Three minutes after, he re-appears, and says: "There's been an accident of some kind. Cars have broken loose and are smashed down there at the bottom, and boulders and loose rock are piled up, cutting off somebody. He's alive yet! I heard him moaning." Then he suddenly whispers, growing very pale: "My God--if it is she!" Lovers are always fearful. Next he cries: "Run, Ferdie, up to the Mineral Hill--it's only three hundred feet from here--tell them to send down half a dozen miners like lightning!" And Chauncey flying on his errand, a sudden idea coming into Lawrence's mind, he steps to the air-pipe, and using it as a speaking-tube, shouts down: "Halloo there! Who are you? Are you too much injured to speak?" And listening, there comes up to him from the depths faintly, through the tube: "I'm uninjured, but am bound and helpless." "Who are you?" "R. H. Tranyon." To this, Harry suddenly screams back: "Your daughter!--for God's sake, tell me where she is!" "Why should I tell you that?" "Because I'm Harry Lawrence!" And through the tube comes faintly up to him: "Thank God! You are here to save her!" "From what? My Heaven! From what?" shrieks Lawrence down the tube. "From Lot Kruger, bishop in the Mormon Church, who has buried me here--who is now pursuing her!" "Good God! For what?" "To marry her!" "Don't fear for that!" cries Harry. Then he grinds out between his clenched teeth: "The accursed polygamist'll be dead before that happens!" A second after he shouts down: "Give me the particulars," and gets them up the tube. Finally he says: "How long have you been there?" "I can't tell. It seems days. I was buried here on December 1st, early in the morning." "Why," cries Harry, joyfully: "it's December 1st now. You haven't been there five hours." Then he goes on: "Kruger's only four hours ahead of me. You rest quietly. The miners will have you out in two or three hours. You make up your mind your daughter's safe, if it's in human power! She might die, but never marry Kruger." Here Ferdie, coming back with some miners, is very much astonished to hear Lawrence say hurriedly to him: "Get the men down that incline. Remove the rocks and get Tranyon out!" "And you," cries Chauncey, "where are you going?" for Harry has already turned to leave the dump pile. "To save his daughter!" And before the last word is out of his mouth, Lawrence is speeding down the trail to Eureka, where in twenty minutes he gets a fresh team, and driving through the storm, which has now become blinding, and through the night, which comes on too soon, and being compelled to go very slowly, for the snow is drifting heavily, he makes Salt Lake City early in the morning. Going straight to the Townsend House, Harry says to the clerk: "Don't make any mistake this time, young man, in your information. Miss Travenion is here?" "No, not here!" "Good Heavens!"