Charley was quick to act. Sitting down on the floor, he placed his feet against the end of the slab and pressed downward. The end of the stone immediately tipped downward, exposing the dark hole beneath, and the lad shoved his rifle across the opening to prevent the slab from lifting back into place. From below him came a call that sent his heart bounding with joy: "Is that you, Charley?" it said. "Yes. Are you hurt, Walt?" replied the delighted lad. "Not much; some bruises, and a bump on my head, that's all. But, for goodness sake, hurry and get me out of here. The air is so foul it is making me feel faint. Get the ropes off the ponies, and fasten them together. I do not believe this hole is more than fifteen feet deep. But hurry, hurry!" Charley was off like a shot and back in a few minutes with the halters from the two ponies. Hastily knotting them together, he fastened one end to a projecting stone in the wall, and let the other end down to his chum, who, white-faced and shaken, crawled up it, hand over hand. Pausing only to secure their rifles and the ropes, the two lads hurried out into the open air. "Gee!" said Walter, drawing long breaths of the sweet, pure air, "I thought I was a goner that time. I kept calling and calling after I fell, but when you did not answer I knew that you could not hear me. When I was sure that my voice did not penetrate outside of the hole I gave up hope, for I was positive that you would not find out the secret of that slab unless you stepped upon it, and, if you did that, there would be two of us buried alive, instead of one. Ugh!" he concluded, with a shudder, "I know now what fear is--genuine, blind, unreasoning fear."