“There’s more ladders in the world than one,” observed the cripple.  “Here’s my grandson, John; he and half a dozen of these young fellows would fetch Farmer Gray’s in less than no time.  Come, lads—­be off with ye.”

This suggestion was highly applauded, except by the miner who had so injudiciously compromised himself, and was carried out at once.

When the ladder arrived the three other miners, ashamed of deserting their comrade, volunteered to descend with him.  The excitement among the spectators was great, indeed, when these four men disappeared in the levels of Wheal Danes, as Richard had done before them.  The light of their combined torches lingered a little in their rear; the sound of their voices, as they halloed to one another or to the missing man, was heard for several minutes.  But darkness and silence swallowed them up also, and the watchers gazed on one another aghast.

It is not an easy thing, even for those accustomed to underground labor, to search an unfamiliar spot by torch-light; the fitful gleam makes the objects on which it falls difficult of identification.  It is doubtful whether one has seen this or that before or not—­whether we are not retracing old ground.  Even to practiced eyes these objects, too, are not so salient as the tree or the stone which marks a locality above-ground; add to this, in the present case, that the searchers were momently in expectation of coming upon something which they sought and yet feared to find, and it will be seen that their progress was of necessity but slow.  They kept together, too, as close as sheep, which narrowed the compass of their researches, and caused their combined torches to distribute only as much light as one man would have done provided with a chandelier.  They knew, however, that their predecessor had descended into the second level, so that they did not need to explore the first at all.  The ground was hard, and gave forth echoes to their cautious but heavy tread; their cries of “Hollo!” “Are you there?” which they reiterated, like nervous children playing hide-and-seek, reverberated from roof to wall.

Presently, when they stopped to listen for these voices of the rock to cease, there was heard a human moan.  It seemed to come up from a great depth out of the darkness before them.  They listened earnestly, and the sound was repeated—­the faint cry of a man in grievous pain.

“There must be another level,” observed the miner who had volunteered the search.  “This man has fallen down it.”

They had therefore to go back for the ladder.  Pushing this before them, the end began presently to run freely, and then stopped; it had adjusted itself by the side of the shorter ladder which Richard had brought down with him.

“He could not have fallen, then,” observed a miner, answering his comrade’s remark—­as is the custom with this class of great doers and small talkers—­at a considerable interval.