or he
deed."

He raised his precious burden to his heart and began again his
journey.

The water in the old sump had risen and flowed across the heading and
the air-way and far up into the chambers, and he was compelled to go
around it. The way was long and devious; it was blocked and barred;
he had often to lay his burden down and make an opening through some
walled-up entrance to give them room for passage.

There were falls in his course, and he clambered across rough hills
of rock and squeezed through narrow openings; but every step brought
him nearer to the slope, and this thought nerved him to still greater
effort. Yet he could not wholly escape the water of the sump. He had
still to pass through it. It was cold and black. It came to his ankles
as he trudged along. By and by it reached to his knees. When it grew
to be waist-deep he lifted the child to his shoulder, steadied himself
against the side wall of the passage and pushed on. He slipped often,
he became dizzy at times, there were horrible moments when he thought
surely that the dark water would close over him and his precious
burden forever. But he came through it at last, dripping, gasping,
staggering on till he reached the foot of the old slope. There he sat
down to rest. From away back in the mine the echoing shouts of the
rescuing party came faintly to his ears. Conway had returned with
help. He tried to answer their call, but the cry stuck in his throat.

He knew that it would be folly for him to attempt to reach them; he
knew also that they would never trace his course across that dreadful
waste of water.

There was but one thing to do; he must go on, he must climb the slope.

He gave one look up the long incline, gathered his burden to his
breast and started upward. The slope was not a steep one. There were
many in that region that were steeper; but to a man in the last stage
of physical exhaustion, forcing his tired muscles and his pain-racked
body to carry him and his helpless charge up its slippery way, it was
little less than precipitous.

It was long too, very long, and in many places it was rough with
dislodged props and caps and fallen rock.

Many and many a time Bachelor Billy fell prone upon the sloping floor,
but, though he was powerless to save himself, though he met in his own
body the force of every blow, he always held the child out of harm's
way.

He began to wonder, at last, if he could ever get the lad to the
surface; if