CHAPTER XXII

WHEN THE WATERS CLOSED OVER HIM

Steve did not cry out when he found himself plunging into the water, principally for the reason that he was too plucky to make an outcry when his safety was imperiled. In the second place, his mind was working so rapidly that he did not have time to cry out.

He struck the water with a splash, broadside on, quickly sinking beneath the surface. Steve was too good a swimmer to swallow any water, however, and began holding his breath even before he struck the water, knowing as he did what was about to happen. The result was that he had propelled himself to the surface before many seconds had elapsed. He came up shaking himself like a water dog, but was careful to make as little noise as possible.

As soon as he succeeded in getting the water out of his eyes, he looked up, expecting to see a light on the platform on the sub-level. All was inky blackness there, and not a sound could be heard save the rush of water.

Young Rush began swimming. He did not know whether there was a ladder extending down into the level or not, so he swam about for some time, feeling along the wall in search of something by which he might pull himself up. But he did not find a projection of any kind. The rocks forming the wall were smooth and slimy and felt like ice to the touch.

He was beginning to feel chilled. Steve tried to recall what the map of the lower level looked like, but try as he might he could not recall a single detail of the map filed in the engineer's office. By this time he did not know where he was. He had lost all sense of direction.

"I guess I am a goner. They've got me this time," he said aloud. "I hope that Mr. Penton will find out how it happened."

The boy was now shivering violently. His teeth were chattering and he began to wonder if he were freezing to death, for the sense of feeling seemed to have left his legs and arms. A numbness was slowly creeping over him.

"I must keep going, or I shall surely be drowned," he cried, once more striking out and swimming as fast as he could, hoping thereby to restore his circulation to its former condition. But the water was too cold and the young miner's efforts grew weaker as the moments passed.

Though he did not know it, the drift of the water on the lower level was toward the large pipes, where it was being sucked to the surface by the powerful pumps above.

As Steve reached over and over in a slow over-hand stroke, which now and then he varied by falling into the frog stroke, he forged slowly ahead until his hands suddenly struck some object that was not the rocky side of the level. The lad grasped it quickly.

"A plank. Thank goodness!" he cried.

The plank had floated off either from the platform or from the lagging somewhere on that level. It made no difference to the swimmer where it had come from. He threw both arms about the plank and lay there resting for some time, breathing heavily. Finally he pulled himself over on the plank, stretching out lengthwise on it. The piece of wood held him up very well. Now and then he would paddle a little with his hands, propelling himself in one direction until it bumped against a wall, floating off with the current again.

While the lad realized that the chances were against his ever getting out of the level alive, he felt little fear. He was one of those rare beings in whom the emotion of fear had not been fully developed.

All the time the numbness was growing upon him. Instinctively realizing that he was likely to lose control of his muscles, Steve wrapped both arms and legs about the plank so that he might not fall off and drown.

At last he became so benumbed and dazed that he could not help himself at all. A warm glow seemed to be spreading itself over his body. He had never felt more comfortable in his life, and a short time afterwards he gave way to his drowsiness.

* * * * *

It was a few moments later that Superintendent Penton and his searching party entered the sub-level in search of Steve. Rush heard them call out his name, but he was too sleepy to answer. Then he heard no more.

When Bob Jarvis cried out "look," Mr. Penton and the mine captain had turned sharply.

"What is it?" they demanded eagerly and in one voice.

"A hat! It's Steve's hat!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Here's his name inside the crown. We wrote our names in with ink at the same time. You can see mine is the same--the same kind of ink--purple."

As the two men started toward Bob the mine captain stumbled over the sounding rope that lay on the platform. He stooped to pick it up, and as he did so he, too, uttered an exclamation.

"This line is wet, Mr. Penton," he said excitedly.

"Then Steve has been casting it. He has been sounding the level, probably to pass away the time while he was waiting for me."

Once more the superintendent raised his voice, calling out the name of Steve Rush. As before there was no response.

"Boys, I see--I understand. Steve has fallen into the level and drowned. No doubt he fell in while casting the lead, for part of the line is dangling over the edge there now. Too bad, too bad. But----"

"He may not be drowned. Let's do something," begged Bob.

"What would you suggest?"

"Why, look for him, of course. I'll go over myself and look for him."

"Lad, it would be suicide. You would drown, even if you were not too chilled to swim after you got into the water. You----"

"I'd like to see any water that could drown me," answered Bob.

"We must have help, and at once. Jim, run up to the next level and telephone for help. Have them send down several men. Be quick about it."

"Ask them to bring ropes," interjected Bob.

"Yes, have them bring down ropes," repeated the superintendent.

Bob began ripping up the planking on the platform. His active mind had thought out a plan and he did not wait for permission to put it into operation.

"What are you doing there, lad?"

"I am making a raft. We have got to have something which will float on the water. We can fasten it together when the men get here with ropes. I'll be ready before they can get here."

Jarvis was working with desperate haste. Perhaps his companion was not yet dead. At least Bob would know that he had done his best.

"Hark!"

"What is it?" whispered Bob.

"I thought I heard someone call. I am sure I did. Rush! Oh, Steve!"

A faint "here," that sounded far away reached their ears.

"He's alive! I tell you, he's alive!" cried Bob Jarvis.

