When the shock came it shook the shacks so that nearly all of the sleeping miners became instantly alert.
Harry Hazelton, dozing lightly, sat up in bed, then felt dizzy and lay down again.
"You keep on your pillow, Mr. Hazelton," Tim Walsh ordered, gently.
"It isn't your time to sit up yet, sir."
"What was the racket?" asked Harry, anxiously.
"A blast in the mine," Tom Reade answered, truthfully enough.
"I didn't know we had any dynamite left," persisted Harry.
"You haven't been in a condition to know all that has been going on for the last few days," Tom retorted, gently. "Now, don't ask me any more questions, for I've got to go out and see how the blast came along."
As he spoke Tom was hustling into his coat and pulling his cap down over his ears.
Then, full of the liveliest anxiety, the young chief engineer hastened out.
His instant conclusion had been that some treachery was afoot, but whence it came he had no idea. Just now Tom Reade wanted facts, not conjectures.