owed him a drift running from the foot of the shaft.
Along this he dragged himself slowly, uncertain of direction but
determined to find out what possibility of escape his prison offered.
For two hundred yards the tunnel led forward and brought him up sharply
at an _impasse_. A cave-in blocked farther advance.

"Check," Jack told himself aloud grimly.

He knew now that his situation was a very serious one, for he had been
flung alive into a grave that offered only a slight prospect of escape.
He was without food, effectually cut off from the surface of the earth,
and none but those who had assaulted him knew that he was buried.

The alternatives that lay before him were plain. He might climb the
ladder again to the timber ledge and keep calling for help, or he might
attempt to dig a way over the cave-in with his hands and his
pocketknife, trusting that the tunnel led to another shaft. The former
was a chance pure and simple, and a slender one at that. It was not
likely that anybody would pass the mouth of a deserted shaft far up in
the hills at this season of the year. But it was quite within the
probabilities that the tunnel led to some of the workings of a live
property. Many miles of underground drifts were connected by
intercepting stopes of adjoining mines. If he could force a way through
the cave-in there might be safety beyond. To go moling into such a place
without timbering would be a dangerous business, but the crisis was one
that justified any risk.

He took stock of his assets. Fortunately he had bought at a lunch
counter a ham sandwich to stay his appetite during the night trip. This
was still in his pocket, badly mashed but still edible. Five cigars were
in the case he carried and upon his person all told he found eleven
matches. A little trickle of water ran through the tunnel and gave
assurance that he would not die of thirst. His pocketknife was a
serviceable one and he had plenty of physical strength.

Jack decided that he would eat half of the sandwich that day and reserve
the rest for the second one. His cigars were precious luxuries to be
indulged in once every twenty-four hours after he had knocked off work.

He attacked the cave-in with the cool energy that characterized him. Out
of a piece of board he fashioned a kind of shovel with his knife. Bits
of broken timbering lay at the foot of the shaft. These he dragged into
the tunnel for fuel to feed a small fire which he built to give light
fo