Part 12 (1/2)

”He's right,” he roared excitedly. ”There's some one below--how many were with you, my lad?”

”Only my cousin--we were buried together--but don't talk--dig, dig!”

”Yes, both of you, slip into it. Just here,” cried the big man, ”while I get the pick and fetch this one out.”

”No, no, not there,” cried Abel frantically. ”Dig yonder, there by the rock wall.”

”What, right over yonder? Sound's here.”

”Go and listen there,” cried Abel.

”Can you hold out?”

”Yes, yes; hours now. Save my cousin; for heaven's sake, quick!”

One of the men had gone quickly to the rocky wall, knelt down and listened, and shouted back.

”He's right,” cried this latter. ”You can hear some one moleing away quite plain.”

”Dig, dig!” shouted Abel, and two of the new-comers began at once, while the leader of the party went to their sledge and dragged a sharp-pointed miner's pick from where it was lashed on.

”No, no,” cried Abel imploringly, as the man returned to his side; ”save him.”

”You keep quiet, my lad. I'm a-going to save you.”

”But I can breathe,” cried Abel.

”So can he, or he couldn't go on working. Two heavy chaps is quite enough to be tramping over his head. Don't want my sixteen stone to tread it hard. Have a drop more o' this 'fore I begin?”

”No, no! It is burning my mouth still.”

”Good job too: put some life into you, just when you looked as if you was going to bye-bye for good. Now then, don't you be skeart. I know how to use a pick; been used to it in the Corn'll tin-mines. I could hit anywhere to half a shadow round you without taking the skin off.

I'll soon have you out.”

He began at once, driving the pick into the compressed snow; but after the first half-dozen strokes, seeing how the fragments flew, he took off his broad-brimmed felt hat and laid it against Abel's head as a screen.

Then commencing again he made the chips fly in showers which glittered in the suns.h.i.+ne, as he walked backward, cutting a narrow trench with the sharp-pointed implement, taking the prisoner's head as a centre and keeping about thirty inches distant, and so on, round and round till the channel he cut was as deep as the arm of the pick, and quite clear.

”Feel bad?” he said, pausing for a few moments.

”No, no,” cried Abel. ”How are they getting on?”

”Better'n me. If we don't look sharp your mate--what did you say he was--cousin?--'ll be out first.”

”I hope so,” sighed Abel.

”Now then, shut your eyes, my son,” cried the miner. ”I'm going to cut from you now. Lean your head away as much as you can. I've cut the tire and felloes of the wheel; your head's the nave; now I'm going to cut the spokes.”

_Click, click, click_, went the pick.