“Beg your pardon, sir, you were completely beat out, and we felt that we must carry you back to the shaft.”
“What insolence!” roared the Colonel. “Right about face. Forward once more. But,” he added bitterly, “if any man among you is too cowardly to help me, he can go back.”
He turned and strode off into the darkness, and Hardock followed just in time to catch him as he reeled and snatched at the side of the gallery to save himself from falling.
“You can’t do it, sir, you can’t do it,” said Hardock, with his voice full of the rough sympathy he felt. “We did it all for the best. We’d have carried you farther in, but it seemed like so much madness, and so we decided. Part’s gone on with Harry Vores, and we’re going to send in another shift as soon as we get back.”
The Colonel looked at him despairingly, for he knew that the man’s words were true, and that it would be impossible to go on.
“We did what we thought were right, sir,” continued Hardock; “and it’s quite likely that the young gents have got safely back by now.”
The Colonel made no reply, but suffered himself to be led back to where the men were waiting, and then, growing more helpless minute by minute, he was conducted, after a long and toilsome task, which included several pauses to rest, to the foot of the shaft.
The water had increased till it was nearly knee-deep when they waded to where the skep was waiting, and the Colonel was half fainting from exhaustion; but the feeling that the boys might be safely back revived him somewhat, and he strove hard to maintain his composure as they all stepped in, the signal was given, and they began to rise. But he was hanging heavily upon the arm of one of the men before the mouth of the shaft was reached, and he looked dazed and confused, feeling as if in a dream, when the engineer cried,—
“Well, found ’em?”
“Then they’ve not come back?” said Hardock.