Mr. Penton came, remained a short time, then went away; he, too, convinced that Rush could not recover. Night came on, but still Bob sat beside the hospital cot, one hand slipped under the sheet clasping a hand of his companion. "You had better go home," said the surgeon, seeming for the first time to be aware of Jarvis' presence. Bob did not answer. "I said, you had better go home, Jarvis." "I want to stay," answered the boy simply. "You can do him no good." "When will he get better--or worse?" "I do not look for any change before three o'clock in the morning or thereabouts, so you see it will be useless for you to remain." "All right; I am not sleepy," and Bob turned his face toward the cot, again fixing his gaze on the face of the unconscious Steve. The surgeon shrugged his shoulders and proceeded with his duties. The hours dragged along, but Bob never changed his position nor even moved, so fearful was he of doing something that might retard his friend's recovery. Three o'clock came and still there was no change. Another half hour elapsed. The sky was graying in the east. Steve uttered a low moan. The surgeon was at his side in an instant. He placed an ear to the boy's heart, then took his pulse, watch in hand. Bob's eyes were fixed on the surgeon now. The latter shut his watch with a snap, then noting the pleading question in the watcher's eyes, he nodded. "He is better. The change is coming, and unless something unlooked for occurs he should return to consciousness soon." Bob drew a short, quick breath that was half a sob, settling down into his former watchful position. Now the surgeon remained by the side of the cot. Occasionally he would administer a few drops of medicine. When the patient choked a little and swallowed, the surgeon would nod approvingly. All at once Steve Rush's eyelids fluttered open. His gaze was fixed for a brief instant on the face of his companion. Jarvis held his breath. "Bob," murmured the lad, then closed his eyes wearily. CHAPTER XVI WHAT WAS FOUND IN THE SHAFT "The crisis has passed," announced the surgeon in a relieved tone. Two great tear drops rolled down Bob Jarvis' cheeks. He brushed them away and rose from the chair in which he had been sitting all night. "I'm going home. I must get ready to go to work. If he should become worse won't you please let me know?" "Yes," answered the surgeon, giving the boy a quick, keen glance. "He'll be all right now. No need to worry." Bob went to his boarding place happier and more light of heart than he ever had been before. Steve's recovery was very slow, however. All that day and the next he was too weak to talk, having lost considerable blood. Then again the shock had been greater than many men could have sustained and lived to tell about.