She rose as if to follow him, but, at a gesture of command, she stood
still. He picked up the rope and crowbar slowly, and in a dazed, blinded
way, that, in her agony of impatience and alarm, seemed protracted
to cruel infinity. Then he turned, and, raising her hand to his lips,
kissed it slowly, looked at her again, and the next moment was gone.

He did not return; for at the end of the next half-hour, when they laid
before her the half-conscious, breathing body of her husband, safe and
unharmed, but for exhaustion and some slight bruises, she learned that
the worst fears of the workmen had been realized. In releasing him, a
second cave had taken place. They had barely time to snatch away the
helpless body of her husband, before the strong frame of his rescuer,
Cyrus Hawkins, was struck and smitten down in his place.

For two hours he lay there, crushed and broken-limbed, with a heavy beam
lying across his breast, in sight of all, conscious and patient. For two
hours they had labored around him, wildly, despairingly, hopefully, with
the wills of gods and the strength of giants; and at the end of that
time they came to an upright timber, which rested its base upon the
beam. There was a cry for axes, and one was already swinging in the air,
when the dying man called to them feebly,--

"Don't cut that upright!"

"Why?"

"It will bring down the whole gallery with it."

"How?"