But they might send the carriage down again if he rang for it.

He ran across and seized the handle of the bell wire and pulled it with all his might.  The wire gave way somewhere above him and came coiling down upon his head.  He threw it from him and turned again toward the opening of the shaft.  Then the carriage did descend.  It came down the shaft for the last time in its brief existence, came like a thunderbolt, struck the floor of the mine with a great shock and—­collapsed.  It was just a mass of fragments covered by an iron roof—­that was all.  On top of it fell a storm of blazing sticks and timbers, filling up the space at the foot, piling a mass of wreckage high into the narrow confines of the shaft.

Ralph retreated to the footman’s bench, and sat there looking vaguely at the burning heap and listening to the crash of falling bodies, and the deep roar of the flames that coursed upward out of sight.  He could hardly realize the danger of his situation, it had all come upon him so suddenly.  He knew, however, that he was probably the only human being in the mine, that the only way of escape was by the shaft, and that that was blocked.

But he did not doubt for a moment that he would be rescued in time.  They would come down and get him, he knew, as soon as the shaft could be cleared out.  The crashing still continued, but it was not so loud now, indicating, probably, that the burning wreckage had reached to a great height in the shaft.

The rubbish at the foot had become so tightly wedged to the floor of the mine that it had no chance to burn, and by and by the glow from the burning wood was entirely extinguished, the sparks sputtered and went out, and darkness settled slowly down again upon the place.

Ralph still sat there, because that was the spot nearest to where human beings were, and that was the way of approach when they should come to rescue him.

At last there was only the faint glimmer from his own little lamp to light up the gloom, and the noises in the shaft had died almost entirely away.

Then came a sense of loneliness and desolation to be added to his fear.  Silence and darkness are great promoters of despondency.  But he still hoped for the best.

After a time he became aware that he was sitting in an atmosphere growing dense with smoke.  The air current had become reversed, at intervals, and had sent the smoke pouring out from among the charred timbers in dense volumes.  It choked the boy, and he was obliged to move.  Instinctively he made his way along the passage to which he was most accustomed toward the foot of the plane.

Here he stopped and seated himself again, but he did not stay long.  The smoke soon reached him, surrounded him, and choked him again.  He walked slowly up the plane.  When he reached the head he was tired and his limbs were trembling.  He went across to the bench by the wheel and sat down on it.  He thought to wait here until help should come.