“Don’t be silly.”
“Oh, listen!”
There was something in my manner that forced Uncle Gaspard to stop his work and listen. The noise was now louder and more sinister.
“Race for your life. The mine’s flooded!” he shouted.
“Professor! Professor!” I screamed.
We rushed down the gallery. The old man joined us. The water was rising rapidly.
“You go first,” said the old man when we reached the ladder.
We were not in a position to show politeness. Uncle Gaspard went first, I followed, then came the professor. Before we had reached the top of the ladder a rush of water fell, extinguishing our lamps.
“Hold on,” cried Uncle Gaspard.
We clung to the rungs. But some men who were below us were thrown off. The fall of water had turned into a veritable avalanche.