"How in the world will we ever get them up?" whispered Irene wonderingly; but before Mercedes could frame a reply, there was a crash from below, a cry, a grating sound of falling rock and then hideous, horrible silence.
"Toady!" shrieked the girls in frenzy, "did you fall?"
"No," came back a muffled answer. "I'm all right, but we have knocked down some boards and can't get out."
"Can't get out!" they repeated dully.
"No. Run for help! Our candle has gone out and it's as black as pitch in here."
"Who'll I go for?" wailed panic-stricken Mercedes, while Irene danced frantically around the shaft and wrung her hands as she chanted, "They'll smother, they'll smother, they'll smother!"
"Anyone, but hustle up!" yelled Toady impatiently, for his companions in the disaster had uttered not a sound since their first wild scream, and a horrible fear that they were hurt or even killed gripped his heart.
However, little Rosslyn was already half-way down the mountain, fairly skimming over the rocks and rubbish, and almost before the distracted girls had recovered their senses enough to be of any aid to the prisoners, the little fellow stumbled across the threshold of the Eagles' Nest, gasping, "They've caved in—Bill and Toady and the girls. I guess maybe they're dead by now!"
Tabitha was on her feet in an instant and the pan of potatoes which she was peeling went spinning across the floor. "Where, Rosslyn?"
Mutely he pointed, too spent for words; and the girl, remembering the old, unprotected shaft of the abandoned Selfridge mine, flew to the rescue of her brood, pausing only to snatch a lantern from a peg on the wall, and a handful of matches from the pantry shelf.