Dick understood at once. Red George and his mates were still in the bottom of the shaft, ignorant of the danger which was threatening them.
"Come on," he cried; "we shall be in time yet," and at the top of his speed dashed down the hill, followed by Saunders.
"What is it, what is it?" asked parties of men mounting the hill.
"Red George's gang are still below."
Dick's eyes were fixed on the water. There was a broad band now of yellow with a white edge down the centre of the stony flat, and it was widening with terrible rapidity. It was scarce ten yards from the windlass at the top of Red George's shaft when Dick, followed closely by Saunders, reached it.
"Come up, mates; quick, for your lives! The river is rising; you will be flooded out directly. Every one else has gone!"
As he spoke he pulled at the rope by which the bucket was hanging, and the handles of the windlass flew round rapidly as it descended. When it had run out, Dick and he grasped the handles.
"All right below?"
An answering call came up, and the two began their work, throwing their whole strength into it. Quickly as the windlass revolved, it seemed an endless time to Dick before the bucket came up, and the first man stepped out. It was not Red George. Dick had hardly expected it would be. Red George would be sure to see his two mates up before him, and the man uttered a cry of alarm as he saw the water, now within a few feet of the mouth of the shaft.