scribe the horrible uproar. It seemed to us that our last hour had come. Mad with fear, we gazed at one another, questioningly.
"The evil genius of the mine's taking his revenge," cried one.
"It's a hole broke through from the river above," I ventured to say.
The professor said nothing. He merely shrugged his shoulder, as though he could have argued out the matter in full day, under the shade of a mulberry tree, eating an onion.
"It's all folly about the genius of the mine," he said at last, "The mine is flooded, that's a sure thing. But what has caused the flood, we down here can't tell..."
"Well, if you don't know what it is, shut up," cried the men.
Now that we were dry and the water was not touching us, no one wanted to listen to the old man. The authority which his coolness in danger had gained for him was already lost.
"We shan't die from drowning," he said at last, quietly; "look at the flame in your lamps, how short it is now."
"Don't be a wizard, what do you mean? Speak out."
"I am not trying to be a wizard, but we shan't be drowned. We are in a bell of air, and it is this compressed air which stops the water from rising. This airshaft, without an outlet, is doing for us what the diving bell does for the diver. The air
