ges which led into the inner vaults. It was all in such utter
confusion that no one could find out where the large vault lay.

At last it struck Ivan that underneath a mass of coal and slack he
heard a faint, whimpering sound. He said to the men, "Dig this spot."

At once they set to work to clear away the rubbish, and as they
cleared the company's men began to recognize different landmarks,
which convinced them they were at the right place.

"Yes, here is the door which leads to the resting-stage." The pressure
of the air had shut the door close, the side walls had fallen in, and
so these, who had been safe from the conflagration, had been buried
alive.

The whimpering cry for help, like that of an infant's wail, was heard
now more distinctly. The door, too, was plainly visible, and as it was
swung off its hinges Ivan took a light and peered into the dark cavern
below.

No cry of joy reached him; the rescued men had not the strength to
make a sound. They were about a hundred in all. They lay there
still, speechless. Life had almost ebbed away, but not altogether.
They had suffered the tortures of hunger and thirst, they had been
suffocated by the foul air, broken-hearted, despairing. And now
these human skeletons, when they saw the light, could hardly raise a
finger to show they were alive. A heart-rending whimper, in which
there was no human tone, rose from the hundred parched throats. When
the explosion came they had been thrown upon their faces. Their
lamps had gone out, and it would have been madness to relight them.
They had remained in total darkness. After a little the danger of
their situation increased. Soon they began to feel that the water
was gradually--slowly at first--filling the space which served them
as a refuge and a grave, and this space or vault was, they knew, a
fathom deeper than the pit. They tried--for at first they were not
so weak--to get hold of some boards and plugs that lay about, and
out of these they made a sort of stage or platform, upon which they
all clambered, and there waited for death--the death that might come
either through hunger, foul air, or drowning. When their rescuers
opened the door the water had reached the threshold and touched the
bottom of the wooden stage.

Ivan directed that the poor creatures should be carried carefully and
silently out of their living grave. They did not press forward, for
they could not stand. Each man lay where he was, and waited until his