Steve's ears were ringing by this time, and during the intervals when he ceased hammering on the timbers or the rock he was overcome by a roaring sound as if a great flood had been suddenly let loose. He did not understand what this meant. The silence of the underground prison had become a chaos of noises, the lad's blows became weaker and at longer intervals apart. "I wonder what--what is the matter with me. I'm getting sleepy," he muttered. A few more blows and the shovel dropped from his nerveless fingers. Steve staggered, then collapsed unconscious across the body of the powder-man. CHAPTER VII "IS ANYONE ALIVE IN THERE?" "Order the timber-men in here! Get a pair of jacks and raise the timbers bodily. Get a move on you, men! We may be able to save them yet!" Superintendent Penton, of the Cousin Jack Mine, had been summoned by telephone at the first sign of trouble. In his miner's outfit, with a green candle stuck in the holder on his hat, he had hurried down into the mine and made his way quickly to the sub-level where the accident had occurred. He needed no guide to reach the place, for he knew the maze of tunnels of that underground hive of industry so well that he could have followed them to any given point with his eyes shut. A few brief, pointed questions had brought out the full story of the accident, but Mr. Penton had not addressed Spooner; he had made his inquiries from the men who had been working on that level and in the drift where the explosion had happened. "Shovelers, here! Throw that rock back! Be careful that you do not undermine the lagging and let the roof all the way down. It's lucky the explosion blew ore enough out to hold the timbers off the ground, or our work would be much more difficult." The superintendent had taken full charge of the operations. His long experience had told him exactly what to do. The official showed no trace of excitement; instead, his every faculty was centered on the work in hand. His tones were stern, his orders sharp and incisive. By this time the jacks had been brought. At the superintendent's direction a heavy timber had been placed as a support under those that had been broken and the jacks set to work. Little by little, creaking and groaning, the wrecked lagging was raised inch by inch. "Steady, there! Hold it, men!" Those at the jacks stopped work. "Let half a dozen shovelers get in there," Penton directed. "Throw out some of that dirt. We must get an opening as soon as possible to let air in. Throw away the larger pieces first." In the meantime the superintendent had ordered a fresh drill brought up, the one belonging to that shift being in the wrecked drift. A line of pipe had been laid to the nearest connection to furnish the compressed air with which to operate the drill.