by the
chill of dread.

He fought it back in his desperation, and in a tone which surprised
himself, he cried,--

"Now, then! Time's up! Go on!"

To his intense delight, his energy seemed to be communicated to his
companion; and as he hung back a little, Joe reached with one hand, got
a fresh hold there with the other, and, raising his right foot, drew
himself slowly and cautiously up, to stand on the next spell.

"Cheerily ho!" sang out Gwyn, as he followed. "I knew, I knew you could
do it. Now then! Don't stop to get cold. Up you go before I get out
that pin."

Joe slowly and laboriously began again, and reached the next step, but
Gwyn felt no increase of hope, for he could tell how feeble and
nerveless the boy was. But he went on talking lightly, as he followed
and let the poor fellow feel the support of his breast.

"That's your sort. Nine inches higher. Two nine inches more--a foot
and a half. But, I say, no games; don't start off with a run and leave
me behind. You'd better let me go with you, in case your foot gives--
gives way again."

That repetition of the word gives was caused by a peculiar catching of
Gwyn's breath.

"I say," he continued, as they paused, "this is ever so much better than
going up those wet ladders in the shaft. I shall never like that way.
Don't you remember looking down the shaft of that mine, where the hot,
steamy mist came up, and the rounds of the ladder were all slippery with
the grease that dropped from the men's candles stuck in their caps? I
do. I said it would be like going down ladders of ice, and that you'd
never catch me on them. Our way won't be hot and steamy like that was,
because there'll always be a draught of fresh sea air running up from
the adit. Now then, up you go again! I begin to want my dinner."

Joe did not stir, and Gwyn's face turned ghastly, while his mouth opened
ready for the utterance of a wild cry for help.

But the cry did not escape, for Gwyn's teeth closed with a snap. He
felt that it would result in adding to his companion's despair.

He was once more master of himself.

"Now then!" he cried; "I don't want to use that pin. Go on, old
lazybones."

The energy was transferred again, and Joe slowly struggled up another
step, closely followed by Gwyn, and then remained motionless and silent.

"You stop and let yourself get cold again," cried Gwyn, resolutely now.
"Begin once more, and don't stop. You needn't mind, old cha