With a curse the villain strove to carry out his threat; but Frank hung on to his grip well. Backward and forward they swayed in a severe test of muscular strength. Frank Reade, Jr., was not a heavy man, but extremely quick and muscular. He managed to hold his own. Suddenly voices were heard in the distance, and lights flashed. Frank knew at once that the greasers were coming that way, and he understood well the result. If they should come up while in struggle thus, his fate would be sealed. They would no doubt kill him on the spot. This filled him with desperate resolution, and he made a reckless attempt to end the struggle then and there. Exerting all his strength, he swung his adversary against the wall of the passage. With such force did the villain strike the wall that he was for a moment stunned. It was Frank’s chance. Quick as a flash he severed his hold with the foe and darted away in the darkness. When the fellow recovered an instant later, his would-be victim was missing. His wrath is not easily depicted in words or with the pen. Yelling oaths and fierce imprecations he started in pursuit. But Frank had got a good start, and went flying down the dark shaft like a meteor. On he kept at full speed, taking the chances of falling into a hole. In a few moments he had distanced his pursuer. He came to a halt somewhat out of breath. There was no doubt but that the villain had taken another corridor and was far astray. The lights and the sound of voices had disappeared. For the nonce Frank knew that he was safe, and he felt relieved. He sank down upon the damp floor of the mine passage to recover his breath and strength. Every muscle in his body was aching from his experience with the villain. It had been a hard tussle and he came off victorious only at a great expense of muscular power. For some moments Frank rested in this manner. Then he once more regained his feet. He knew the great importance of escaping from the place. He thought of Barney, and at that moment a singular sound came to his hearing. It was like the yawn of a waking person. The next moment a familiar voice in a muttering key broke the air: “Bejabers, I’ve been ashleep, an’ more’s the shame to me. Phwativer will Misther Frank think, whin I tell him of it? But shure I was that tired I could niver kape me eyes open at all, at all.” Frank gave a start of joy. How familiar were those tones to him. It was Barney. Impulsively he cried: “Hullo, Barney! Thank Heaven we are reunited.” “Misther Frank!” cried the Celt, with wildest joy. “Shure is that yez, sor?” “It’s nobody else.” “Begorra, I’m that glad to see yez that I cud sthand on me head.” The next moment the faithful Celt was by Frank’s side, wringing his hand. That was an affectionate meeting between master and servant. One was scarcely less glad than the other. Both were overjoyed. Then they recounted experiences.