"From five to eight feet, I should say. It varies. The other galleries seem to be regular."
"Well, whatever the height, the purer air will be at the top. If in one of the higher parts we could raise a platform and mount it we might venture farther in than if we remained on the floor. Can we do that?"
"Yes, there are some logs just at the entrance. It's worth risking, and the sooner the better."
Hurrying to the entrance, Mr. Brown and Jack carried in as many balks of timber as they could find, dropping them at the turning of the gallery. Then, holding their breath, they rushed one of the logs into the gallery as far as they dared, and ran back to the open passage. They repeated this operation until a small platform was raised some two feet above the floor; then, bidding Jack remain in safety, Mr. Brown mounted to test the result. He found that the air, though foul, was not bad enough to be dangerous. The position would be endurable for a few minutes. He hoped that it would not be necessary to have recourse to this unpleasant place of refuge, but it was well to know that it existed in case of need. Then, somewhat sickened by the foul air they had swallowed, they went to find the Count, who had volunteered to keep watch at the entrance to the mine.
He reported that he had seen, far off on the hillside, two parties of men moving in different directions, in a manner that suggested a search. But they had now disappeared. For some time nothing further was seen, and Jack and his father took the opportunity to exchange confidences about all that had happened since that June day when they had parted at the door of their house in Moukden.
Suddenly the Count, who had remained constantly on the watch, considerately leaving father and son to themselves, touched Mr. Brown on the arm and pointed. The heads of half a dozen men could be seen topping the brow of a slope about 300 yards below them. Instantly the three withdrew into the first gallery, taking the precaution to remove their boots, so that they would not be heard if they had to retreat to the platform. In a few minutes they heard the echoing voices of the men as they left the open and entered the mine. It was impossible to see who they were, but the Count recognized the voice of one of the prison warders, and Mr. Brown that of a prisoner who had occupied the next bed when he was for a week in hospital. It was soon apparent what the prisoner had been brought for. The party halted within a few yards of the fugitives, and their words were now distinctly audible.
"Now, Scuratoff, you know the galleries?" said the warder.
"Yes; I worked here seven years ago."
"Then lead the way. Is it safe to light a lantern?"
"Maybe; I cannot say. It used to be safe enough in the main gallery, but in my time there was foul air in the side galleries. We had safety-lamps."