crowd. The miners would have gladly halted, but what would happen then? To go back was to go to certain destruction. As long as they followed Ivan, they had a vague hope of some mysterious aid, reckoning on the unknown power which supported him and had restored to him for some hours a little of his former vigour for the deliverance of his comrades perhaps. Those who had no belief in this hesitated nevertheless to separate from the rest, knowing not what to do in this silence and darkness. If they had to die, they would die together. At any rate, they soon understood that they would have inevitably perished in the gallery which they had just left, for they had hardly been following the old man for an hour when a dull and prolonged sound was heard in the distance. Then it came nearer, as though it were pursuing them. Its last echo seemed to them quite close, behind the wall they were skirting at that moment. It was evident that the gallery where they worked, as well the one which they had just quitted, had both fallen in. If they had remained there, they would have shared the fate of those of their comrades whose hands and feet only were projecting from the mass of earth which covered them.

The distant shock also re-echoed in the gallery they were traversing when they heard it. Fragments of earth fell from the roof and a great rock suddenly projected just above old Ivan's head, while the wall on the right hand bulged out. The miners rushed forward terrified, but Ivan stopped them and made them go more slowly. Some cowards flung themselves on their stomachs and hid their faces, but they were lifted up and obliged to proceed. The gallery they were now in became narrower and narrower. After having begun their march five abreast, they could now only go two by two with difficulty. A few minutes more, and they were obliged to walk in single file. Then the chief miner let the rest go in front of him and took the last place. He was among the few who had not lost their heads and acted thus, lest some cowards might remain behind stretched on the ground in an access of blind fear.

The gallery became ever more contracted. However, that did not seem to trouble old Ivan, who continued to advance with confidence. He still saw distinctly the white Apparition Who shed a mysterious radiance in the darkness. From time to time he murmured, "Here I am Lord, here I am!" and that renewed his strength.

Even now when his two elbows touched the walls, and the lowness of the rocky roof above his head prevented him raising his torch which he was obliged to hold in front of him a little slanted and at arm's length, the old man never doubted that he was guided by our Lord in person, Who pointed him out the way. Behind him the miners were half suffocated because the thick smoke of the torches filled the narrow passage in which it was difficult to breathe, as the confined atmosphere had been unchanged for an immeasurable time. This was apparent by the way in which the flames of the torches lengthened themselves, seeming to seek the oxygen they required, and then burning dimly in the darkness.

All at once Ivan halted. He was confronted by a dead wall without any apparent outlet. However, doubt was not possible for him, for he had distinctly seen the white Apparition pass through the wall. Now it was waiting for him on the other side of the wall which had so unexpectedly intervened.

"He has stopped there; I have seen Him!" Ivan stretched out his lean arm in front of him, no one knew why.

The chief miner decided to make a last attempt, "Let us dig, my children! We must make a way for ourselves."

But though he gave the order, he doubted whether there was anything on the other side of the wall but a mass of earth, rocks and ore. Fortunately, just here the passage was a little wider and they could work three abreast. They set to work bravely. However, the flames of the torches exhausted the air and they grew very dim. Their smoke blinded and half-choked the miners, but they persisted and dug huge holes in the earth which was not very hard.

Leaning his back against a wall, Ivan looked straight in front of him. He knew that behind this mass of earth and stones the Apparition which he had known so well in his childhood awaited him.

"We are buried alive!" murmured one of the men.

"Are we making any way?" asked the chief miner, ignoring the remark.

But the men, with perspiration pouring from them, continued their work without replying.

VIII

Half an hour passed in this way. Half-suffocated, some of the miners lay down flat on the ground. Many of them hid their faces as though unwilling to see death face to face—death which seemed so horrible in this black hole so far from the earth's surface. The pickaxes and shovels which were at work on the wall which barred their progress moved but slowly. Finally, the last batch who were working stopped, having no longer the strength to continue. In vain were their chests expanded to take deeper breaths—they were stifled, their throats were contracted, blood rushed to their heads; the air was failing them. The horrible consciousness of certain death was weighing upon them. But in any case the unfortunate men would not have had the strength to escape from this grim cul-de-sac. Their torches, flung to the earth, burnt no longer, but filled with smoke the gloom in which they were plunged.

The chief miner had an attack of vertigo. At his side a young miner began to bleed copiously at the mouth; another was struggling on the ground in an epileptic fit. Some began cursing and quarrelling or accusing old Ivan and the chief miner. One man uttered a cry, for another stretched at his side, had, in his frenzy, seized him by the throat. The chief miner thought he saw red streaks in the black darkness and felt as though something damp and slimy glided over his face. He collected all his remaining strength, rose with difficulty and took up his pickaxe again. His legs tottered. Several times he buried the pick in the black mass of earth which scattered and crumbled beneath his blows; his tool sank under the projecting rock and fragments of damp earth fell with a dull sound. He felt his arms grow numb and threaten to drop the tool.

"Can any of you help me?" he murmured, but he perceived with terror that he was voiceless, for although he thought he had spoken aloud, no one had heard him. It was like a struggle in a nightmare when the dreamer sees some terrible sight, e.g., an assassin creeping towards his bed, and tries to cry but in vain, for he is dumb. He makes a fresh effort as fruitless as the last and sees the assassin's knife come nearer. A fiendish face bends over him. He collects his last strength; it seems to him that his cry must wake the whole house and be heard in the street, yet the sleeping cat curled up on his bed does not hear the feeble groan which escapes from his labouring chest, "Come and help me!"

Well, it was the end. There was nothing more to hope for. Mechanically his hand again thrust the pick under the projecting rock. He felt a shock of surprise; the pick passed right through it; a shudder thrilled him; he clenched his teeth, made a superhuman effort, buried his pick still more deeply, throwing as much weight into it as he could, and then fell prostrate, his face towards the ground. His pickaxe had escaped from his hand and fallen through to the other side.

Through the opening thus formed there rushed a gust of refreshing air which at once increased in strength. The smoking torches which had been flung on the ground were spontaneously re-kindled. Their flame licked the walls. The miners began to breathe heavily; those who had half