For a few moments, in his misery and despair, Gwyn felt disposed to
succumb, and he looked piteously at Joe, who stood drooping and bent,
with the bottoms of the lanthorns touching the water. Then the natural
spirit that was in him came to the front, and with an angry shout he
cried,--
"Here, you, sir, keep those lights up out of the water. Don't want us
to be in the dark, do you?"
There is so much influence in one person's vitality, and the way in
which an order is given, that Joe started as if he had had an electric
current passed through him. He stood as straight up as he could for the
roof, and looked sharply at Gwyn, as if for orders.
At the same time the dog began to bark, and struggled to get free.
"Oh, very well," said Gwyn, letting go of the dog's legs; "but you'll
soon want to get back."
Down went Grip with a tremendous splash, and disappeared; but he rose
again directly, and began to swim away with the stream and was soon out
of sight.
"Oh, Joe, Joe, what have I done!" cried Gwyn. "He'll be drowned--he'll
be drowned!"
"Ay, sir, and so shall we before an hour's gone by," said Hardock,
gloomily.
"I can't help it--I must save him," cried Gwyn; and snatching one of the
lanthorns from Joe, he waded off after the swimming dog.
"We can't stop here by ourselves, Sam," cried Joe. "Come along."
Hardock uttered a groan.
"I don't want to die, Master Joe Jollivet--I don't want to die," he said
pitifully.
"Well, who does?" cried Joe, angrily. "What's my father going to do
without me when he's ill. Come on. They'll be finding the way out, and
leaving us here."
"Nay, Master Gwyn wouldn't do that," groaned Hardock. "He'd come back
for us."
Gwyn's pursuit of the dog had done one thing; it had started his
companions into action, and they, too, waded with the stream pressing
them along, till away in the distance they caught sight of the light
Gwyn bore, shining like a faint spark in the darkness or reflected in a
pale shimmering ray from the hurrying water.
For how long they neither of them knew, they followed on till Gwyn's
light became stationary; and just then Hardock raised his, and uttered
an exclamation.
"I know where we are now," he cried, as he raised his lanthorn and
pointed to one of his white arrows. "It looks different with the place
half full of water, but we're close to that dead end that runs up."
Just then they heard the barking of the dog.
"And that's where he has got to," continued Hardock. "How did he come
to think of going there?"
"Ahoy--oy--oy--oy!" came halloaing from Gwyn, who had long been aware
from their lights that his companions were following him.
They answered, and dragged their weary way along, for the water still
deepened, and in his impatience Gwyn came back to meet them.
"Come along quickly," he cried; "the dog has gone into that short
gallery which rises up. Did you hear him barking?"
"Yes."
"Just as if he had found a rabbit. He leaped up on the dry part at
once, and if we follow there is plenty of room for us as well."
"Beyond the water?" panted Joe.
"Yes. At the far end."
Trembling with eagerness, they splashed through the now familiar way,
conscious of the fact that a current of air was setting in the same
direction--a foul hot wind, evidently caused by the water filling up the
lower portions of the mine, and driving out the air; but no one
mentioned it then.
The entrance of the place they sought was reached, and they were
waist-deep, the water sweeping and swirling by with such force that, as
Gwyn entered, lanthorn in hand, and Joe was about to follow, a little
wave like an imitation of the bore which rushes up some rivers, came
sweeping along and nearly took him off his feet, while Hardock, with a
cry to his companions to look out, clung to the corner.
Gwyn turned in time to see Joe tottering, and caught at his arm, giving
him a sharp snatch which dragged him in through the low archway where
the water, though deep, was eddying round like a whirlpool. Then
together they extended their hands to Hardock and he was dragged in.
"Runs along there now like a mill-race," panted the man. "How did you
manage, Mr Gwyn?"
"It was only going steadily when I followed Grip, and he swam in easy
enough."
"Must be coming in faster," groaned Hardock. "Oh, my lads, my lads, say
your prayers now, and put in a word for me; for I haven't been the man I
ought to have been, and I know it now we're shut up in this gashly
place."
"Don't, don't talk like that," cried Gwyn, wildly.
"I must, my lad, for the water's rising faster, and in a few minutes we
shall be drowned."
"Then come on with the stream and let's find a higher place," cried Joe.
"Nay, we aren't got strength enough to go on. Better stay where we
are."
"Hi! Grip! Grip! Grip!" cried Gwyn, holding up the lanthorn and
wading farther in, but there was no answering bark.
"Come along, Sam," said Joe, hoarsely, as he opened his lanthorn door to
let the water he had got in, drain out. "Here, look, it's shallower
where he is."
"Ay, it do rise, you see," groaned Hardock, who was now completely
unmanned.
