"Shoot, John, shoot! He iss here," he yelled, and laid himself flat to give Trevna his chance.
And Trevna, between two sneezes, picked up his gun, though he could see nothing to shoot at, and ran the barrel forward above Morgan's head and fired, and the roar of it in that confined space came near to deafening them both.
The smoke hung thick and choked them, as they gasped it in in gulps while they sneezed, and the light had gone out with the concussion.
They lay for a time exhausted. Then the atmosphere cleared somewhat, and they lay in the thick darkness straining their ears for any sound, but heard nothing.
"What did you see, Evan Morgan?" whispered Trevna at last.
"It wass a man."
"Then I have killed him, for he does not move. Can you light the lamp?"
"I can not—in here. I am coing out. I haf hat enough of this."
"We must take him out, too."
"You can tek him, then, John Trevna. I haf hat enough of him and this hole."