"I'll thank you later. There must be a cross cut near here. If we can find it we'll be able to get to a point where I can telephone them to hold back the cars. They'll fill the tunnel before they know anything has happened, if I don't get word to them at once."
"I should think they would miss the cars."
"They should," answered the engineer. "Is your friend able to walk?"
"How about it, Walter?" called Tad.
"Yes, I can run if it will take me out of this terrible place any sooner."
"Then we'll run," decided Tom Phipps. "I must have gotten an awful hit on my right leg, for I can scarcely bear my weight upon it."
"Shall I rub it for you?" asked Tad.
"No, we haven't time. We must look for that cross cut, which leads into the number eleven drift. Keep to your right, boys. We are safe here now, but not on the other track."
"I know that," answered Tad. He shuddered as he recalled the black, projectile-like object that had whisked by him just after he had pulled Mr. Phipps from the return track.
There was still another reason why the assistant superintendent was so filled with anxiety to reach a place where he could notify the terminals to stop the cars. He did not confide this to his young friends, not wishing to disturb them any more than they had been.