“All! Who’s that?” cried Archy, as he mentally saw a wounded man being left behind.
“Don’t leave a poor fellow to be burnt to death, Mr Raystoke,” cried a familiar voice.
“Ram!” cried Archy, running back to where the boy lay bound behind a pile of stones, forgotten for the time, and unheeded by his companions.
“Yes, it’s me,” said the boy excitedly.
“Quick! Get up. Can you walk?” said Archy, cutting him free.
“Yes,” cried the lad.
“Then come on!”
“For the top passage,” whispered Ram. “That’s the only way now.”
“Yes. Follow me.”
The midshipman had hardly given the command when there was another explosion, a fresh flash of fire, which nearly reached them, and he saw beyond the dancing tongues of flame the black opening he sought.