As soon as the rock had been removed sufficiently, the official ordered the drill set in place. He indicated where the drilling was to be done and a moment later the steady "bang, bang" of the diamond drill filled the air to the exclusion of all other sounds. "She's through, sir," announced the drill-man, nodding to the superintendent. "Withdraw the drill." The official placed his nose to the hole thus made, and shook his head. "You haven't reached it. Try a hole above the shoring. We must get air in there." Again the powerful drill began its work. Gathered in a closely massed group were the other miners waiting, silent, anxious, the flames of candles on their caps flickering and swaying from side to side in the faint draft that swirled through the long, dark cavern. Attention was divided between the working drill and the calm-faced, strong, resourceful man who was directing the operations. He was master and the men knew it. "All right." announced the drill-man again. The superintendent nodded. The drill was withdrawn. Following it came a little puff of white, nauseating smoke. "We've hit it," announced the executive calmly. "Now, bore another hole on the same line but about six feet to the left, so we shall get a draft through the enclosed drift." This was promptly done. The superintendent, as soon as the noise of the drill had ceased, placed his lips close to the hole thus made. "Hello, in there! Is anyone alive in there?" No answer came from the closed drift. "They're dead. What's the use in bothering about them?" growled Spooner. Mr. Penton shot a withering glance at the contractor. "We will proceed on the theory that they are alive until we have learned that they are not," replied the superintendent coldly. "Shall we go on raising the lagging?" asked the timber-man. "No; wait until the powder smoke is out of the drift and some fresh air has taken its place. The two men in there will be suffocated unless we free the place of powder fumes. Remove the drill from the pipe and force a little air through the vent holes. Not too much; just enough to dislodge the smoke and force it out. It won't stand much pressure. There, that will do. Now, jackmen, get to work. Keep on shoveling below there." Giving his orders calmly and encouragingly, the work proceeded with great success. The diggers were gradually boring in under the timber that the jacks were raising. After a time their shovels and bars poked a hole through the débris into the drift. It was a small hole, so small that the average man would have difficulty in getting through it. Among those who had hurried to the scene was Bob Jarvis. He had been using a shovel industriously, and when the opening had been made he stepped up to the superintendent. "I think I can crawl in there now, if you will let me. I want to get that Hurry-up kid out," added Bob.