Lost, indeed, with those miles and miles of black galleries opening and winding and crossing all around him, and he, lying prostrate and powerless, alone in the midst of that desolation.
[CHAPTER II.]
THE BURNED BREAKER.
For a long time Bennie lay there, pitifully weeping. Then, away off somewhere in the mine, he heard a noise. He lifted his head. By degrees the noise grew louder; then it sounded almost like footsteps. Suppose it were some one coming; suppose it were Tom! The light of hope flashed up in Bennie’s breast with the thought.
But the sound ceased, the stillness settled down more profoundly than before, and about the boy’s heart the fear and loneliness came creeping back. Was it possible that the noise was purely imaginary?
Suddenly, tripping down the passages, bounding from the walls, echoing through the chambers, striking faintly, but, oh, how sweetly, upon Bennie’s ears, came the well-known call,—
“Ben-nie-e-e-e!”
The sound died away in a faint succession of echoing e’s.
Bennie sprang to his feet with a cry.