With fascinated eyes the four boys watched the cable as it ran rapidly from the drum of the winch. The instant its slackened speed showed that the car had struck the water, Dave Wilbur jerked out his watch and told off the seconds.
“Ten—twenty—thirty—forty—fifty—sixty—seventy—”
“She’s down!” shouted Beals as the cable stopped unreeling.
“Seventy-six seconds!” announced Wilbur. “Seventy-six, from the time she hit the water.”
“A minute and sixteen seconds,” muttered Dick Somers. “It was as long as any hour I ever lived!” and Dick sat down suddenly and buried his face in his hands.
CHAPTER XXIII
ESCAPE
Sitting there in the murky dimness of the old mine, Dick Somers struggled manfully against the anxiety which was making his heart throb painfully. Ned Blake was pal and leader of the other boys, but to Dick he was all this and much more. Not until this moment of terrible suspense did Dick fully realize the depth of his feeling for his friend and the shock of it brought a dry sob to his throat.
“Don’t take it so hard, Dick,” consoled Charlie Rogers in a voice that was husky in spite of his effort to control it. “Shucks! Ned’s all right. He’s a regular fish in the water! He can swim a couple of miles without half trying, and when it comes to doing under-water stunts—why he can beat a muskrat!”
“The only thing I was really worrying about was that the car might jump the track,” declared Tommy Beals in a cheerful tone, which was, however, belied by the solemn expression of his plump countenance. “I know by the way the cable acted that the old dump-wagon stayed on the rails and it’s dollars to doughnuts she made the end of the tunnel right side up!”
“Sure she did!” Rogers exclaimed confidently, “and the instant Ned saw light through the hole above him, why he started up. He thinks under water—take it from me!”