Presently came the short sharp crack of the explosion and a dull rumble of falling stones. A sudden rush of air, an appalling echo, and the noise of a shower of rock falling from the roof, instantly followed the detonation, and an acrid smell filled the cave. Tearing away my coat from my head, I found that the air current had extinguished the candle, and with considerable haste I struck a match. Stones still fell at intervals from the roof, but my range of vision was limited by the feeble glimmer of the light and the thick haze of the smoke and dust caused by the explosion. Then I heard the sound of returning footsteps, and my name was called. Hastening back to the barrier that held me captive, I saw a shaft of light from the men's lanterns glancing through a narrow hole close to the roof. The aperture was less than eighteen inches in height and slightly more in width, while its upper portion was overhung by a sharp wedge-shaped piece of rock, that reminded me forcibly of the knife of a guillotine. "Tell him to hurry up, sir," I heard the bos'n exclaim anxiously. "A fall may take place at any moment." "Reggie," exclaimed my father, "climb up and squeeze through that hole." "But I can't, father!" I replied, regarding the opening with dismay. "You must!" he repeated sternly--even harshly, it seemed. "Get up, instantly!" Carefully I negotiated the ascent of a bank of shattered rock, till I was on a level with the hole, and, looking through, I could see the heads and shoulders of the rescue party on the other side of the barrier. But the sight of that fearful-looking piece of jagged rock overhanging the way to safety caused my courage to ebb, for in my imagination I saw it slowly, yet surely, descending to crush the life out of my body. "Now, then, hurry up!" repeated my father, in a voice that was sterner than before. With a despairing effort I tried to creep through the aperture, but, being unable to use my arms or legs, the attempt was useless. "Look here, Mr. Reginald," exclaimed the bos'n, "we are going to pass a rope through to you. Put both your feet in the bowline, grip the rope like grim death with your right hand as high above your head as you can reach, and keep your left down close to your side. Give the word when you are ready, and we'll haul you through in a jiffy." The rope was thrust through the hole by means of a long pole, and I did as I was directed, although, I am afraid, I gave the word to haul away in a very undecided tone. A steady strain on the rope, and I began to slide towards the narrow path that led to safety. Grazed by the sharp edges of the jagged rock, my knuckles, hips, and knees bleeding, and my feet jammed together by the strain on the bow-line, I felt that the perilous journey would never end.