Difficulties were only made for men to overcome, according to the maxim which had hitherto guided Mr Rawlings and Seth Allport, and which they had preached to the more faint-hearted members of their party; and, Ernest Wilton was a thorough disciple of their creed, for he was not one to be daunted by obstacles, no matter how grievous and apparently insurmountable they were;—no, not he.
The young engineer went down the mine to look for himself, and to form his own opinion as to what was best to be done in the emergency.
He went down looking grave enough, but he returned with a more hopeful expression on his face, which at once cheered up the somewhat despondent spirits of those awaiting him above—for he preferred descending alone.
“Well?” inquired Mr Rawlings, interrogatively.
“It might be worse,” said the young engineer smiling.
“That sounds good,” said Seth Allport, his countenance, which had previously been grimmer than ever, beaming over its whole expanse, as if the sun was trying to shine through overhanging clouds and fog. Seth’s phiz was as expressive as a barometer any clay.
“I think I see a way out of the difficulty,” said Ernest Wilton to ease their anxiety, which he could readily sympathise with after what he had seen.
“I am sure you would not say so unless you had some hopes of its success,” said Mr Rawlings, whom the good news seemed to affect more than all the previous trials had done, for he looked quite pale, and almost trembled with eagerness as he questioned the bearer of the welcome tidings.
“No,” said Ernest Wilton joyously, for he was very glad to be able to communicate the intelligence to those who had succoured him in his own distress, and now appealed to him for assistance. “There’s a chance for the mine yet; and you need not despair of having spent your toil in vain.”
“Bully for you!” exclaimed Seth Allport. “Didn’t I say now—ask anybody present if I didn’t anyhow—that you’d brought us good luck?”