there's no other
chance."

"Is there plenty of room out your way?"

"Sometimes. Here and there it's a close fit to get through. I've been
nearly fast more than once. Now, then, I'm going."

"Must you go?" said Gwyn, mournfully.

"Yes, but I'll soon be back. Keep a good heart, and we'll have you out
now."

"Is my father there?"

"Yes, sir, and the Major, and your mother, too."

Gwyn's emotion choked his utterance for a time. Then he spoke, but no
answer came, and the feeling of loneliness and despair that came over
him was horrible.

He backed out and repeated the conversation, Joe giving a faint cheer,
and Hardock shaking his head.

"He may bury us alive," he said, "but the smoke and damp can't hurt us,
for this wind will sweep it all out at once. How long will he be?"

It seemed quite an hour before Gwyn, who had crept right up the hole
till he could touch the stone, heard any sound, and then it came all at
once, when he was beginning to lose all hope again.

The sound was the tap of a hammer upon stone, so near that he felt the
jar.

"Mr Gwyn, sir," came from close by.

"Yes, here."

"I've got the cartridge, and I'm going to wedge it under the stone, but
it's going to be a hard job to light the match in this strong wind.
Now, you go back, and when you're all safe I'll do my work and get safe,
too, for it will be like a great cannon going off at both ends at once.
How long will it take you?"

"Two minutes," said Gwyn.

"I'll count two hundred, and then begin."

Gwyn shuffled back, gave his news, and the trio of prisoners crept
behind angles of the cavern, Gwyn taking the light; and then they waited
what seemed to be an hour, with the conclusion growing that Vores had
been unable to light the fuse, and had gone back.

"Sam!" shouted Gwyn at last.

"Ay, ay, sir."

"You both stay where you are; I'm going to crawl up to the mouth of the
hole, and speak to Vores."

"Nay, stay where you are," cried Hardock. "It may be an hour before the
charge is fired. We don't know what trouble he has to get it to--"

A deafening roar broke Hardock's speech in two; and to Gwyn it seemed as
if he had received a violent blow on both ears at once. Then in a dull,
distant way he heard pieces of stone rattling, and there was perfect
silence; the wind had ceased to roar and whistle, and Gwyn began to
struggle, for he felt as if a hand had suddenly clutched his throat, and
he knew he was suffocating.

Th