Toward seven o’clock a message directed to him by name came down. A cage would be rigged up within the hour. Before that period elapsed, however, he was summoned to see the poor fellow die who had been delirious ever since he was found and who now passed away in the same state. It was a trying scene coming just when the clergyman’s wrought-up nerves were beginning to feel a reaction—the more trying as all looked to him to do anything that could be done. But that was nothing; and he felt gravely thankful when the poor man’s sufferings were over and the throng of swarthy faces melted from the open doorway. He sat apart a little after that until a commotion outside the cabin and a cheery voice asking for Mr. Lindo summoned him to the door, where he found the same manager who had sent him down the night before, and who now greeted him warmly. “It is not for me to thank you,” Mr. Peat said—“I have nothing to do with this pit—the owner, to whom what has happened will be reported, will do that; but personally I am obliged to you, Mr. Lindo, and I am sure the men are.” “I wanted only to be of help,” the clergyman answered simply. “There was not much I could do.” “Well, that is a matter of opinion,” the manager replied. “I have mine, and I know that the men who have come up have theirs. However, here is the cage; perhaps you will not mind going up with poor Edwards?” “Not at all,” said the rector; and, following the manager to the cage, he stepped into it without any suspicion that this was a trick on the part of Mr. Peat to insure his volunteer’s services being recognized. He found the ascent a very different thing from the descent. The steady upward motion was not unpleasant, and long before the surface was reached his eyes, accustomed to darkness, detected a pale gleam of light stealing downward, and could distinguish the damp brickwork gliding by. Presently the light grew stronger—grew dazzling in its wonderful whiteness. “We are going up nicely,” his companion murmured, remembering in his gratitude that the ascent, which was a trifle to him even with shattered nerves, might be unpleasant to the other—“we are nearly there.” And so they were; and slowly and gently they rose into the broad daylight and the sunshine which seemed to proclaim to the rector’s heart that sorrow may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.