uder explosion. In ran Burnley terrified at his own work,
and flying to escape. Hope sprang out upon him. "No you don't--living or
dead, you are the last to leave this mine."

Burnley struggled furiously, but Hope dashed him down at his feet. Just
as a far more awful explosion than all took place, one side of that
amphitheatre fell in and the very earth heaved. The corner part of the
shaft fell in upon the cage and many poor miners who were hoping to
escape by it; but those escaped for the present who obeyed Hope's order
and fled to another part of the mine, and when the stifling vapors
drifted away there stood Hope pale as death, but strong as iron, with the
assassin at his feet, and poor Grace crouching and quivering in her
recess. Their fate now awaited these three, a speedy death by choke-damp,
or a slow death by starvation, or a rescue from the outside under
circumstances of unparalleled difficulty, since there was but one shaft
completed, and that was now closed by a mountain of debris.

CHAPTER XXI.

BURIED ALIVE.

The explosions so tremendously loud below were but muffled sounds at the
pit's mouth; but, alas! these muffled sounds, and one flash of lurid
flame that shot up into the air, told the tale of horror to every
experienced pitman and his wife, and the cry of a whole village went up
to heaven.

The calamity spread like wildfire. It soon found its way to Clifford
Hall, and the deputy ran himself with the news to Mr. Bartley. Bartley
received it at first with a stony glare, and trembled all over; then the
deputy, lowering his voice, said, "Sir, the worst of it is, there is foul
play in it. There is good authority to say that Ben Burnley fired the
mine to destroy his betters, and he has done it; for Mr. Hope and Miss
Hope that is, Miss Bartley that was, are both there." He added, in a
broken voice, "And if they are not buried or stifled, it will be hard
work to save them. The mine is a ruin."

Bartley delivered a wild scream, and dashed out of the house at once; he
did not even take his hat, but the deputy, more self-possessed, took one
out of the hall and followed him.

Bartley hurried to the mine, and found that several stout fellows had
gone down with their pickaxes and other tools to clear the shaft, but
that it must be terribly slow work, so few men could work at a time in
that narrow space. Bartley telegraphed to Derby for a more powerful
steam-engine and experienced engineers, and set a