Grabbing the end of one of the planks that he had torn loose, Bob began dragging it toward the edge of the platform.

"What are you going to do, lad?"

"Do? Why, sir, I'm going after him."

"Wait; let the men do that. I cannot have you going in there," objected Mr. Penton. But Bob did not stop. He hauled the plank over, and, snatching the rope, made one end of the latter fast about the plank. He then began letting the plank over the side, end first. It nearly got away from him, the rope burning the skin from his palms as it spun through his hands.

"Let me help you." Mr. Penton sprang forward, throwing himself on the fast running rope.

"The plank is on the water. It can't get away from us now," said Bob, beginning to strip off his jacket, first having stuck his candlestick in a niche in the rocks.

"You are not going over!"

"Yes, sir, I am going over. We haven't a minute to lose."

"I advise you not to do so."

The superintendent was far from being a timid man, but he knew the danger; he felt that his responsibility was too great to permit the boy to enter that black hole.

"You hold the rope. Nothing can happen to me. I am not afraid of ice water, nor any other kind. Maybe I shall be able to find him by the time the men get here. We shall gain some precious minutes in that way."

Next the boy's heavy boots came off, leaving him in his stocking feet. He passed the end of the rope to the superintendent.

"Will you please hold your candle over the edge, so I can see where the plank is, sir?"

Mr. Penton did so.

"Be careful, Jarvis; do be careful," he urged. "I ought not to let you do this. If anything happens to you I shall feel that I am directly responsible."

"Do not fear; nothing will happen to me."

Bob peered down into the dark waters, where, after a moment, he made out the plank floating slowly toward the spot where the pipes disappeared beneath the surface.

"Now, please hold the light up high, so that I can see what I am doing."

The lad poised a moment, then leaped far out into the darkness. Instead of making a dive, head first, Bob chose to go down feet first. His body straightened, and as he neared the water he clasped his hands above his head. He took the water cleanly, making only a slight splash as he disappeared beneath the surface.

As soon as he felt the water closing over him the Iron Boy threw out both hands to stay his progress and began treading water vigorously. He soon regained the surface.

Jarvis came up blowing and puffing, shaking his head and making the water fairly foam about him as he struck out with hands and feet.

"Are you all right, Jarvis?" called Mr. Penton in an anxious tone.

"Yes, where's the plank?"

"To the right of you. A little more to the right. There, it is directly ahead of you now."

A few powerful strokes and Bob had grasped the plank. He pulled himself partly up on it and looked about him.

"Can't you let a candle down to light up this hole?" he called.

"I have nothing to let one down with. Do you see anything?"

"Nothing that I want to see. Ho, Steve!"

"Here," sounded the faint answer that seemed to come from several different directions at the same time.

"Did you hear that?" demanded Bob excitedly. "Where did the sound come from?"

"It sounded to me as though he might be over to the left. Have courage, Steve; we will have you out in a few minutes. I have sent for help. Can you keep up?"

Their ears failed to catch any answer.

"I'm coming, Steve," roared Jarvis. "Keep shouting if you can, so I'll know where you are."

"Stay where you are, Jarvis!" commanded Mr. Penton sternly.

"Do you think I'm going to stay here and let him drown?" demanded the lad. There was a splash as Bob Jarvis left the plank and began ploughing through the water at racing speed.

"He'll be drowned; they both will be drowned!" exclaimed the superintendent. "Such pluck, such pluck! Hurry up, men; hurry!" he shouted as he caught the sound of voices off in the darkness of the sub-level.

Half a dozen men, headed by the mine captain, came running toward him.

"Look out! Look out for the hole in the floor. Have you ropes?"

"Yes."

"Then tie a few planks together. Make a raft and let it over the side. Work fast, for once in your lives! There are two men down there and they may be drowning."

"Oh, Steve!"

They could hear Bob's voice calling to his companion. The voice sounded far away, for Bob had plunged ahead, beating his way courageously through the waters in the black darkness.

"I hear him. He's ahead of me," Jarvis shouted.

"Can you hold out?" called Mr. Penton.

"Yes--_as long as there's water to float on_!" the answer came back faintly.

In the meantime the men were ripping up the planks. Several of these they lashed together and let carefully down over the edge of the platform, or what was left of it. They had made ropes fast at both ends, in order that the raft might make a landing platform.

"Now you men let me down," commanded the superintendent.

"You had better let me go, sir," advised the mine captain. "I am lighter than you."

"It's my place to go; do as I tell you. While I am down there rig a sling to pull us up on. Jim, you take charge of the operations at this end and see that there is no slip anywhere."

"I will, sir," answered the mine captain.

Superintendent Penton grasped the rope that had been made fast to a shore post on the sub-level and let himself down. He was a strong man, used to emergencies and well able to take care of himself anywhere in the mine. Shortly afterwards he was standing on the platform or raft below, steadying himself by holding to the rope and the side wall.

"Are you all right, Bob?" he shouted.

"Yes."

"If he happens to get into a drift, they're both lost. Pass down some candles from above, Jim."

Several were let down on a rope and these Mr. Penton stuck into the wall, lighting up the scene fairly well.

"They're calling you, sir," cried Jim.

"What is it?" roared the superintendent.

"I've got him." It was Jarvis' voice, and Mr. Penton breathed a sigh of relief.