o take who knows nothing about it."

"An' the sand hogs are diggin' in there?"

"No, they're not digging. We put in a tunnelling machine driven by
compressed air, which is sometimes used for making sewers and the
like. It will bore an even, round hole, just big enough for a man to
crawl through, comfortably.

"As soon as that hole is pierced through into the room where the
imprisoned men are, the doctor will go in, taking food, wine and
medical supplies, and three respirators as well. Then, when the
survivors are protected against the possible results of a sudden
inrush of gas, it'll be up to you men to get the rest of the wall down
as quick as you can."

"So that's how it is! We'll be ready, sir, as soon as you give the
word."

At 6 o'clock, on the Friday morning, the outer door of the caisson
clanged and the foreman of the sand hogs came out.

"We've pierced through," he said. "The doctor's in there. He says all
the men are alive, as yet, but he doesn't know if they'll recover.
There's not much time to lose, judging by what he says."

"At the wall, men!" came the order.

The miners cheered. They were to have the glory of getting their
comrades out, after all.

The picks hammered on the rock like hail. The cars roared through the
galleries once more. The cages shot upward with their loads.

At 8 o'clock, a miner's pick went through the wall into the space
leading to the room beyond, but there was still a lot of rock to move
before a clear passage could be made.

Otto remembered the warning of the Mine Bureau official, and realized
that, had he been left to himself, he would have killed his comrades
at the very moment of rescue.

At 9 o'clock, the hole was big enough for one of the rescuers to pass.
As before, a doctor was the first to scramble through the opening.

The excitement above ground was enormous. Each car might bring a
survivor!

Every time that the cage was a few seconds late, hope rose high.

"Keep silence, now," said the Mine Bureau's surgeon to the waiting
crowd. "No cheers or shouts remember! The nerves of the men are apt to
be at the breaking point."

The silence added to the tension. The atmosphere was electric with
anxiety.

What was happening?

The cage was rising slowly, slowly!

Surely the men were there!

It reached the surface.

A limp form was borne out and laid on a waiting stretcher.

It was Anton, his face pinched, his lips blue.

In the next cage, Jim Getwood