Hearing the men shrieking their cries of despair, the professor said calmly, but in a voice to which all listened.

"Courage, boys, now as we are going to stay here for a while we must get to work. We can't stay long, huddled together like this. Let us scoop out a hollow in the shale so as to have a place to rest upon."

His words calmed the men. With hands and lamphooks they began to dig into the soil. The task was difficult, for the airshaft in which we had taken refuge was on a considerable slope and very slippery. And we knew that it meant death if we made a false step. A resting place was made, and we were able to stop and take note of each other. We were seven: the professor, Uncle Gaspard, three miners, Pages, Comperou and Bergounhoux, and a car pusher named Carrory, and myself.

The noise in the mine continued with the same violence; there are no words with which to describe the horrible uproar. It seemed to us that our last hour had come. Mad with fear, we gazed at one another, questioningly.

"The evil genius of the mine's taking his revenge," cried one.

"It's a hole broke through from the river above," I ventured to say.

The professor said nothing. He merely shrugged his shoulder, as though he could have argued out the matter in full day, under the shade of a mulberry tree, eating an onion.

"It's all folly about the genius of the mine," he said at last, "The mine is flooded, that's a sure thing. But what has caused the flood, we down here can't tell...."

"Well, if you don't know what it is, shut up," cried the men.

Now that we were dry and the water was not touching us, no one wanted to listen to the old man. The authority which his coolness in danger had gained for him was already lost.

"We shan't die from drowning," he said at last, quietly; "look at the flame in your lamps, how short it is now."

"Don't be a wizard, what do you mean? Speak out."

"I am not trying to be a wizard, but we shan't be drowned. We are in a bell of air, and it is this compressed air which stops the water from rising. This airshaft, without an outlet, is doing for us what the diving bell does for the diver. The air has acc.u.mulated in the shaft and now resists the water, which ebbs back."

"It is the foul air that we have to fear.... The water is not rising a foot now; the mine must be full...."

"Where's Marius?" cried Pages, thinking of his only son, who worked on the third level.

"Oh, Marius! Marius," he shrieked.

There was no reply, not even an echo. His voice did not go beyond our "bell."

Was Marius saved? One hundred and fifty men drowned! That would be too horrible. One hundred and fifty men, at least, had gone down into the mine, how many had been able to get out by the shafts, or had found a refuge like ourselves?

There was now utter silence in the mine. At our feet the water was quite still, not a ripple, not a gurgle. The mine was full. This heavy silence, impenetrable and deathly, was more stupefying than the frightful uproar that we had heard when the water first rushed in. We were in a tomb, buried alive, more than a hundred feet under ground. We all seemed to feel the awfulness of our situation. Even the professor seemed crushed down. Suddenly, I felt some warm drops fall on my hand.

It was Carrory.... He was crying, silently. Then came a voice, shrieking:

"Marius! my boy, Marius!"

The air was heavy to breathe; I felt suffocated; there was a buzzing in my ears. I was afraid, afraid of the water, the darkness, and death.

The silence oppressed me, the uneven, jagged walls of our place of refuge seemed as though they would fall and crush me beneath their weight. Should I never see Lise again, and Arthur, and Mrs. Milligan, and dear old Mattia. Would they be able to make little Lise understand that I was dead, and that I could not bring her news from her brothers and sister! And Mother Barberin, poor Mother Barberin!...

"In my opinion, they are not trying to rescue us," said Uncle Gaspard, breaking the silence at last. "We can't hear a sound."

"How can you think that of your comrades?" cried the professor hotly.

"You know well enough that in every mine accident the miners have never deserted one another, and that twenty men, one hundred men, would sooner be killed than leave a comrade without a.s.sistance. You know that well enough."

"That is true," murmured Uncle Gaspard.

"Make no error, they are trying their hardest to reach us. They have two ways, ... one is to bore a tunnel to us down here, the other is to drain off the water."

The men began a vague discussion as to how long it would take to accomplish this task. All realized that we should have to remain at least eight days in our tomb. Eight days! I had heard of miners being imprisoned for twenty-four days, but that was in a story and this was reality. When I was able to fully grasp what this meant, I paid no heed to the talk around me. I was stunned.

Again there was silence. All were plunged in thought. How long we remained so I cannot tell, but suddenly there was a cry;

"The pumps are at work!"

This was said with one voice, for the sounds that had just reached our ears had seemed to touch us by an electric current and we all rose up.

We should be saved!

Carrory took my hand and squeezed it.

"You're a good boy," he said.

"No, you are," I replied.

But he insisted energetically that I was a good boy. His manner was as though he were intoxicated. And so he was; he was intoxicated with hope.

But before we were to see the beautiful sun again and hear the birds in the trees, we were to pa.s.s through long, cruel days of agony, and wonder in anguish if we should ever see the light of day again.

We were all very thirsty. Pages wanted to go down and get some water, but the professor advised him to stay where he was. He feared that the debris which we had piled up would give way beneath his weight and that he would fall into the water.

"Remi is lighter, give him a boot, and he can go down and get water for us all," he said.

Carrory's boot was handed to me, and I prepared to slip down the bank.

"Wait a minute," said the professor; "let me give you a hand."

"Oh, but it's all right, professor," I replied; "if I fall in I can swim."

"Do as I tell you," he insisted; "take my hand."

In his effort to help me he either miscalculated his step, or the coal gave way beneath him, for he slid over the inclined plane and fell head first into the black waters. The lamp, which he held to light me, rolled after him and disappeared also. Instantly we were plunged in darkness, for we were burning only one light,--there was a simultaneous cry from every man. Fortunately, I was already in position to get to the water.

Letting myself slide down on my back, I slipped into the water after the old man.

In my wanderings with Vitalis I had learned to swim and to dive. I was as much at ease in the water as on land, but how could I direct my course in this black hole? I had not thought of that when I let myself slip; I only thought that the old man would be drowned. Where should I look? On which side should I swim? I was wondering, when I felt a firm hand seize my shoulder. I was dragged beneath the water. Kicking out my foot sharply, I rose to the surface. The hand was still grasping my shoulder.

"Hold on, professor," I cried; "keep your head up and we're saved!"

Saved! neither one nor the other was saved. For I did not know which way to swim.

"Speak out, you fellows!" I cried.

"Remi, where are you?"

It was Uncle Gaspard's voice; it came from the left.

"Light the lamp!"