Presently, when they stopped to listen for these voices of the rock to
cease, there was heard a human moan. It seemed to come up from a great
depth out of the darkness before them. They listened earnestly, and the
sound was repeated--the faint cry of a man in grievous pain.
"There must be another level," observed the miner who had volunteered
the search. "This man has fallen down it."
They had therefore to go back for the ladder. Pushing this before them,
the end began presently to run freely, and then stopped; it had adjusted
itself by the side of the shorter ladder which Richard had brought down
with him.
"He could not have fallen, then," observed a miner, answering his
comrade's remark--as is the custom with this class of great doers and
small talkers--at a considerable interval.
"Yes, he could," replied the one who had first spoken. "See, his ladder
was short, and he may have pitched over."
They stood and listened, peering down into the darkness beneath them;
but there was no repetition of the cries. The wounded man had apparently
spent his last strength, perhaps his last breath, in uttering them.
"He must be down here somewhere. Come on."
The situation was sufficiently appalling; but these men had lost half
their terrors, now that they knew there was a fellow-creature needing
help.
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