“Can’t budge,” he said at last, strangely calm now that he realized his helpless position. “Listen to me, Miss Breen,” he commanded, fumbling for his watch. “You’ve got to run like a March hare.” He peered closely at the watch, barely able to distinguish the hands in the moonlight. “You’ve less than half an hour to get away. This whole mountaintop will go up like a skyrocket in twenty minutes. And if you’re within half a mile——”
The girl’s eyes widened with terror; she was instantly aware of the situation. “But you!” she cried. “You can’t—remain here.”
“We can’t waste time arguing,” Nash answered.
“But—but surely I can do something,” she faltered. “Tell me where the men are. I’ll warn them that you are——”
“It is impossible, Miss Breen. They are over a mile from here, and you can only cross the river at one point. A man used to the trails couldn’t cover the distance under an hour.”
“Then—the wires!” she exclaimed. “I can cut them.”
For the instant Nash entertained that hope. Yet, after reflection he knew such a quest was useless.
“We’ve come out of the chamber on the opposite side of the mountain,” he told her. “You could never in the world find your way around to the mouth of the drift. There are no paths.”
Miss Breen continued to gaze upon him with terror-stricken eyes. The pain in Nash’s legs was becoming more and more severe. He fought back the desire to groan, although he knew his lips were trembling and that his face must be very white.
“For God’s sake, Miss Breen,” he said, “go away from here! There is yet a change that I can free myself before—— Anyway, you can do no good. Go straight down the slope, and turn under the high cliffs below the pipe line.”