Onward--onward--at last to make a small opening in the barricade, and to lean close to it that he might shout again.

But still there was no answer.
Feverish now, Fairchild worked with all the reserve strength that was in him.

He seized great chunks of rock that he could not even have budged at an ordinary time and threw them far behind him.

His pick struck again and again with a vicious, clanging reverberation; the hole widened.

Once more Fairchild leaned toward it.
"Harry!" he called.