There was a vicious grinding noise from the walled end of the passage. A moment later a blinding ray of light swung in, to focus upon them. "Ricky! Val!" Val was blinking stupidly at the light, but Ricky had presence of mind enough to answer. "Here we are!" "Look out," Val roused enough to warn, "the walls are unsafe!" "We're coming through," rang the answer out of the dark. "Stand away!" Now that they could see, Val realized for the first time the danger of their position. A jagged, water-rotted beam half covered with clay and sand lay across him, and beyond that was a mass of splintered wood and wet earth. A little sick, he looked up at Ricky. She was staring at the wreckage. Her eyes were black in a white, mud-smeared face. "Val--Val!" His name came as the thinnest of whispers. "It isn't as bad as it looks," he said hurriedly. "Something underneath must be supporting most of the weight or--or I wouldn't be here at all." "Val," she repeated, and then, paying no heed to his frantic injunctions to keep away, she dug at earth and rotten wood with her hands. Using the long bundle clumsily wrapped in stained canvas, she levered a piece of beam out of the way so that she might get down on her knees and scoop up the sand and clay. "Ricky! Val!" The light swung ahead as someone scrambled through the hole in the barrier wall. Then, when the ray held firm upon them, the headlong rush was checked for a long instant. "Val!" "Get her--away," he begged. "Another--slip--" But before he had done, a long arm gathered Ricky up as if she had been a child. "Right," came the firm answer. "Sam, take Miss 'Chanda back. Then--" Val was watching the reflection of the flash on the broken roof above him. Sand slid in tiny streams down the wall, mingling with the greenish trickles of water. There were queer blue and green arcs painted on the brick which had something to do with the hot pain behind his eyes. The blue turned to orange--to scarlet-- "Careful! Right here in the hall, Holmes--" The broken earth above him had somehow been changed to a high ceiling, the chill darkness to blazing light and warmth. "Ricky?" he asked. "Here, Val." Her face was very close to his. "You--are--all--right?" "'Course!" But she was crying. "Don't try to talk, Val. You must be quiet." He heard someone moving toward them but he kept his eyes on Ricky's face. "We did it!" "Yes," she answered slowly, "we did it." "Val, don't try to talk." Rupert's face showed above Ricky's hunched shoulder. There was an odd, strained look about his mouth, a smear of mud across his cheek. But the harsh tone of his voice struck his brother as dumb as if he had slapped him. "Sorry," Val shaped the words stiffly, "all my fault." "Nothing's your fault," Ricky's indignant answer cut in. "But--but just be quiet, Val, until the doctor comes."