Rufus, with Bigglethorpe's help, had
considerately transferred his prisoner to the punt, and guarded him
there. The store-keeper, taking chisel and mallet in hand, was striking
off chip after chip of rock, in answer to muffled cries from within; and
now the big rock had moved half an inch. Still the brave man worked away
amid the continued explosions, and in spite of the advancing fire. The
block continued to slide, and Bigglethorpe cried: "Take the boats out of
the way, and get back from me, or you will all be crushed in a minute."
The punt was out of danger, but Bill Richards, with a single movement,
shoved off the skiff, and, kneeling on her stern, sent her far out into
the lake. Then he rowed the boat rapidly back into a place of safety.
The slab was still sliding, and had cleared the rock out of which it had
been cut by an inch. A human hand was thrust out, a dumpy, beringed
hand, bleeding with the effort; a most audible voice cried "For God's
sake, 'urry!" and then there came a perfect Babel of explosions, and the
gallant deliverer was forcibly drawn out of a fierce river of liquid
fire that streamed down into the lake, and burned even out on the water.
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