rs," he responded. "Wait till Martin
comes back an' the next gang goes in; then ye can go."

"But I say I know where the boy is. I can find 'im in half an hour.
Five minutes delay might cost 'im his life."--

The man looked at Conway in doubt and wonder; he was hesitating
between obedience and inclination.

Then Bachelor Billy spoke up, "Why, mon!" he exclaimed, "what's orders
when a life's at stake? We _mus'_ go doon, I tell ye! An ye hold us
back ye'll be guilty o' the lad's daith!"

His voice had a ring of earnestness in it that the man could not
resist. He moved to the windlass and told his helpers to lower the
bucket. Conway entreated Bachelor Billy not to go down, and the
foreman joined in the protest. They might as well have talked to
the stars.

"Why, men!" said Billy, "tha's a chance as how the lad's alive. An
that be so no ither body can do for 'im like me w'en he's foond. I
wull go doon, I tell ye; I _mus'_ go doon!"

He stepped carefully into the bucket, Conway leaped in after him, and
they were lowered away.

At the bottom of the shaft they found no one but the footman, whose
duty it was to remain steadily at his post. He listened somewhat
incredulously to their hasty explanations, he gave to them another
lighted lamp, and wished them good-luck as they started away into the
heading.

In spite of his determination and self-will, Bachelor Billy's strength
gave out before they had reached the head of the plane, and he was
obliged to stop and rest. Indeed, he was compelled often to do this
during the remainder of the journey, but he would not listen to any
suggestion that he should turn back. The air was still very impure,
although they could at times feel the fresh current from the shaft at
their backs.

They met no one. The searching parties were all south of the shaft
now, this part of the mine having been thoroughly examined.

By the time the two men had reached the foot of Conway's chamber,
they were nearly prostrated by the foul air they had been compelled
to breathe. Both were still feeble from recent illnesses and were
without the power to resist successfully the effects of the poisoned
atmosphere. They made their way up the chamber in silence, their limbs
unsteady, their heads swimming, their hearts beating violently. At the
breast Conway clambered up over the body of the mule and thrust his
lighted lamp against the walled-up aperture.

"He's gone through here!" he cried. "He's opened up