Gwyn did not reply. He felt that if he spoke his words would be wild and incoherent, and that all his strength was required to crawl along this terrible crevice in the rock. He was conscious of a hand touching his foot from time to time, and of hearing voices, and of passing over loose, small pieces of shattered rock which might have resulted from the explosion.
At last, after what seemed to be a terrible distance, a voice said, “Out of the way, dog,” and directly after a cold wet nose touched his brow, and there was a snuffing sound at his ear, followed by a joyous barking. Then gradually all grew more dense and dark in his brain, and the next thing he remembered was being touched by hands, and feeling the contraction of a rope about his chest followed by a burst of cheering which seemed to take place far away down in the mine; for the roaring and whistling of the wind had ceased, so that he could hear distinctly that hurrahing; and then he heard nothing, for, strong in spirit while the danger lasted, that energy was all used now, and of what took place Gwyn Pendarve knew no more.
Chapter Fifty One.
In the Light.
“Yes, what is it? Who’s there?”
“Oh, Gwyn, my boy, my boy!” came piteously; and two soft arms raised him from his pillow to hold him to a throbbing breast, while passionate lips pressed warm kisses on his face.
“Mother! You! What’s the matter? Ah, I remember. You there, father? Where’s Joe? Where’s poor old Sam Hardock?”
“Joe Jollivet’s in the next room, sleeping soundly; Sam Hardock’s at Harry Vores’ cottage getting right fast.”