The shells continued to tear up the streets until mid-day; after which all was peace for some hours.  The information reached the ears of the ladies in the mines; and the inevitable consequence was an exodus of the bolder spirits therefrom, to get a glimpse of the sky; for (as the poet says):—­

    ... the sky we look up to, though glorious and fair,
    Is looked up to the more because Heaven lies there;

and had a superlative fascination for people doomed to deplore their nearness to “another place.”  The ladies granted interviews with almost disconcerting alacrity; their narratives of life down below, its joys and drawbacks, its good intentions, its climatic conditions and difficulties, were glowing and diversified.  Some were happy and cheerful, while others, fastidious and accustomed to feathers, would never be happy until they were—­dead!  The chorused howling of so many young ladies and gentlemen, ranging in ages from a fortnight to three or four (years, not fortnights) kept reasoning people awake o’ nights, it was protested; and other inconveniences like the water—­tributaries of the Styx—­in the mines made the atmosphere, and the blankets sometimes, rather humid.  These little discomforts, however, were felt only on one or two floors; and the fair sex in the main were grateful for the efforts made to make things cosy for everybody.  Sanitation was of course the paramount difficulty; but altogether to their eternal credit must redound the indomitable energy and labours of the floor managers, the mine employees generally, and even the directors, in their new sphere of caterers for half the population.  It was a heavy task, all things considered, but it was done.  Through the long, sweltering day the men wrought and perspired.  Many a missile hissed near them; many a risk they ran; but they went on doing their duty with unflinching devotion.  What was chivalrous in their nature was stirred, and the good, latent in most men, shone out brilliantly in all.  The ladies acknowledged it freely.  Unexpected little dainties—­sent down in the “Lift”—­were supplied them to strengthen their toleration of a home in a warm corner.  Baskets, with the “compliments” of Mr. Rhodes, bunches of grapes, more precious (and softer, too) than the encrusted gems around, were relished down in the mines and worth going still deeper for.

The horrisonous whiz of the ostrich eggs from Kamfers Dam was heard again, and back to the “Lift” flew the ladies.  Not a few preferred to wait until ‘night was again descending’ to descend along with it.  One or two sturdy amazons refused point blank to be terrorised into descending at all; they expressed a preference for surface risks.  This attitude was not by any means unintelligible.  The babel down below was incessantly audible; as was the subdued roar of machinery; the heated competition entailed in the pegging out of claims; the high words excited by the petty larceny of pilferers who borrowed