shaft, appeared the first gleam of daylight, like the pale blushes of early morning. The impression which the miner's story had made upon me was so great that I could not help trembling in every limb.
"It was very nearly ten years ago," said the miner, in a hollow voice, "since Felipe threw himself down this abyss, and I have never ascended the shaft since, and that has been often, without having a strong desire to cut the cable."
And the madman brandished a large knife, as if he were preparing to carry it really into effect. I would have called aloud for assistance, but, as in a frightful dream, my tongue refused to perform its office. My hands even refused to grasp the rope. Besides, what good would it do me? the cable was going to be cut right above my head. I threw a mournful look at the pale light which was tinging the green walls of the shaft, and listened to the indefinite noises which told me we were slowly approaching the haunts of men the dusky daylight appeared so beautiful the confused noises above seemed such delightful harmony. At this moment a peal of subterranean thunder burst up under my feet, and the mine roared through its many mouths like a growling volcano. The compressed air being inclosed in this enormous siphon, a powerful blast, equal to that of a strong whirlwind, shook the cable like a silk thread, and we received several severe bruises against the rocks. The torch was blown out; but, luckily, the terrible knife slipped from the miner's hands, and went whirring down the shaft.
"Cascaras! a new knife gone, worth two piastres," cried a voice, which I immediately recognized as that of Fuentes. I had scarcely pronounced his name ere
