"Paul," said the old man to the young journeyman, "was not Fatia Negra
here before us?"
"He has not been through here either to-day or yesterday. It has been my
turn to watch these last two days."
"I am right you see; he is not here," said the girl.
"He _is_ here, I tell you."
"Come Onucz," said the youth, "can Black Face make himself invisible
then? He could not pass here without my knowing it!"
"What do you know about it?" answered the old man, adjusting himself on
the bolting-hutch. "Let the mill go!"
As now the revolving disc or platform began to move, the machinery stood
still, yet the millstone together with the bolting-hutch began slowly to
sink downwards together with those sitting upon it, and after some
moments, disappeared entirely into a dark gulf, the chain unwinding and
rattling after it. Suddenly from the depths below resounded the old
man's voice: "Halt!" Then Paul stopped the mill, hung the chain in an
iron ring and the machinery once more set in motion, raised the
millstone up, Paul fastened the revolving disc to it and it began to
rattle round again so furiously that sparks flew out of it. Now whoever
had any meal to grind might come, he was quite ready for them.
It was a huge subterraneous cavern into which Onucz and Anicza had
descended. At the bottom of this hollow flowed a branch of the mountain
stream which turned the mill and indeed was diverted thither by means of
wooden pipes.
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