re are too
many factors in the problem of which we are yet ignorant. We do not
know how badly the shaft is choked up; we do not know the condition
of the air in the mine. To be frank with you, I think the chances are
against rescuing the boy alive. The mine soon fills with poisonous
gases when the air supply is cut off."

"Are you doing all that can be done?" she asked. "Will more men, more
money, more of anything, help you in your work?"

"We are doing all that can be done," he answered her. "The men are
working bravely. We need nothing."

"How soon will you be able to go down and begin the search?"

The man thought for a moment before replying.

"To-morrow," he said, uncertainly. "I think surely by to-morrow."

She sank back into the carriage-seat, appalled by the length of time
named. She had hoped that an hour or two at the farthest would enable
them to reach the bottom of the shaft.

"We will push the work to the utmost," said Martin, as he hurried
away. "Possibly we shall be able to get in sooner."

Goodlaw and Mrs. Burnham sat for a long time in silence, watching the
men at their labor. Word had been passed among the workers that the
missing boy was Mrs. Burnham's son, and their energetic efforts were
put forth now for her sake as well as for the lad's. For both mother
and son held warm places in the hearts of these toiling men.

The mouth of the shaft had been finally uncovered, a space cleared
around it, and the frame of a rude windlass erected. They were
preparing to remove the debris from the opening.

Conway came to the carriage, and, in a voice broken with emotion, told
the story of Ralph's heroic effort to save a human life at the risk of
his own. He had little hope, he said, that Ralph could live till they
should reach him; but he should be the first, he declared, to go into
the mine in search of the gallant boy.

At this recital Mrs. Burnham wept; she could restrain her tears no
longer.

At last Goodlaw persuaded her to leave the scene. He feared the effect
that continued gazing on it might have upon her delicate nerves.

The flashing of the lanterns, the huge torches lighting up the
darkness, the forms of men moving back and forth in the smoky
atmosphere, the muscular and mental energy exhibited, the deep
earnestness displayed,--all this made up a picture too dramatic and
appalling for one whose heart was in it to look at undismayed.

Arrangements were made for a messenger service to ke