"Come on!" shouted Gwyn; "it isn't up to my knees here."
They followed till, toward the dead end where the old miners had ceased
working in the far back past, the lode had narrowed and run up into a
flattened crevice, up which Gwyn began to clamber.
"Follow me," he said; "I'm quite clear of the water. It's a natural
crack. There has been no picking here, and it comes up at a steep
slope."
He climbed on, the others following him; and he called to the dog again,
but there was still no reply.
"Are you clear of the water?" he cried.
"Yes, sir, four foot above it," said Hardock, who came last, "but it's
rising fast."
"I say," cried Gwyn, wildly, "is there a way out here?"
"Nay, sir, this is only a blind lead. What is it up where you are?"
"Like a flattened-out hole with the rock all covered with tiny crystals.
There must be a way up to the surface here; don't you feel how the wind
comes by us?"
"Yes; my light flickers, but it burns dull," said Joe.
"Ay, and it will come sharper yet," said Hardock; "the water's driving
it all before it. Don't you feel how hot it is?"
"Yes."
"Maybe it'll suffocate us before the water comes."
"Grip! Grip! Grip!" shouted Gwyn; and then, after waiting, he made his
companions' hearts beat by crying back to them loudly, "I don't care,
there is a way out here."
"Can't be, sir."
"But Grip has gone through."
"Nay, sir, he's wedged himself up, and he's dead, as we shall soon be."
"Oh, Joe, Joe!" roared Gwyn, passionately; "kick out behind at that
miserable, croaking old woman. There is a way out, for I can feel the
hot air rushing up by me."
"Ah!" groaned Hardock, "it's very well for you young gents up there; but
I'm at the bottom, and the water's creeping up after me. To think after
all these years o' mining I should live to be drowned in a crack like
this!"
Just then a loud rustling and scrambling noise was heard.
"What is it, Ydoll? What are you doing?"
"There's a big stone here, wedged across the slope, or I could get
higher. It's loose, and I think I can--hah!"
The lad uttered an exultant shout, for with a loud rattle the flat block
gave way, and came rattling and sliding down.
"Got it!" cried Gwyn. "I'm passing it under me. Come close, Joe, and
catch hold, as it reaches my feet."
Joe climbed a little higher, by forcing his knees against the wall of
the crack facing him, and, reaching up, he got hold of the block and
lowered it, till, fearing that if he let go, it might injure Hardock, he
bade him come higher and pass it beneath him.
"Nay, nay, let me be," groaned Hardock; "it's all over now. I'm spent."
"Let it fall on him to rouse him up," shouted Gwyn.--"You, Sam, lay hold
of that stone."
The man roused himself, and, climbing higher over the ragged, sharp,
prickly crystals, reached up and took hold of the stone, passed it under
him, and it fell away down for a few feet, and then there was a sullen
splash.
The light showed Gwyn plainly enough that they were in a spot where a
vein of some mineral, probably soapstone, had in the course of ages
dissolved away; and, convinced that the dog had found his way to some
higher cavern, and in the hope that he might find room enough to force
his way after, he scrambled and climbed upward, foot by foot, pausing
every now and then to shout back to his companions to follow.
There was plenty of room to right and left; the difficulty was to find
the widest parts of the crack, whose sides were exactly alike, as if the
bed-rock had once split apart, and pressure, if applied, would have made
them join together exactly again. And this engendered the gruesome
thought that if that happened now they would be crushed out flat.
There was plenty of air, too, for it rushed by now in a strong current
which made the flame of the candle in the lanthorn he pushed on before
him flutter and threaten to go out. For the air was terribly impure, as
shown by the dim blue flame of the candles, and so enervating that the
perspiration streamed from the lad's face, and a strange, dull, sleepy
feeling came over him, which he tried desperately to keep off.
Roughly speaking, the crack ascended at an angle of about fifty degrees,
turning and zigzagging after the fashion of a flash of lightning, the
greatest difficulty being to pass the angles.
But Gwyn toiled on, finding that the great thing he dreaded--the
closing-in of the sides--did not occur, but trembling in the narrowest
parts on account of one who was to follow.
"Joe will easily manage it," he said to himself; "but Sam will stick."
"Time enough to think of that," he muttered, "if he does."
"Can you get higher?" panted Joe, after they had been creeping slowly
along for some time.
"Yes, yes; but there's an awkward turn just here. All right, it's wider
on my left. Hurrah! I've got into quite a big part. Come on!"
Joe climbed on, pushing his lanthorn before him, till it was suddenly
taken and drawn up, when, looking above him with a start, he saw his
friend's face looking down upon him, surrounded by a pale, bluish glow
of light.
