his excitement to warrant Abel's misapprehension,
stared at the snow prisoner for a few moments as if he believed him to
be insane.

"He's off his 'ead, mates, with fright," he said in a low voice to his
companions, who were freeing the shovels; but Abel heard him.

"No, no," he cried wildly. "I know what I am saying. Listen."

The great, frank-looking fellow laid his ear to the snow, and leaped up
again.

"He's right," he roared excitedly. "There's some one below--how many
were with you, my lad?"

"Only my cousin--we were buried together--but don't talk--dig, dig!"

"Yes, both of you, slip into it. Just here," cried the big man, "while
I get the pick and fetch this one out."

"No, no, not there," cried Abel frantically. "Dig yonder, there by the
rock wall."

"What, right over yonder? Sound's here."

"Go and listen there," cried Abel.

"Can you hold out?"

"Yes, yes; hours now. Save my cousin; for heaven's sake, quick!"

One of the men had gone quickly to the rocky wall, knelt down and
listened, and shouted back.

"He's right," cried this latter. "You can hear some one moleing away
quite plain."

"Dig, dig!" shouted Abel, and two of the new-comers began at once, while
the leader of the party went to their sledge and dragged a sharp-pointed
miner's pick from where it was lashed on.

"No, no," cried Abel imploringly, as the man returned to his side; "save
him."

"You keep quiet, my lad. I'm a-going to save you."

"But I can breathe," cried Abel.

"So can he, or he couldn't go on working. Two heavy chaps is quite
enough to be tramping over his head. Don't want my sixteen stone to
tread it hard. Have a drop more o' this 'fore I begin?"

"No, no! It is burning my mouth still."

"Good job too: put some life into you, just when you looked as if you
was going to bye-bye for good. Now then, don't you be skeart. I know
how to use a pick; been used to it in the Corn'll tin-mines. I could
hit anywhere to half a shadow round you without taking the skin off.
I'll soon have you out."

He began at once, driving the pick into the compressed snow; but after
the first half-dozen strokes, seeing how the fragments flew, he took off
his broad-brimmed felt hat and laid it against Abel's head as a screen.
Then commencing again he made the chips fly in showers which glittered
in the sunshine, as he walked backward, cutting a narrow trench with the
sharp-pointed implement, taking the prisoner's head a