CHAPTER VII "WITHIN THE LOFTY TOMB"
Godfrey opened his eyes to find himself lying on the grassy slope of Ormfell, staring up at the night-sky, with Idris kneeling beside him. A cool sensation was playing around his neck, and, gradually waking up to the reality of outward things, the surgeon discovered that his vest and collar lay open to the breeze, and that Idris was sprinkling his face with cold water-drops obtained from a pool close by.
"Coming-to a little, I see," Idris observed cheerfully. "How do you feel?"
"Awfully queer and dizzy," replied Godfrey.
He lifted himself to a sitting posture, utterly unable to account for his present dazed condition.
"You'll be all right in a few minutes. Take a pull at this spirit-flask: that'll revive you. I owe my life to you, old fellow."
"In what way?" asked Godfrey, his mind still too confused to recall the recent accident.
"Gaseous vapour would have claimed its victim. Your grandfather was quite right in asserting this to be a carboniferous soil. Some of the coal-gas has issued to the surface. The atmosphere within the hillock was a mixture of carbon dioxide and floating fire-damp. Foolishly creeping about, with mouth held to the ground, I took in such a whiff of the one as to be quite overpowered by it before I had time to rise, while the other exploded as soon as you struck the match."