trembling so that he could
hardly perform the office, he drew key and matches from his pockets,
nearly, in his agitation, dropping the lamp in the rushing stream that
swept against his legs.

He saved it, though, and struck a match, which went out directly, and
another and another shared its fate. The next burned brightly, though,
and no explosion following, he lit the lamp, trimmed the wick, dropped
the match in the water, where it went out with a faint hiss; and then,
closing the gauze, he held the feeble Davy above his head.

It was a star of hope, though, to him; and so it must have been to
Ebenezer Parks; for as the rays shone out, there came from far behind a
wild, despairing yell, and then, as Philip turned towards it, there was
a fierce hissing rush, the stream doubled in volume, he was swept
against the wall, and it was only by hurrying with it that he was able
to keep his feet.

Twice over he essayed to turn, but the effort was vain. It was
impossible to battle with it. All he could do was to hold his lamp up
so as to guide him from striking against the wall, and go with the
rushing stream, that now increased so in depth that he felt that before
long he might be compelled to swim.

The hours or more that he passed in that flood of rushing waters seemed
afterwards like some terrible confused dream to the young man, for it
was long enough before he found himself in a part where the galleries
took an upward inclination, and he gained a place where, faint and
exhausted, he could rest with the water only about to his knees, and
draw out the map, by whose help he at length made out where he was.

Even then he had a long and arduous trial before he managed to wade to
the foot of the shaft late at night, to find lights burning and the
pumping-engine at its fullest speed, but unable to arrest the steady
rise of the water, which, by the next day, had completely drowned the
workings, though its progress was sufficiently slow to enable the men to
save their lives before it came upon them in the lower seams.

A fortnight elapsed before the pit was once more drained, during which
time Philip had been seriously ill, suffering greatly from the shock.

His first inquiry was for Ebenezer Parks, whose body, however, was not
found for some time, where it had been forced into a cranny by the
stream; and in strange corroboration of the tale Philip Hexton had to
tell, his great muscular hand still grasped the big iron bar