gripped as in
struggle, an ugly wound, made by a jagged edge of rock, showing plainly
in the side of his head. Blood had flowed freely, crimsoning the stone
beneath, but was already congealing amid the thick mass of hair,
serving somewhat to conceal the nature of the injury.

Winston, his head lowered upon the other's breast, felt confident he
detected breath, even a slight, spasmodic twitching of muscles, and
hastily arose to his feet, his mind already aflame with expedients.
The foreman yet lived; perhaps would not prove even seriously injured,
if assistance only reached him promptly. Yet what could he do? What
ought he to attempt doing? In his present physical condition Winston
realized the utter impossibility of transporting that burly body;
water, indeed, might serve to revive him, yet that faint trickle of
falling drops probably came from some distant fault in the rock which
would require much patient search to locate. The engineer had assumed
grave chances in this venture underground; in this moment of victory he
felt little inclination to surrender his information, or to sacrifice
himself in any quixotic devotion to his assailant. Yet he must give
the fellow a fair chance. There seemed only one course practicable,
the despatching to the helpless man's assistance of some among that
gang of workmen down in Number One. But could this be accomplished
without danger of his own discovery? Without any immediate revealment
of his part in the tragedy? First of all, he must make sure regarding
his own safety; he must reach the surface before the truth became known.

Almost mechanically he picked up his revolver where it lay glittering
upon the floor, and stood staring at that recumbent form, slowly
maturing a plan of action. Little by little it assumed shape within
his mind. Swanson was the name of the missing miner, the one Burke had
gone back to seek,--a Swede beyond doubt, and, from what slight glimpse
he had of the fellow before Brown grappled with him in the path above,
a sturdily built fellow, awkwardly galled. In all probability such a
person would have a deep voice, gruff from the dampness of long working
hours below. Well, he might not succeed in duplicating that exactly,
but he could imitate Swedish dialect, and, amid the excitement and
darkness, trust to luck. Let us see; Burke had surely called one of
those miners yonder Ole, another Peterson; it would probably help in
throwing the fellows off