyn was richer than folks ever dreamed of. You know my granfer was the first to sink a shaft in this here bal."
the miners nodded.
"Well," Daddy went on, "he sank it close to the old men's learys, an' as he was sinking it he came 'pon a gunny an' out of the black wall of the gunny came little sparks of red, blue, an' white fire. Behind them he heered the knockings of little pickaxes an' the sound of falling stones. Says my granfer to himself, says he, "Tisn't tin an' that kind of trade the dinky knockers be after; 'tis stones that have got fire inside 'em.' My granfer was right, you see."
"Iss," said Sampie, "he was. But are they fire stones worth anything?"
"Worth anything, sonnie?" cried Daddy Vercoe with uplifted hands. "Why, bless thy ignorance, boy! One heap of those dinky fire heaps you saw in the old gunny would have made 'ee as rich as a Jew. An' you could have bought up Wheal Glyn herself, if she was up for sale, an' all the country round into the bargain!"
"My dear life, you don't mean for to say so!" gasped Sampie.
"I do," said Daddy Vercoe solemnly.
"What you have lost, Sampie my dear," cried all the miners, turning upon him their pitying gaze. "Why ever didn't 'ee hold thy tongue?"
"How was I to know that them little knockers was a-going to shut up their light an' leave me in darkness?" asked Sampie, ready to drag his tongue out for having allowed himself to give vent to his feelings at that unfortunate moment. "If ever I get the chance of spying upon 'em again, Ill be as silent as a dummie."
"You may never get the chance again, sonnie," put in Daddy Vercoe gravely. "'Twas a chance of a lifetime. But if ever you do, let me tell 'ee that keeping your tongue quiet isn't all that is wanted to get hold of the little knockers' treasure. They small chaps learned their trade of getting an' keeping when they was Jews. But there is something that can circumvent them," he added as Sampie's face showed disappointment.
"What is that something, Daddy?" asked the miners.
"You know, I s'pose," answered Daddy slowly, and Daddy was always very slow when he wanted to impress his listeners as he did now, "that every now an' again we find down by the Jews' works dinky bronze tools with which the old men used to dig the ore out, an' p'raps hit each other with, which we call thunder axes?" the miners smiled.
"Well," Daddy went on, "if Sampie was to find one of they an' throw it over those little fire heaps, he could have 'em all without asking, an' not one of they little knockers would have the power to prevent him taking their stones."
"Aw, dear," sighed Sampie, "an' I had a little thunder axe in me pocket all the time. I picked it up only this morning, an' I was keeping it for my little brother to play with."
"Keep it in your pocket in case you come upon the knockers again in one of the old gunnies," Daddy advised him. "If you pitch it over them an' their fire stones, you'll be the richest man in all Cornwall!" Sampie Tremilling was again working one day near the old men's learys, but in a level below the one where he had seen the knockers at work in the double gunny. He was away from his pair, and, as he was shoveling up the rubble into a truck, he heard a rasping noise quite close to him. Stopping to listen he saw a pale, gold-green light like the flame of a glowworm shining out of the darkness about six feet from where he was standing.
"There must be an old gunny close to me, an' I didn't know it," said Sampie to himself. "P'raps the little chaps have come 'pon a gulph of they blazing stones down in this level. If they have I'm a made man, for I've got the thunder axe safe here in my pocket." Taking the little thunder axe, he crept noiselessly up the level until he came to the place from whence the yellow-green light was issuing. It came from low down in the rock where there was an opening about three feet wide. It was the entrance to a single gunny, and Sampie, as he stood and looked, saw against the wall facing him a tiny bench on trestles.
At one end of it sat a dinky man in long robes with a black skullcap on his head and a beard of snowy whiteness flowing down to his feet. His features were pronounced, and his skin was brown as cappry leather. He was evidently a gem-cutter and polisher, for he was bending over a stone that gave out scintillating lights as he tried to cut it while holding it in his hand.
Immediately in front of the strange little man were piles of stones like those Sampie had seen on the floor of the double gunny in the upper level, only they were even brighter and more beautiful. Down the length of the bench were rows upon rows of sparkling gems, blazing with all the splendor of an October afterglow.
For a minute or two Sampie watched with all the eyes in his head. He was about to throw the thunder axe over the bench and its treasures when a sound of voices fell on his ears from the roof of the gunny. Looking up he saw a tiny kibble, the smallest he had ever seen, slowly descending from a hole in the gunny until it stopped close to the dinky old man, who did not turn even to look at it.
the kibble was full of little miners, and when they got out, which they did in perfect silence, they proceeded to empty it. At first Sampie thought it was only rubble, but a second glance told him it was a great deal more than that, for, whatever it was, it was iridescent.
"Like a rainbow all scat to bits!" Sampie exclaimed admiringly to himself.
When the kibble was emptied the little old man sitting on the bench said, without stopping his chiseling, "Is that the last of the sweepings?"
"Yes," answered one of the miners, "it is the last."
"Will you be able to finish that gem before the Time?" asked another knocker, watching the gem-cutter trying to cut something dark out of the stone in his hand.
"I do not know," said the old man hoarsely. "I seem unable to free the knot that prevents its beauty flowing. And it is the most beautiful of all the gems."
"You have been in Wheal Glyn a long while, have you not, O Cutter of Stones?" asked another little miner.
