I wondered if the space under the roof of the gallery was big enough for me to move freely. That was the question. After some strokes I found that I could swim if I went gently. I knew that there was a meeting of galleries not far away, but I had to be cautious, for if I made a mistake in the course I should lose my way. The roof and the walls of the gallery were not enough to guide me; on the ground there was a surer guide, the rails. If I followed them I should be sure to find the ladders. From time to time I let my feet go down and, having touched the iron rails, I rose up again, gently. With the voices of my companions behind me and the rails under my feet, I was not lost. As the voices became less distinct, the noise of the pumps increased. I was advancing. Thank God, I should soon see the light of day! Going straight down the middle of the gallery, I had only to turn to the right to touch the rail. I went on a little farther, then dived again to touch the rail. It was not there! I went from side to side of the gallery, but there was no rail! I had made a mistake. The voices of my companions only reached me in the faintest murmur. I took in a deep breath, then plunged again but with no more success. There were no rails! I had taken the wrong level; without knowing, I must have turned back. But how was it the others were not shouting. If they were I could not hear them. I was distracted, for I did not know which way to turn in this cold, black water. Then, suddenly, I heard the sounds of voices again and I knew which way to turn. After having taken a dozen strokes back, I turned to the right, then to the left, but only found the walls. Where were the rails? I was sure now that I was in the right level, then I suddenly realized that the railroad had been carried away by the rush of waters, and that I had no guide. Under these circumstances it was impossible for me to carry out my plan, and I was forced to turn back. I swam back quickly to our place of refuge, the voices guiding me. As I approached, it seemed to me that my companions' voices were more assured as though they felt stronger. I was soon at the entrance of the shaft! I hallooed to them. "Come back; come back," shouted the professor. "I could not find the way," I called out. "Never mind, the tunnel is nearly finished: they hear our cries and we can hear theirs. We shall soon speak." I climbed quickly up to our landing and listened. We could hear the blows from the picks and the cries of those who worked for our freedom came to us feebly, but yet very distinct. After the first rush of joy, I realized that I was frozen. As there were no warm clothes to give me, they buried me up to the neck in coal dust and Uncle Gaspard and the professor huddled up against me to keep me warm.