To Win or to Die Part 5

"Is this to be the end of all our golden hopes? Oh, heaven help us!

What shall we do? The air is growing hotter; we have nearly exhausted it all, and suffocation is coming on fast. I can't, I won't die yet.

Help! help! help!"

Those three last words came in a hoa.r.s.e faint wail that sounded smothered and strange.

"Hush!" cried the other; "be a man. You are killing yourself. The air is not worse. I can breathe freely still."

There was a horrible pause, and then, in pitiful tones: "I am fighting down this fearful feeling of cowardice, but it is so hard--so hard to die so soon. Not twenty yet, and the bright world and all its hopeful promise before one. How can you keep like that? Are you not afraid to die?"

"Yes," came in a low, sad whisper; "but we must not die like this. Tell me you can breathe yet?"

"Yes," came in the husky, grating tones; "better and better now I am still."

"Then there is hope. We are on the track; others will come after a time, and we may be dug out."

"Hah! I dare not think it. I say."

"Yes?"

"Do you think those wretches have been caught by the fall as well?"

"If they were near they must have been."

"Yes, and we heard them."

"No, no," sighed the other; "those were patches of snow falling that we heard."

There was silence then, save that twice over a soft whisper was heard, and then a low, deep sigh.

"I say."

"Yes?"

"I feel sure that air must come to us. I can breathe quite easily still."

"Yes."

"Then we must try and bear it for a time. I'm going to believe that we may be dug out. Shall we try to sleep, and forget our horrible position?"

"Impossible, my lad. For me, that is. You try."

"No; you are right. I couldn't sleep. But, yes, I can breathe better still. There must be air coming in from up above. Well, why don't you speak? Say something, man."

"I cannot talk."

"You must--you shall, so as to keep from thinking of our being--oh, help! help! help!"

"Man, man! don't cry out in that horrible way;" and one shook the other fiercely, till he sobbed out, "Yes; go on. I am a coward; but the thought came upon me, and seemed to crush me."

"What thought? That we must die?"

"No, no," groaned the other in his husky voice; "that we are buried alive."

Once more there was silence, during which the elder and firmer grasped the hand of his brother in adversity. "Yes, yes," he whispered, "it is horrible to think of; but for our manhood's sake keep up, lad. We are not children, to be frightened of being in the dark."

"No; you are right."

"Here, help me sweep away the snow from under us. No, no. Here is the waterproof sheet. We can drag it out--yes, I can feel the sledges.

Let's drag out those blankets."

"No, no, don't stir; you may bring down the snow roof upon our heads. I mean, yes. I'll try and help you."

They worked busily for a few minutes, and then knelt together upon what felt like a soft couch.

"There's food, and the snow for water; it would be long before we should starve. Why are you so silent now? Come, we must rest, and then try to cut our way out when the daylight comes."

"The daylight!" said the other, with a mocking laugh.

"Yes; we may see a dim dawn to show us which way to tunnel."

"Ah, of course!"

"Could you sleep now?"

"No, no; we must talk, or I shall go off my head. That brute hurt me so, it has made me rather strange. Yes, I must talk. I say: G.o.d bless you, old fellow! You saved my life from those wretches, and now you're keeping me from going mad. I say! The air is all right."

"Yes; I can breathe freely, and I am not cold."

"I am hot. I say, let's talk. Tell me how you came to be here."

"Afterwards; the words would not come now. You tell me how you came."

"Yes; it will keep off the horrors; it's like a romance, and now it does not seem to be true. And yet it is, and it happened just as if it were only yesterday. I never thought of coming out here. I was going to be a soldier."

He spoke in a hurried, excited way, and the listener heard him draw his breath sharply through his teeth from time to time, as if he shivered from nervous dread.

"I was not fit for a soldier. Fate knows best. See what a coward I am."

"I thought you brave."

"What!"

"For the way in which you have fought and mastered the natural dread; but go on."

"Oh, no; it seems nonsense to talk about my troubles at a time like this."

"It is not. Go on, if you can without hurting yourself more."

"I'll go on because it will hurt me more. It will give me something else to think of. Can you understand my croaking whisper?"