The flame of his lamp burned round and dim, so dim that he could scarcely see across the heading.

The mule came up to him and put out his nose to touch the boy’s hand.

“I guess we may as well stay here.  Jasper,” he said.  “This is the furthest place away from the shaft, an’ if we can’t stan’ it here we can’t stan’ it nowhere.”

The beast seemed to understand him, for he lay down then, with his head resting on Ralph’s knee.  They remained for a long time in that position, and Ralph listened anxiously for some sound from the direction of the shaft.  He began to think finally that it was foolish to expect help as yet.  No human being could get through the gas and smoke to him.  The mine would first need to be ventilated.  But he felt that the air was growing constantly more foul and heavy.  His head was aching, he labored greatly in breathing, and he seemed to be confused and sleepy.  He arose and tried to walk a little to keep awake.  He knew that sleep was dangerous.  But he was too tired to walk and he soon came back and sat down again by the mule.

“I’m a-tryin’, Jasper,” he said, “I’m a-tryin’ my best to hold out; but I’m afraid it ain’t a-goin’ to do much good; I can’t see much chance”—­

He stopped suddenly.  A thought had struck him.  He seized his lamp and oil-can and pushed ahead across the air-way and up into Conway’s chamber.

The mule arose with much difficulty and staggered weakly after him.  A new hope had arisen in the boy’s heart, an inspiration toward life had put strength into his limbs.

At the breast of the chamber he set down his lamp and can, climbed up on to the shelf of coal, and began tearing out the slate and rubbish from the little opening in the wall that Conway had that day shown to him.  If he could once get through into the old mine he knew that he should find pure air and—­life.

The opening was too small to admit his body, but that was nothing; there were tools here, and he still had strength enough to work.  He dragged the drill up to the face but it was too heavy for him to handle, and the stroke he was able to make with it was wholly without effect.  His work with the clumsy sledge was still less useful, and before he had struck the third blow the instrument fell from his nerveless hands.

He was exhausted by the effort and lay down on the bed of coal to rest, gasping for breath.

He thought if only the air current would come from the other mine into this what a blessing it would be; but, alas! the draft was the other way.  The poisoned air was being drawn swiftly into the old mine, making a whistling noise as it crossed the sharp edges of the aperture.

Ralph knew that very soon the strong current would bring in smoke and fouler air, and he rose to make still another effort.  He went down and brought up the pick.  It was worn and light and he could handle it more easily.  He began picking away at the edges of coal to enlarge the opening.  But the labor soon exhausted him, and he sat down with his back against the aperture to intercept the passage of air while he recovered his breath.