cloud of smoke, and Derrick
could not see whether his signal to the switch-tender had been obeyed or
not.

As Paul crouched on the bottom, at one end of the car, his companion
said,

"I'm going to push her over and let her go down the slope, Polly. If the
trestle hasn't burned away she'll take us through the fire and smoke
quick enough. If there's anybody down there and he's heard the gong and
set the switch, we'll go flying off over the dump. I guess I can stop
her with the brake before she gets to the edge. It's half a mile, you
know. If the switch is open, we'll go like a streak down into the mine
and be smashed into a million pieces. It won't be any worse than being
burned to death, though. Now good-by, old man, if I don't ever see you
alive again. Here goes."

"Good-by, dear Derrick."

Then the crippled lad closed his eyes and held his breath in awful
expectation. Derrick placed one shoulder against the car, gave a strong
push, and, as he felt it move, sprang on one of the bumpers and seized
the brake handle that projected a few inches above its side.

In the mean time the two boys had been missed in the village, and as it
became known that they were still within the breaker, the entire
population, frenzied with excitement, gathered about the blazing
building, making vain efforts to discover their whereabouts, that they
might attempt a rescue.

No men on earth are braver in time of danger, or more ready to face it
in rescuing imperilled comrades, than the miners of the anthracite
collieries. Had they known where to find Derrick and Paul, a score of
stalwart fellows would willingly have dashed into the flames after them.
As it was, no sign that they were still in existence had been
discovered, and the spectators of the fire were forced to stand and
watch it in all the bitterness of utter helplessness.

One man indeed ran up the blazing stairway, and with a mighty blow from
the pick he carried crashed open the door against which Derrick had so
vainly flung himself. Only a great burst of flame leaped forth and drove
him backward, with his clothing on fire and the hair burned from his
face. He was Paul Evert's father.

Upon receipt of the tidings that her boy was shut up in the burning
breaker, without any apparent means of escape, Mrs. Sterling had fallen
as though dead, and now lay, happily, unconscious of his awful peril.
Little Helen sat by her mother's bedside, too stunned and frightened
even to cry.