family claims some degree of cousinship with every other, until, at
home and abroad, "Cousin Richard" is the name proudly borne by all
Cornishmen.

"One and all!" As the startling cry rang through the black underground
depths it was heard and answered, caught up and repeated, until it
penetrated the remotest corners of the far-reaching level. At its
sound the men of Cornwall, working in stope or drift, breast or
cross-cut, dropped their tools and sprang to obey its summons. By twos
and threes they ran, shouting the magic words that Cornish tongues
have carried around the world. They met in eager groups, each
demanding to know who had first given the alarm and its cause. As none
could answer, and the shouts still came from far away, they swept on,
in ever-increasing numbers and with growing anxiety, for the call of
Cornwall is never given save in an emergency.

In the meantime the fight between two and five rages with unabated
fury; the two, with their backs to a wall, putting up the splendid
defence of trained boxers against the fierce but untaught rush of mere
brutes. Science, however, labored under the disadvantage of fighting
in a gloom that was almost darkness, for Mark Trefethen's lamp had
been extinguished at the outset, and the only one still burning was on
a car standing at a distance from them.

Of a sudden the timber boss heard a groan at his side, and found
himself fighting alone. His comrade had sunk limply to the ground, and
an exultant yell from the others proclaimed their knowledge that they
had no longer to fear his telling blows. As they were about to rush in
and complete their victory, the battle-cry of Cornwall, accompanied by
the flash of many lights, came rolling down the gallery.

Help was close at hand. If Mark Trefethen could hold out for another
minute he would be surrounded by friends. With an answering shout of
"One and all!" he sprang to meet his assailants, and, realizing their
danger, they fled before him. At the same instant the lamp on their
car disappeared, and in the utter darkness that followed Trefethen
could only grope his way back to Peveril's side.

A moment later the flaring lights of the Cornish miners disclosed the
old man, with face battered and bleeding, standing grimly undaunted
beside the motionless form of the newest comer to the mine. The latter
lay unconscious, with an ugly wound on the side of his head, from
which blood was flowing freely. It had been made by a fr