shaft and about him, but there was no reply. Once more he
shouted, then resolutely suppressing his instinctive shrinking, he made
his way about to the rope, carefully lowered himself, and began
descending hand under hand.

Wilson had not gone far when with apprehension he found the rope becoming
wet and slippery with drip from the rocks above. Despite a tightened grip
his hands began to slip. In alarm he wound his feet about the rope. Still
he slipped. To dry a hand on his sleeve, he freed it. Instantly with a
cry he found himself shooting downward. He clutched with hands, feet and
knees, but onward he plunged. In the light of his lamp the jagged broken
timbers of the shoring shot up by him. He would be dashed to pieces.

But desperately he fought, and at last got the rope clamped against the
corner of a heel, and the speed was retarded. A moment after he landed
with an impact that broke his hold on the rope and sent him in a heap on
his back.

Rising, Wilson thankfully discovered he had escaped injury other than a
few bruises, and gazed about him. At first sight he appeared to be in the
bottom of a well filled with broken water-soaked timbers and gray,
dripping rock. He knew there must be an exit, however, and set about
looking for it, at the same time listening and watching shrinkingly for
signs of anyone buried in the heap of stone and timber. Not a sound save
the monotonous drip of seeping water was to be heard, however, and
presently behind a shield of planking he located the black mouth of a
small opening.

Dropping to his knees, he crawled through, and stood upright in a
downward sloping gallery similar to that above--the "lower level."

Once more he shouted. "Hello! Hello!" The clashing echoes died away
without response, and he started forward.

Scarcely had he taken a half dozen steps when without warning his feet
shot from under him and he went down on his back with a crash, barely
saving his head with his hands. The smooth hard rock was as slippery as
ice from the water flowing over it. Wondering if this icy declivity had
anything to do with the failure of Hoover and Young to return, Wilson
arose and went on more cautiously.

As he proceeded the walking became more and more treacherous. Several
times he again went down, saving himself by sinking onto his outstretched
hands.

On rising from one of these falls Wilson discovered something which sent
him ahead with new concern. A few yards farther he ha