But he did not doubt for a moment that he would be rescued in time.
They would come down and get him, he knew, as soon as the shaft could
be cleared out. The crashing still continued, but it was not so loud
now, indicating, probably, that the burning wreckage had reached to a
great height in the shaft.
The rubbish at the foot had become so tightly wedged to the floor of
the mine that it had no chance to burn, and by and by the glow from
the burning wood was entirely extinguished, the sparks sputtered and
went out, and darkness settled slowly down again upon the place.
Ralph still sat there, because that was the spot nearest to where
human beings were, and that was the way of approach when they should
come to rescue him.
At last there was only the faint glimmer from his own little lamp
to light up the gloom, and the noises in the shaft had died almost
entirely away.
Then came a sense of loneliness and desolation to be added to his
fear. Silence and darkness are great promoters of despondency. But he
still hoped for the best.
After a time he became aware that he was sitting in an atmosphere
growing dense with smoke. The air current had become reversed, at
intervals, and had sent the smoke pouring out from among the charred
timbers in dense volumes. It choked the boy, and he was obliged to
move. Instinctively he made his way along the passage to which he was
most accustomed toward the foot of the plane.
Here he stopped and seated himself again, but he did not stay long.
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