He was experienced miner enough to know that one can only travel quickly in this way in a wet drive full of ruts and pitfalls.

Passing the 'S' drive, where the robbers had done their work, Dick found Harry Hardy just as Rogers had described him, on his back a few feet up the incline from the hand-pump that served to drain the low-lying part of the drive.

His arms were thrown out, and his deadly pale face turned up, the chin pointing to the roof.

Upon his forehead were stains of blood, and he lay like a corpse in the black water.

The flood had risen above his ears, and the boy knew he had come only just in time.
Dick stuck his candle in the soft clay, ran to Harry's head, and lifted it from the water, and kneeling gazed intently into the cold white face.
He thought his friend dead.
'Her father done it!' he murmured.