Sappers and Miners Part 78

Gwyn could think no more in that way, for the horror that attacked him at the thought that it meant they must all soon die. Once the idea came to him that he was watching his companions struggling vainly in the black water; but, making a desperate effort, he forced himself to think only of the task they had in hand, and just then he shouted to Joe to turn off to the left, for another opening appeared, and the lad was going past it with his head bent down.

Joe turned off mechanically, his long, lank figure looking strange in the extreme; and as he swung the lanthorns in each hand, grotesque shadows of his tall body were thrown on the wall on either side, and sometimes over the gleaming water which rushed by them, swift in places as a mill-race.

And still the water grew deeper, and no more arrows pointed faintly from the wall. The water was more than waist-deep now, and the chill feeling of despair was growing rapidly upon all. The lads did not speak, though they felt their position keenly enough, but Hardock uttered a groan from time to time, and at last stopped short.

"Don't do that," cried Gwyn, flashing into anger for a moment; but the man's piteous reply disarmed him, and he felt as despairing.

"Must, sir--I must," groaned the man; "I can't do any more. You've been very kind to me, Master Gwyn, and I'd like to shake hands with you first, and say good-bye. There--there's nothing for it but to give up, and let the water carry you away, as it keeps trying to do. We've done all that man can do; there's no hope of getting out of the mine, so let's get out of our misery at once."

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

IN DIRE PERIL.

For a few moments, in his misery and despair, Gwyn felt disposed to succ.u.mb, 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 pa.s.sed 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 s.n.a.t.c.hing 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 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."