"Yes, since before you were," said the old man with a long-drawn sigh, "and I shall have to be here another century if I cannot loosen this knot before the Time. But go your way, my sons, and tell Her that I have cut and polished all the stones that our ancestors brought to this place from the Land of Burning Stones. They are more than enough to build Her throne, even if I cannot crown it with this, the most beautiful of all." the miners went up in their kibble, and when they had gone Sampie remembered the thunder axe in his hand. Leaning forward he flung it over the bench and the stones that blazed upon it. It struck the wall behind the bench and as it struck turned over on its edge and fell with a flash like lightning on the precious stone in the old gem-cutter's hands, then dropped at his feet.
the little old man gazed at it a minute and then at the gem, now lying like a globe of flame in his open palm. With a cry that rang through the gunny he shouted, "It is finished before the Time, and the thunder axe has done it! I am free to go the way and to take my beautiful stones of living fire with me."
"Excuse me, little mister," Sampie broke in, "all they beautiful stones blazing away there on the board like a smelting furnace belong to me, an' take 'em away if you dare!" As his great, rough voice rolled out this bold assertion, the tiny cutter of precious stones rose slowly to his feet, facing the tall, broad-shouldered man. After standing a full minute before Sampie in all the dignity of his minuteness and the gray centuries of his years, he said with a penetrating gaze out of his little black eyes, "How long have my precious stones been yours, pray?"
"Ever since I flung the thunder axe over the board an' you," stammered Sampie, taken aback by the utter calmness of the dinky chap looking up at him with eyes like gimlets. "Daddy Vercoe said I could have 'em all without asking when I had tossed the thunder axe over the fire stones," he added as an inscrutable smile stole over the brown old face uplifted to his.
"Daddy Vercoe was wrong for once," said the gemcutter, stroking his beard, which flowed down all his little length. "the thunder axe you threw has not the power to bind, except at the will of me--its owner. Its special gift is to set free the life imprisoned in the heart of precious stones." Sampie looked bewildered.
"Without its help I could not have sent this stones life burning through its veins." the little man looked at the gem in his hands. "I lost my thunder axe long ago and feared I should never find it again. Then one day one of our little miners saw you pick it up. He at once set up a slock-light in the level where you were working in order to draw your attention."
"Aw! was that why they let me clap eyes on the little heaps of fire stones in the old gunny?" cried Sampie, wrathful at being taken in and made a fool of by the sharp-witted little knockers. "An' was that why you set up your green light to slock me here because you did not get your thunder axe back the first time?" he asked more wrathfully as another inscrutable smile swept over the brown, withered face.
"Whatever did you suppose we did it for?" asked the tiny person, still stroking his beard. "It is not our way to show our treasures to a child of an hour, as you are, without a cause. It was imperative that I should get back the axe to cut the knot of this queen of gems and to let its beauty flow out before the Time, that I might go my way.
"What do 'ee mean, little mister?" asked Sampie, forgetting his anger in wonderment.
"Ah, that is my secret," answered the gem-cutter.
"But can't I have a dozen or so of those fire stones, sir?" begged the miner dolefully, looking with longing eyes at the bench where the scintillating gems were. "I thought I should be as rich as a Jew and have a diggle every day."
"Did you? Well, I am sorry you must be disappointed, but I cannot spare you one of the jewels I have cut and polished. Each one has been done with infinite care and is worth a king's ransom."
"But do 'ee let me have one of the littlest ones to take home along with me just to show that I have seed 'ee polishing stones," pleaded Sampie coaxingly. "I think you might, sir, for I brought 'ee back your little thunder axe, just when you wanted it."
"I am grateful to you for the thunder axe, though you would not have brought it had you known," piped the tiny stonecutter with a curious look in his twinkling eyes. "And to show you that ingratitude is not a fault of ours, I will make you some precious stones from which you may select five." Turning his back on the miner he began chanting, "Thunder axe, thunder axe, come and help me make stones out of this jewel dust here for the great man miner who brought you hither and threw you over my stones of beauty for his own selfish ends." the axe, which had lain on the gunny floor all this while, lifted itself at its master's bidding and sprang into his out-stretched hand. the cutter of gems waved it five times over the rainbow-colored dust, muttering in a language Sampie could not understand. In a minute or two, wonderful, irised globes came whirling toward the miner, who watched their coming with amazed eyes.
"Take the five stones you like best," said the gem-cutter, "and remember that each one is worth more than a hundred acres of land. Choose quickly." It was not an easy matter to choose, as poor Sampie soon found, particularly as each stone seemed more beautiful than its fellows in its dazzling splendor of red orange, and tender gold, green and violet, wonderful blue.
"Which five shall it be?" asked the miner of himself. kneeling by the stones in a trembling rapture of delight. "Drat it if I can tell," he said, his eyes traveling from gem to gem. " 'Tis hard upon a chap to be obliged to choose."
"Make haste," broke in the dinky gem-cutter.
"It shall be these little beauties," cried Sampie, covering five of the globes of light with his great, grimy hand. "No, it shall be that five nearest your dinky feet, little mister, if tis so pleasing to you.
As the miner lifted his hand to lay it over the stones he found himself in complete darkness. He was too surprised even to light his candle, which had gone out. But when he did so and looked around the gunny he saw that he was alone. the little cutter of precious stones had disappeared and had taken with him all his treasures --rainbow dust, thunder axe, and all!
"What a great buffle-head I was," muttered Sampie to himself when he realized what had happened, "not to have held tight to my riches when I had 'em. 'Twas like letting go the real for the shadow, it was. Aw, Sampie Tremilling, my dear, you'll never in all your born days have such a chance to be rich again." Needless to say, Sampie never did, nor did he ever see the little knockers again or hear the sound of their tiny pickaxes. And, what is more, Daddy Vercoe declares that the knockers have forsaken Wheal Glyn.
