fter he was locked in the short drift,
Sam Thorpe gave himself up to unreasoning anger. He threw himself again
and again upon the timbers as if believing it would be possible to force
them apart, and shouted at the full strength of his lungs until he was
literally unable to speak louder than a whisper.

Then recognizing the uselessness of such proceedings, he sat down to
think over the matter calmly.

"If Fred succeeded in giving the alarm, I'm not in very much danger of
being drowned out," he said to himself; "but if he was caught I can
count on dying in about two hours."

With this mental speech came the assurance that he had yet a hundred and
twenty minutes in which to fight for life, and he resolved not to waste
a single second.

The lamp in his cap gave sufficient light for a thorough examination of
his prison, and it was soon made. A solid wall of earth and slate
surrounded him, the only outlet was through the doors, which were of
planks and thickly studded with nails that they might be strong enough
to resist a heavy pressure of water.

His only weapon was a stout pocket knife; but even with a saw he could
not have cut his way through.

The hinges were next examined. They were fastened to large joists which
in turn had been set firmly into the strata of slate.

The only weak point he could find was where the two doors came together,
and the flat bolt was exposed. Its entire width and about an inch of its
length could be seen thickly covered with rust, and here Sam decided to
direct his efforts.

"There isn't much chance I can cut it through in two hours," he said;
"but it's better to work than lay still thinking of what may happen."

Breaking the stoutest blade of his knife he began with the jagged
surface to scratch at the iron. While cutting through the rust his
progress was reasonable rapid; but on firm metal was very much like
filing a boiler plate with a pin.

Then the blade of his knife was worn smooth, and he broke off another
piece, repeating the operation until the steel had been used to the
hilt.

The bolt was cut nearly half through; but as he judged, two hours must
have passed.

"If they succeed in flooding the mine I shall still be a prisoner when
the water comes," he muttered, and at that moment he heard the sound of
approaching footsteps.

Two or more had come from the direction of the shaft, and halted near
the door.

"It's no use to try and fight our way into the drift through