New Lount was quite a shallow pit and when, at this time, an uphill drift was being driven (year uncertain), there was anxious speculation as to whether it was getting rather closer to the surface than the surveyors had estimated. So, the opportunity was seized to exploit the nervous disposition of a certain official with a view to spreading a bit of panic amongst the management. This gentleman was used to have his snap at a junction just down from the drift, following which he would enjoy a 30-minute observation of the inside of his eyelids. So, it was arranged that some tubs, bringing equipment down to the heading, should also bring a collection of turfs. In addition - the piece de resistance - a goat was somehow smuggled down. At the strategic moment, when the official was known to be partaking of his lunch, the turfs were duly piled on to the conveyor belt and the goat was turned loose. The telephone was rung to make sure that he hadn't settled down to his siesta and he got up to answer it just in time to see the passage of the aforementioned flora and fauna. Everything went according to plan: there was instant panic, the phones were red hot and a major search was set in motion to find where the roof had collapsed, bringing down the field above. The capture of the goat became a saga in its own right. It had clearly taken a great liking to its new environment and successfully outmanoeuvred all attempts to restore it to the surface. To cut a long story short, it was eventually manhandled on to the main drift belt and sent out with the coal.