“We’ll try and haul you up,” said Chris. “Stop a moment while I take the rifles and stand them up against the wall inside.”
“Hold hard a moment,” said Griggs. “You’d better go and fetch the doctor. He might like to come down and see before I send up the lanthorn.”
“I’ll call him,” said Chris, and he turned to pass through the opening, but was met by his father, who was crossing the stone chamber adjoining.
“Here, quick,” cried the doctor; “come out of this place! Where’s Griggs?”
“Here am I, neighbour. Nothing to be found, only what fell in from where you stand. But there’s hundreds upon hundreds of stones, and those who were beaten down must have been buried by what hit them.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said the doctor anxiously; “but we’ve something else to think of now.”
“Don’t say the mules have stampeded, sir?” cried Griggs anxiously.
“No; they’re grazing peacefully enough at present, but there’s something worse.”
“Then give a pull with the lads at that rope, sir, and let me get out of this. One minute; the lanthorn first.”
The doctor raised the lanthorn, and his first act was to blow it out before joining at the rope and hauling the searcher to the platform.