Picture Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY 11 e compressed-air tanks for treatment *ir the bends. ) Never a thought of the man he had ordered back in England flashed !rough Martin's mind. He was beatig both God and conscience ! | The pneumatic drills kept up their inssant pounding. Every one was into :nt on his work. For a moment, enchford happened to glance up. Bejre his eyes a tiny stream of water ckled down the side of the wall. It as larger than any of its neighbors. Even as Henchford gazed, the stream ;adily increased. In a few minutes it gbuld be so great that the space in .nich they were working would be oded. •Quick, lads !" shouted Martin, hrough the shield with you !" The men shot one swift glance tosfcird the spot to which Henchford inted. With one accord, yet without mfusion, they dove through the exit ors. Already the stream was the size a man's arm, and was steadily ineasing. The floor of the chamber lich the men had just quitted was oded several inches deep, and the tide z As steadily rising. W hirling about, Martin grasped the rer which controlled the closing mechfcjkm. Quickly he pulled it over. He ve one startled glance at the shield, te of the doors had failed to close, rough the open door swirled the ter, and his ear told him that the leak vond the door had increased until the >lter was pouring in. \head of him the men were racing ; ter-skelter for the cage. Behind him ';hed the black, murky water. Several of the men jumped into the je and shot it toward the surface. \rrived at the top, they leaped out. .rdly had the last man left the lift 1 re the cable snapped, and the cage \ nged down to the depths below, ashing itself to mere bits of twisted jn and splintered wood. • •» Henchford and two of his compans were still in the tunnel. The water s swirling and eddying about their tts, and steadily rising. Unless help red quickly, they would be engulfed flood, and drowned like rats in a P )verhead the men were paying out a a line of rope to those below, inally the rope dangled before nchford's eyes. Quickly he grasped and passed it around the body of the man he supported in his arm. The poor chap had received a broken leg from a floating timber. "Haul away !" he shouted to those above. Slowly at first, and then more rapidly the inert form was hauled up the shaft. Again the rope wriggled before his eyes. With eager hands he seized it, but even as he started to knot it about the body of his companion, the man went limp in his arms. The water was above his waist, and the strong undercurrent threatened to sweep him off his feet. Holding his unconscious burden as best he could, he twisted the rope about his companion. As he leaned over, a shaft of light from a near-by arc, that fear burst from his lips. On every hand the face of Lord Rexford seemed to be peering out of the murky gloom. He was unconscious of the water that swirled about him. Something struck him in the face, recalling him to his senses. He clutched the rope and, with a shout to those above, began the ascent. At the top of the shaft, eager hands grasped hirn, and carried him to the emergency hospital. The shock to his system had been intense, and for several days he lay on the white iron cot. "There is no God !" he would mutter to himself. "I have no conscience!" But the still, small voice would not down. Before his mental vision would flash the scene of that night in the Val Extending an impressive forefinger, he said: "The people of this State will have the very best that is in me." spluttered and hummed, fell athwart the unconscious man's face. A low moan broke from Henchford's lips. The face before him was not that of a sand hog. It was the face of Lord Rexford ! God had found him. Wearily he drew his hand across his brow; surely his eyes were playing him tricks. With an effort, he gained control of his shattered nerves. "Haul away !" he shouted. Once again he watched a form twist and turn as it was hauled toward the surface. Suddenly the arc light ceased to splutter, and the tunnel was plunged into Stygian blackness. A snarl of rage and ley Road. An internal something seemed to continually cry: "Expiation!" Back at work again, he was not afflicted with those uncanny visions and voices. Diligently he applied himself to whatever task came to hand. In him his employers recognized real worth and ability. Promotion followed promotion, until he had become the general superintendent of construction. His salary was large, and he had nearly everything that heart could wish for. Then came the crowning happiness of his life. At a reception he had met Elizabeth Bradford, daughter of the head of the construction company. It was a case of love at first sight. In his wooing he was the same masterful type