Winston, his head lowered upon the other’s breast, felt confident he detected breath, even a slight, spasmodic twitching of muscles, and hastily arose to his feet, his mind already aflame with expedients.  The foreman yet lived; perhaps would not prove even seriously injured, if assistance only reached him promptly.  Yet what could he do?  What ought he to attempt doing?  In his present physical condition Winston realized the utter impossibility of transporting that burly body; water, indeed, might serve to revive him, yet that faint trickle of falling drops probably came from some distant fault in the rock which would require much patient search to locate.  The engineer had assumed grave chances in this venture underground; in this moment of victory he felt little inclination to surrender his information, or to sacrifice himself in any quixotic devotion to his assailant.  Yet he must give the fellow a fair chance.  There seemed only one course practicable, the despatching to the helpless man’s assistance of some among that gang of workmen down in Number One.  But could this be accomplished without danger of his own discovery?  Without any immediate revealment of his part in the tragedy?  First of all, he must make sure regarding his own safety; he must reach the surface before the truth became known.

Almost mechanically he picked up his revolver where it lay glittering upon the floor, and stood staring at that recumbent form, slowly maturing a plan of action.  Little by little it assumed shape within his mind.  Swanson was the name of the missing miner, the one Burke had gone back to seek,—­a Swede beyond doubt, and, from what slight glimpse he had of the fellow before Brown grappled with him in the path above, a sturdily built fellow, awkwardly galled.  In all probability such a person would have a deep voice, gruff from the dampness of long working hours below.  Well, he might not succeed in duplicating that exactly, but he could imitate Swedish dialect, and, amid the excitement and darkness, trust to luck.  Let us see; Burke had surely called one of those miners yonder Ole, another Peterson; it would probably help in throwing the fellows off their guard to hear their own names spoken, and they most naturally would expect Swanson to be with the foreman.  It appeared feasible enough, and assuredly was the only plan possible; it must be risked, the earlier the better.  The thought never once occurred to him of thus doing injury to a perfectly innocent man.

He looked once more anxiously at the limp figure of the prostrate Burke, and then, holding the lamp out before him, moved cautiously down the passage toward the main tunnel.  Partially concealing himself amid the denser shadows behind the displaced falsework, he was enabled to look safely down the opening of Number One, and could perceive numerous dark figures moving about under flickering rays of light, while his ears distinguished a sound of voices between the