ter had risen, and risen, until, touched by a ray
of sunlight, it threw back at us a sinister, mocking gleam, as the eye
of a demon might. And father was down there in that black grave! That
was my one coherent thought as, after the first wild look, I suddenly
grasped one of the ropes of the cage that still swung above the
shaft's mouth, and swung myself aboard. My reckless hand was on the
starting lever when Mr. Rutledge, with a cry, and a spring as quick as
my own had been, landed beside me. He snatched my hand from the lever.
"Are you mad?" he asked, sternly, "What are you going to do?"

"I am going down to my father; I am going to bring him up!" I cried
wildly.

As though the words had held a charm to break the spell of silence,
they were followed by a babel of groans, of outcries and entreaties.
It seemed that all the surface population of Crusoe were already on
the spot; all, and especially the women, were wild to go to the rescue
of the doomed men below. Doomed! Ah, they were past that now--all of
them--all! It was this solemn thought that suddenly calmed me, that
made me yield quietly to Rutledge's guiding hand as he drew me from
the cage. "There are men here," he said. "Stand back, all of you
women." He took his place in the cage again; then he looked around on
the assembled men.

"Dick," he said, signalling out a square-built Scotch miner, "stand
beside the hoist, and do exactly as I tell you."

"I wull that!" returned the miner, taking the station indicated.

"I'm going down as far as the water will allow," Rutledge explained.
"Who comes with me?" A dozen men volunteered instantly. Rutledge
selected two who stepped into the cage beside him.

"There may be fire-damp--gas," the Scotchman said, warningly.

"I know; there is, probably; I'll look out for that. Lower away!"
Rutledge had lighted one of the miner's candles which was suspended by
a cord from a crack in the bottom of the cage. We above leaned over
that dreadful well and watched the tiny flicker of light as the cage
swung down and down toward the sinister eye that came steadily up as
it went down. The tiny flame burned bravely for a space, then it went
out as suddenly as if snuffed out by invisible fingers while the water
below moved and sparkled as it might have done if the owner of the
demoniac eye had laughed. "Choke damp!" said the Scotch miner
succinctly, and began hoisting up.

I was crouching on the ground with my face hidden on Joe's sh