“You?” Merriwell exclaimed. “I thought—— Thank you, old fellow.”
The Texan drew one sleeve across his forehead.
“By George, pard!” he grunted; “I sure thought you were done for that time.”
“Where’s Mr. Fairchilds?” Dick asked anxiously. “Did he get out all right?”
“He did, thanks to you, my boy.”
The mine owner’s voice sounded from the tunnel’s mouth, and the next instant he appeared, supported by Bill McDonough and another miner. There were cuts on his head and face, one hand was bruised, and he could not stand alone; but his eyes were bright and his voice firm.
“By gorry!” he exclaimed. “That was the closest thing I ever saw. I shall never forget this, Merriwell. Are you hurt?”
Dick smiled.
“None to speak of,” he returned. “Shoulder a little numb, that’s all.”
“Good.”