Chapter 17

CHAPTER XVII THE "MONK"

THIS name revealed everything to the old overman.
It was that of the last "monk" of the Dochart pit.

In former days, before the invention of the safety-lamp, Simon had
known this fierce man, whose business it was to go daily, at the risk
of his life, to produce partial explosions of fire-damp in the passages.
He used to see this strange solitary being, prowling about the mine,
always accompanied by a monstrous owl, which he called Harfang,
who assisted him in his perilous occupation, by soaring with a lighted
match to places Silfax was unable to reach.

One day this old man disappeared, and at the same time also,
a little orphan girl born in the mine, who had no relation
but himself, her great-grandfather. It was perfectly evident
now that this child was Nell. During the fifteen years,
up to the time when she was saved by Harry, they must have lived
in some secret abyss of the mine.

The old overman, full of mingled compassion and anger, made known to
the engineer and Harry all that the name of Silfax had revealed to him.
It explained the whole mystery. Silfax was the mysterious being so long
vainly sought for in the depths of New Aberfoyle.

"So you knew him, Simon?" demanded Mr. Starr.

"Yes, that I did," replied the overman. "The Harfang man,
we used to call him. Why, he was old then! He must be fifteen
or twenty years older than I am. A wild,

savage sort of fellow, who held aloof from everyone and was known
to fear nothing--neither fire nor water. It was his own fancy
to follow the trade of 'monk,' which few would have liked.
The constant danger of the business had unsettled his brain.
He was prodigiously strong, and he knew the mine as no one else--
at any rate, as well as I did. He lived on a small allowance.
In faith, I believed him dead years ago."

"But," resumed James Starr, "what does he mean by those words,
'You have robbed me of the last vein of our old mine'?"

"Ah! there it is," replied Simon; "for a long time it
had been a fancy of his--I told you his mind was deranged--
that he had a right to the mine of Aberfoyle; so he became
more and more savage in temper the deeper the Dochart pit--
his pit!--was worked out. It just seemed as if it was his
own body that suffered from every blow of the pickax.
You must remember that, Madge?"

"Ay, that I do, Simon," replied she.

"I can recollect all this," resumed Simon, "since I have seen the name
of Silfax on the door. But I tell you, I thought the man was dead,
and never imagined that the spiteful being we have so long sought
for could be the old fireman of the Dochart pit."

"Well, now, then," said Starr, "it is all quite plain.
Chance made