that instant, two young men from another group of mines stepped
forward; "If you please, sir," said one of them, "we don't want no
money, and we can't act as guides, not being acquainted with the lay
of things around here, but we'd like to help you, for we like Mr.
Houston, and we're his friends."

Their offer was gladly accepted, and preparations were hastily and
silently made by the little party. Wet cloths and sponges were
fastened across the lower portion of their faces, to prevent their
inhaling the smoke and gases, while ropes were securely tied about
their waists, the ends of which were to be held by persons on the
outside. A frequent jerking of the rope would assure those outside
that all was right in the tunnel, but a suspension of the jerking
would indicate that that person had been overcome by the gases, and he
would be immediately drawn out to the fresh air, by those at the outer
end of the line.

Pausing only for a bright smile of encouragement to Leslie, Lyle led
the way into the tunnel, followed by Morton and Ned, the two miners
bringing up the rear, and all disappeared in the subterranean
darkness.

CHAPTER XLV.

When Bull-dog's voice rang out above the storm, with its warning to
Lyle, Houston, standing near the entrance of the shaft, alert,
watchful for the first indication of danger, heard the words
distinctly and acted instantly.

Having given the usual danger signal, he shouted, "To the tunnels,
boys, for your lives! The mine has been fired, go to the tunnels!"

On returning from giving the agreed signal to Jack and Mike, he heard
Bull-dog's voice above him in the shaft, calling his name and shouting
the warning.

"Come, my boy," shouted Houston in return, "we'll start for the
tunnels."

"Yes sir, I'm a comin', I know the way, but don't you wait fer me
'cause you may git catched."

"I shall not leave you, Bull-dog, we'll go together," Houston
answered, waiting for the little figure gliding swiftly toward him in
the darkness.

Suddenly the rocks by which they were surrounded began to quiver and
vibrate; there was a deafening roar followed by a terrific crash, and
an instant later, a mass of loosened rock was tearing its way through
the shaft.

"Cling to the wall, Bull-dog," shouted Houston, at the same time
seizing a projecting ledge with a vise-like grip, and swinging himself
upward, where he hung by his hands and wrists. It was a horrible
position, but his powerful, athletic