Judson was a hundred yards down the tunnel, racing like a trained
sprinter for the western exit, before he thought to ask himself why the
third man was playing the madman before the locked door. But that was a
matter negligible to him; his affair was to get out of the mine with the
loss of the fewest possible seconds of time--to win out, to climb the
ridge, and to descend the eastern slope to the old workings before the
two plotters should disappear beyond the hope of rediscovery.
He did his best, flying down the long tunnel reaches with little regard
for the precarious footing, tripping over the cross-ties of the
miniature tramway and colliding with the walls, now and then, between
the widely separated electric bulbs. Far below, in the deeper levels, he
could hear the drumming chatter of the power-drills and the purring of
the compressed air, but the upper gangway was deserted, and it was not
until he was stumbling through the timbered portal that a watchman rose
up out of the shadows to confront and halt him. There was no time to
spare for soft words or skilful evasions.
Pages:
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310