"Poor Derrick! Poor little Paul! Oh, it is too awful!" and tender-hearted Nellie Halford burst into tears.
So all the world knew that Derrick Sterling was a hero, and that, alive or dead, he was somewhere in that flooded mine. After that morning thousands of people who had never heard his name before eagerly scanned the daily papers for more news concerning him and the poor fellows whose fate he was sharing.
Derrick had not gone far in his search for Paul Evert when his lamp, which had been burning dimly for some minutes, though unnoticed in his excitement, gave an expiring flash and went out. The boy's impulse was to return to the foot of the slope for a new supply of oil. Then he remembered that he had a canful with him, the one he had almost unconsciously snatched up when he started on his present errand. Filling the lamp in the dark was slow work, and occupied several minutes of valuable time.
While thus engaged his ear caught the sound of rushing waters that seemed to come from out of the darkness behind him. Nearer and nearer it came, and it grew louder and louder, as with trembling hand he struck a match and relighted his lamp. Its first gleam fell upon a wall of black waters rolling rapidly towards him, up the gangway, breast-high, and cutting off all chance of escape.
What should he do? It was useless to run; the waters could run faster than he. It would be impossible to stem that fierce current and fight his way out against it. Must he, then, die, alone in that awful place with no sound save the roar of waters in his ears? Could it be that he should never again see his mother and little Helen and the sunlight? Was his life over, and must he be carried away by the black flood that was reaching out to seize him?
Like a flash these thoughts passed through his mind, and like another flash came a ray of hope. Close beside him was the mouth of a chute belonging to a breast that he knew followed the slant of the vein upward for a great distance.
He sprang towards it, flung his oil-can into it, and in another moment, though the chute was above his head, he had climbed the slippery wall and entered it. As he drew himself up beyond their reach the savage waters made a fierce leap after him, and swept on with an angry, snarling roar. A few minutes later they had risen above the mouth of the chute and completely filled the gangway. Derrick was entombed, and the door was sealed behind him.
In the mean time a similar escape was being effected but a short distance from him, though he knew nothing of it. Monk Tooley and four other men working near him in a distant part of the mine received no intimation of the outbreak of waters and the disaster that was about to overwhelm them. Their first warning of trouble came with the stoppage of the air-currents that supplied them with the very breath of life.
For a few minutes they waited for them to be resumed; then, flinging down their tools, and filled with a strange fear, they started through the maze of galleries towards the slope. On their way they were joined by Aleck, the blacksmith, and Boodle, his helper. Next they came upon Paul Evert, standing anxiously by his door. He had become conscious, without being able to explain how, that something terrible was about to happen, though he had no idea what form the terror was to take.
Joining the fugitives, he was hobbling along as fast as possible, and trying to keep pace with their rapid strides, when Monk Tooley stopped, picked him up, and, holding him like a baby in his strong arms, said, "We'll get on faster dis way, lad."