"Villain! what is it ye are plotting hereabout? Confess, or I'll have thee dealt with after thy deserts."
"Oh!—I'll—tell—all—I will—" sobbed out the delinquent, gasping with terror. Tim, for it was none other, fell on his knees, crying for mercy. "Whoever thou art," continued he, "come and help—help for one that's fa'n under a heavy calamity. Bad though he be, we maunna let him perish for lack o' lookin' after."
"Has't got a light, knave?"
"I'll run an' fetch one."
"Nay, nay; we part not company until better acquainted. Is there not a candle below?"
"Alas! 'tis put out—and—oh! I'd forgotten; here's t' match box i' my pocket."
He drew forth the requisite materials, and they were soon equipped, exploring the concealed chambers we have before described. With difficulty they now found their way, by reason of the dust arising from the recent catastrophe. Dee followed cautiously on, keeping a wary eye on his leader lest some deceit or stratagem should be intended.
They now approached a heap of ruins almost choking the entrance to the larger vault. He thought groans issued from beneath.
"He's not dead yet," said Tim. "Here, here, good sir; help me to shift this stone first."
They set to work in good earnest, and, with no little difficulty and delay, at length succeeded in releasing the unfortunate treasure-hunter. Eager to possess the supposed riches, they had incautiously undermined one of the main supports of the roof, and Kelly was buried under the ruins. Fortunately he lay in the hollow he had made, otherwise nothing but a miracle could have saved him from immediate death. He was terribly bruised, nevertheless, and presented a pitiable spectacle. Bleeding and sore wounded, he was hardly sensible as they bore him out into the fresh air. Apparently unable to move, they laid him on the ground until help could be obtained. In a while he recovered.