As Steve reached over and over in a slow over-hand stroke, which now and then he varied by falling into the frog stroke, he forged slowly ahead until his hands suddenly struck some object that was not the rocky side of the level. The lad grasped it quickly. "A plank. Thank goodness!" he cried. The plank had floated off either from the platform or from the lagging somewhere on that level. It made no difference to the swimmer where it had come from. He threw both arms about the plank and lay there resting for some time, breathing heavily. Finally he pulled himself over on the plank, stretching out lengthwise on it. The piece of wood held him up very well. Now and then he would paddle a little with his hands, propelling himself in one direction until it bumped against a wall, floating off with the current again. While the lad realized that the chances were against his ever getting out of the level alive, he felt little fear. He was one of those rare beings in whom the emotion of fear had not been fully developed. All the time the numbness was growing upon him. Instinctively realizing that he was likely to lose control of his muscles, Steve wrapped both arms and legs about the plank so that he might not fall off and drown. At last he became so benumbed and dazed that he could not help himself at all. A warm glow seemed to be spreading itself over his body. He had never felt more comfortable in his life, and a short time afterwards he gave way to his drowsiness. * * * * * It was a few moments later that Superintendent Penton and his searching party entered the sub-level in search of Steve. Rush heard them call out his name, but he was too sleepy to answer. Then he heard no more. When Bob Jarvis cried out "look," Mr. Penton and the mine captain had turned sharply. "What is it?" they demanded eagerly and in one voice. "A hat! It's Steve's hat!" "Are you sure?" "Yes. Here's his name inside the crown. We wrote our names in with ink at the same time. You can see mine is the same--the same kind of ink--purple." As the two men started toward Bob the mine captain stumbled over the sounding rope that lay on the platform. He stooped to pick it up, and as he did so he, too, uttered an exclamation. "This line is wet, Mr. Penton," he said excitedly. "Then Steve has been casting it. He has been sounding the level, probably to pass away the time while he was waiting for me." Once more the superintendent raised his voice, calling out the name of Steve Rush. As before there was no response. "Boys, I see--I understand. Steve has fallen into the level and drowned. No doubt he fell in while casting the lead, for part of the line is dangling over the edge there now. Too bad, too bad. But----" "He may not be drowned. Let's do something," begged Bob. "What would you suggest?" "Why, look for him, of course. I'll go over myself and look for him."