an honor to be proud of."

Trying weakly to return the hand-pressure of the young stranger, Derrick
answered,

"He who has come to our rescue at the risk of his own life must indeed
be my friend!"

Then the mine boss found them, and saying, "Drink this, my poor, brave
lad," gave him a cup of rich warm soup, that had been made nearly an
hour before, and kept warm over a spirit-lamp in the boat, just outside
the heading.

It filled the boy with new life, and when he and the others had drank of
it all that was allowed them, they felt strong enough to crawl out
through the heading.

Derrick was the first to go and the first to be drawn up the slope,
supported in the car by the young man to whom he had just given his
friendship. As they approached the blessed sunlight, and the weary lad
caught its first gleam, still far above him, he pressed the hand of his
companion, and could do nothing but gaze at it. Could it be the very
light of day that he had longed for and prayed for and despaired of ever
seeing again? He knew it must be, but it seemed almost too glorious to
be real.

When they reached the surface, the light that had roused such a tumult
of feeling within him revealed two great tears coursing slowly down
through the grime of his hollow cheeks.

The excitement over Paul Evert's appearance was as nothing compared with
that aroused by the sight of Derrick Sterling. Had not his name been a
household word throughout the land for days? Was he not a brave fellow
whom they all loved? Could they cheer loud enough or long enough to do
him honor, and testify their joy at his deliverance? It did not seem as
though they could; and poor Derrick stood before them, trembling with
strong emotion, without knowing which way to turn or look.

The reporters, who were taking mental notes of his appearance, also
gazed curiously at the young man who had come up from the mine with him,
and on whom he now leaned. He was a miner, of course, for he was dressed
in mine clothes, and was as begrimed as the sootiest delver of them all,
but who was he? He had somewhere lost his miner's cap, and the yellow,
close-cropped curls of his uncovered head had a strangely familiar look.

He noticed their stares, knew what was passing in their minds, and
laughingly said:

"Yes, fellows; I'm McClain of the _Explorer_, and I guess I've got a
beat on you all this time." Then to Derrick he said, "Come, Sterling, we
must get out of this; there's a mot