"Want a hand?" cried Gwyn.
"No; I can do it," was the reply, and Joe climbed beyond an angle to
find himself in a sloping, flattened cave, whose roof was about four
feet above his head; how far it extended the darkness beyond the
lanthorn concealed.
"Come on, Sam," cried Gwyn, as he looked down the slope he had ascended
expecting to see the man's face just below; but it was not visible, and,
saving the hissing of the hot wind and the strange gurgling of rushing
water, there was not a sound.
"He's dead!" cried Joe, wildly.
"No, no; don't say that," whispered Gwyn. "It's too horrible just when
we are going to escape;" and, without pausing, he lowered himself over
the angle of the rock and began to descend.
"Hold the light over," he said. "Ah, mind, or you'll have it out."
For the candle flickered in the steady draught which came rushing up
from below, and it had to be drawn partly back for shelter.
"Sam!" cried Gwyn, as he descended; but there was no reply, and the
dread grew within the lad's breast as he went on down into the darkness.
"I shall be obliged to come back for the light," he shouted. "I can see
nothing down here. How far is he back?"
"I don't know," said Joe, despairingly. "I thought he was close behind
me. Shall I come down with the lanthorn?"
"Yes, you must, part of the way--to help me. No, I can just touch his
lanthorn with my foot--here he is!"
"All right?" faltered Joe.
"I think so," replied Gwyn, slowly. "Here, Sam Hardock, what's the
matter?--why don't you come on?"
"It's of no good," said the man, feebly; "I'm done, I tell you. Why
can't you let me die in peace?"
"Because you've got to help us out of this place?"
"I? Help you?"
"Yes; it's your duty. You've no right to lie like that, giving up
everything."
"I'm so weak and sleepy," protested the man.
"So was I, but I fought it all down. Now then, climb up to where he
is."
"I--I can't, Mr Gwyn; and, besides, it's too narrow for me."
"How do you know till you try? Come: up with you at once."
"Must I, Mr Gwyn, sir?"
"Yes, of course; so get up and try."
Sam Hardock groaned, and began to creep slowly up the steep slope, Gwyn
leading the way; but at the end of a minute the man subsided.
"It's of no use, sir; I can't do it. I haven't the strength of a rat."
"Keep on; it will come," cried Gwyn. "Keep on, sir, and try. You must
get to the top, where Joe Jollivet is."
"No, no; let me die in quiet."
"Very well; when I have got you into a good dry place. You can't die in
peace with the cold black water creeping over you."
"N-no," said Hardock, with a shiver.
"Come on, then, at once," cried Gwyn; and, unable to resist the
imperious way in which he was ordered, the poor fellow began to struggle
up the narrow rift, while Gwyn, keeping his fears to himself, trembled
lest the place should prove too strait.
Twice over Hardock came to a stand; but at a word from Gwyn he made
fresh efforts, the way in which the lad showed him the road encouraging
him somewhat; till at last, panting and exhausted, he dragged himself
beyond the last angle, and rolled over upon the stony slope where Joe
had been holding his lanthorn over the dark passage, and looking down.
"We can go no farther till he's rested," whispered Gwyn.
"No; but look how the water's rising. How long will it be before it
reaches up to here?"
Gwyn shook his head, and listened to the murmur of the rising flood,
which sounded soft and distant; but the rush of wind grew louder,
sweeping up the cavity with the loud whistling sound of a tempest.
Gwyn rose to his knees, trimmed his light, and said less breathlessly
now,--
"Let Sam rest a bit, while we try and find how Grip went."
And he held up the light and shaded his eyes.
There was no need of a painted white arrow to point the way, for the
whistling wind could be felt now by extending a hand from where they lay
in shelter; and as soon as Gwyn began to creep on all-fours towards the
upper portion of the sloping cavity in which they lay, the fierce
current of air pressed against him as the water had when he was wading a
short time before.
"Better keep the lanthorn back in shelter," said Gwyn, hastily; "it
makes mine gutter down terribly."
He handed Joe the ring, and once more went on to find the wide opening
they had reached rapidly contract till once more it resembled the jagged
passage through which they had forced themselves.
The slope was greater, though, and the way soon became a chimney-like
climb, changing directions again and again, while in the darkness the
wind whistled and shrieked by him furiously, coming with so much force
that it felt as if it was impelling him forward.
And still he went on climbing along the tunnel-like place till further
progress was checked by something in front; and with the wind now
tearing by him with a roar, he felt above and below the obstacle,
finding room to pass his arm beyond it readily; but further progress was
impossible, the passage being completely choked by the block of stone
which must have slid down from above.