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"I say," said the Assistant to the Manager, a week later, "do you recollect Germinal?" "Yes. 'Queer thing, I thought of it In the cage when that balk went by. Why?" "Oh, this business seems to be Germinal upside down. Janki was in my veranda all this morning, telling me that Kundoo had eloped with his wife Unda or Anda, I think her name was." "Hillo!
Kundoo crawled through the gap and found himself in a propped gallery by the simple process of hitting his head against a beam. "Do I know the pits or do I not?" chuckled Janki. "This is the Number Five; go you out slowly, giving me your names. Ho! Rahim, count your gang! Now let us go forward, each catching hold of the other as before."
What khad is there that I do not know, from the bottom of the shaft to the end of the last drive? Is it the Baromba khad, the oldest, or the Twenty-Two where Tibu's gallery runs up to Number Five? 'Hear the old fool talk! said Kundoo, nodding to Unda. 'No gallery of Twenty-Two will cut into Five before the end of the Rains. We have a month's solid coal before us. The Babuji says so. 'Babuji!
'This is one unbaked brick, and this is another and another. Kundoo is a young man let him come forward. Put a knee upon this brick and strike here. When Tibu's gang were at dinner on the last day before the good coal ended, they heard the men of Five on the other side, and Five worked their gallery two Sundays later or it may have been one. Strike there, Kundoo, but give me room to go back.
Kundoo was a great workman, and did his best not to get drunk, because, when he had saved forty rupees, Unda was to steal everything that she could find in Janki's house and run with Kundoo to a land where there were no mines, and every one kept three fat bullocks and a milch-buffalo. While this scheme ripened it was his custom to drop in upon Janki and worry him about the oil-savings.
Kundoo crawled through the gap and found himself in a propped gallery by the simple process of hitting his head against a beam. 'Do I know the pits or do I not? chuckled Janki. 'This is the Number Five; go you out slowly, giving me your names. Ho! Rahim, count your gang! Now let us go forward, each catching hold of the other as before.
"This is one unbaked brick, and this is another and another. Kundoo is a young man let him come forward. Put a knee upon this brick and strike here. When Tibu's gang were at dinner on the last day before the good coal ended, they heard the men of Five on the other side, and Five worked their gallery two Sundays later or it may have been one. Strike there, Kundoo, but give me room to go back."
They would all go to their homes to-morrow. Where were their men? Little Unda, her cloth drenched with the rain, stood at the pit-mouth calling down the shaft for Kundoo. They had swung the cages clear of the mouth, and her only answer was the murmur of the flood in the pit's eye two hundred and sixty feet below. "Look after that woman!
Somebody rose quietly and began walking over the coals. It was Janki, who was touching the walls with his hands. 'Where is the ledge? he murmured to himself. 'Sit, sit! said Kundoo. 'If we die, we die. The air is very bad. But Janki still stumbled and crept and tapped with his pick upon the walls. The women rose to their feet. 'Stay all where you are.
What khad is there that I do not know, from the bottom of the shaft to the end of the last drive? Is it the Baromba khad, the oldest, or the Twenty-Two where Tibu's gallery runs up to Number Five?" "Hear the old fool talk!" said Kundoo, nodding to Unda. "No gallery of Twenty-Two will cut into Five before the end of the Rains. We have a month's solid coal before us. The Babuji says so." "Babuji!
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