sharing.

Derrick had not gone far in his search for Paul Evert when his lamp,
which had been burning dimly for some minutes, though unnoticed in his
excitement, gave an expiring flash and went out. The boy's impulse was
to return to the foot of the slope for a new supply of oil. Then he
remembered that he had a canful with him, the one he had almost
unconsciously snatched up when he started on his present errand. Filling
the lamp in the dark was slow work, and occupied several minutes of
valuable time.

While thus engaged his ear caught the sound of rushing waters that
seemed to come from out of the darkness behind him. Nearer and nearer it
came, and it grew louder and louder, as with trembling hand he struck a
match and relighted his lamp. Its first gleam fell upon a wall of black
waters rolling rapidly towards him, up the gangway, breast-high, and
cutting off all chance of escape.

What should he do? It was useless to run; the waters could run faster
than he. It would be impossible to stem that fierce current and fight
his way out against it. Must he, then, die, alone in that awful place
with no sound save the roar of waters in his ears? Could it be that he
should never again see his mother and little Helen and the sunlight? Was
his life over, and must he be carried away by the black flood that was
reaching out to seize him?

Like a flash these thoughts passed through his mind, and like another
flash came a ray of hope. Close beside him was the mouth of a chute
belonging to a breast that he knew followed the slant of the vein upward
for a great distance.

He sprang towards it, flung his oil-can into it, and in another moment,
though the chute was above his head, he had climbed the slippery wall
and entered it. As he drew himself up beyond their reach the savage
waters made a fierce leap after him, and swept on with an angry,
snarling roar. A few minutes later they had risen above the mouth of the
chute and completely filled the gangway. Derrick was entombed, and the
door was sealed behind him.

In the mean time a similar escape was being effected but a short
distance from him, though he knew nothing of it. Monk Tooley and four
other men working near him in a distant part of the mine received no
intimation of the outbreak of waters and the disaster that was about to
overwhelm them. Their first warning of trouble came with the stoppage of
the air-currents that supplied them with the very breath of life.

For