"Harry!" But there was no answer.

Again he shouted, then he returned to his work, his heart aching in unison with his muscles.

Behind that broken mass, Fairchild felt sure, was his partner, torn, bleeding through the effects of some accident, he did not know what, past answering his calls, perhaps dead.

Greater became the hole in the cave-in; soon it was large enough to admit his body.

Seizing his carbide lamp, Fairchild made for the opening and crawled through, hurrying onward toward the chamber where the stope began, calling Harry's name at every step, in vain.