We were not in a position to show politeness. Uncle Gaspard went first, I followed, then came the professor. Before we had reached the top of the ladder a rush of water fell, extinguishing our lamps.
"Hold on," cried Uncle Gaspard.
We clung to the rungs. But some men who were below us were thrown off. The fall of water had turned into a veritable avalanche.
We were on the first landing. Water was here also. We had no lights, for our lamps had been put out.
"I'm afraid we are lost," said the professor quietly; "say your prayers, my boy."
At this moment seven or eight miners with lamps came running in our direction, trying to reach the ladder. The water was now rushing through the mine in a regular torrent, dragging in its mad course pieces of wood, whirling them round like feathers.
"We must make for an airshaft, boys," said the professor. "That is the only place where we might find refuge. Give me a lamp."
Usually no one took any notice of the old man when he spoke, unless it was to make fun of him, but the strongest man there had lost his nerve and it was the voice of the old man, whom they had mocked so often, that they were now ready to obey. A lamp was handed to him. He seized it and dragged me along with him, taking the lead. He, more than any man, knew every nook and corner
