'I'm sorry I can't stay with you,' said Peter; 'but I want to go and pay the parson a visit this evening, and besides I've had a bit of a headache all day.' 'I'm sorry for that, father,' said Curdie. 'Oh, it's not much. You'll be sure to take care of yourself, won't you?' 'Yes, father; I will. I'll keep a sharp look-out, I promise you.' Curdie was the only one who remained in the mine. About six o'clock the rest went away, everyone bidding him good night, and telling him to take care of himself; for he was a great favourite with them all. 'Don't forget your rhymes,' said one. 'No, no,' answered Curdie. 'It's no matter if he does,' said another, 'for he'll only have to make a new one.' 'Yes: but he mightn't be able to make it fast enough,' said another; 'and while it was cooking in his head, they might take a mean advantage and set upon him.' 'I'll do my best,' said Curdie. 'I'm not afraid.' 'We all know that,' they returned, and left him. CHAPTER 8 The Goblins For some time Curdie worked away briskly, throwing all the ore he had disengaged on one side behind him, to be ready for carrying out in the morning. He heard a good deal of goblin-tapping, but it all sounded far away in the hill, and he paid it little heed. Towards midnight he began to feel rather hungry; so he dropped his pickaxe, got out a lump of bread which in the morning he had laid in a damp hole in the rock, sat down on a heap of ore, and ate his supper. Then he leaned back for five minutes' rest before beginning his work again, and laid his head against the rock. He had not kept the position for one minute before he heard something which made him sharpen his ears. It sounded like a voice inside the rock. After a while he heard it again. It was a goblin voice--there could be no doubt about that--and this time he could make out the words. 'Hadn't we better be moving?' it said. A rougher and deeper voice replied: 'There's no hurry. That wretched little mole won't be through tonight, if he work ever so hard. He's not by any means at the thinnest place.' 'But you still think the lode does come through into our house?' said the first voice. 'Yes, but a good bit farther on than he has got to yet. If he had struck a stroke more to the side just here,' said the goblin, tapping the very stone, as it seemed to Curdie, against which his head lay, 'he would have been through; but he's a couple of yards past it now, and if he follow the lode it will be a week before it leads him in. You see it back there--a long way. Still, perhaps, in case of accident it would be as well to be getting out of this. Helfer, you'll take the great chest. That's your business, you know.' 'Yes, dad,' said a third voice. 'But you must help me to get it on my back. It's awfully heavy, you know.' 'Well, it isn't just a bag of smoke, I admit. But you're as strong as a mountain, Helfer.'