Part 83 (1/2)

And so the time went on, first one and then the other descending to find that the water was steadily rising, and after each examination there was a thrill of dread as the looker-on asked himself, Would they win the race?

How long was it? Was it night, now, or day?

Questions, these, which they could not answer, and at last, with their miserable state of despondency increasing, they lay half-stupefied, listening for the help which, as the hours wore slowly by, seemed as if it would never come.

The end was unexpected when it did arrive, after what, in its long-drawn agony, seemed like a week. Gwyn had sent a message by the dog imploring for news, for he said the water was very close to them now, as it was lapping the top of the cavity, and every now and then br.i.m.m.i.n.g over and slowly filling the bottom of the sloping cavern.

All at once, heard plainly above the rush of the air and apparently close at hand, there was the loud striking of hammers upon stone.

Gwyn thrust his head into the opening at once, and shouted, his heart bounding as a hollow-sounding cheer came back from just the other side of the wedge.

”Who is it?” cried Gwyn, with the despondency which had chilled him taking flight.

”Vores,” came back. Then--”Look here, sir! I can't break through this stone. I've no room to move and strike a blow. How far can you get away from it?”

”About sixty feet,” said Gwyn, after a few moments' thought.

”Any place where you can shelter from flying stones?”

”Oh, yes, several.”

”Then I'm going back for a cartridge, and I shall put it under the stone, light a slow fuse and get away. It must be blasted.”

”But you'll blow the roof down and stop the way.”

”No fear of that, sir. If I do, it will only be in pieces that we can get rid of this end, you that. It must be done, there's no other chance.”

”Is there plenty of room out your way?”

”Sometimes. Here and there it's a close fit to get through. I've been nearly fast more than once. Now, then, I'm going.”

”Must you go?” said Gwyn, mournfully.

”Yes, but I'll soon be back. Keep a good heart, and we'll have you out now.”

”Is my father there?”

”Yes, sir, and the Major, and your mother, too.”

Gwyn's emotion choked his utterance for a time. Then he spoke, but no answer came, and the feeling of loneliness and despair that came over him was horrible.

He backed out and repeated the conversation, Joe giving a faint cheer, and Hardock shaking his head.

”He may bury us alive,” he said, ”but the smoke and damp can't hurt us, for this wind will sweep it all out at once. How long will he be?”

It seemed quite an hour before Gwyn, who had crept right up the hole till he could touch the stone, heard any sound, and then it came all at once, when he was beginning to lose all hope again.

The sound was the tap of a hammer upon stone, so near that he felt the jar.

”Mr Gwyn, sir,” came from close by.