s a centre and
keeping about thirty inches distant, and so on, round and round till the
channel he cut was as deep as the arm of the pick, and quite clear.

"Feel bad?" he said, pausing for a few moments.

"No, no," cried Abel. "How are they getting on?"

"Better'n me. If we don't look sharp your mate--what did you say he
was--cousin?--'ll be out first."

"I hope so," sighed Abel.

"Now then, shut your eyes, my son," cried the miner. "I'm going to cut
from you now. Lean your head away as much as you can. I've cut the
tire and felloes of the wheel; your head's the nave; now I'm going to
cut the spokes."

_Click, click, click_, went the pick.

"Don't you flinch, my son," cried the man. "I won't hit you."

Abel had winced several times over, for the bright steel tool had
whizzed by him dangerously close; but he grew more confident now, and,
as much as he could for the sheltering hat, he watched the wonderful
progress made by his rescuer, who at the end of a few minutes had deeply
cut two more channels after the fashion of the spokes running from the
centre to the periphery of the imaginary wheel.

After this, a few well-directed blows brought out the intervening snow
in great pieces, and upon these being cleared out another clever blow
broke the gathered snow right up to the young man's left arm, leaving
seven or eight inches below the shoulder clear.

"That's your sort, my son," cried the miner cheerily, chatting away, but
keeping the pick flying the while. "The best way to have got you out
would have been with a tamping iron, making a nice hole, dropping in a
dynamite cartridge, and popping it off. That would have sent this stuff
flying, only it might have blowed you all to bits, which wouldn't have
been pleasant. This is the safest way. How are you gettin' on, mates?"

"All right. He's 'live enough, Bob."

"Work away, then. Look here, my son, I did think of spoking you all
round, but I'm beginning to think it'll be better to keep on at you this
side, and then take you out of your mould sidewise like. There won't be
so much cutting to do, and you'll have one side clear sooner. What do
you say?"

"I want you to go and help your companions," replied Abel faintly.

"Then I'm sorry I can't oblige you," cried the man cheerily. "Look at
that now! This fresh stuff hasn't had time to get very hard. After a
few thawings and freezings it would be like clear solid ice. It's
pretty firm, but--there