Part 78 (2/2)

”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 s.n.a.t.c.h 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, hoa.r.s.ely, 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.”

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