Читать книгу Tales from the works of G. A. Henty (G. A. Henty) (Literary Thoughts Edition) - G. A. Henty - Страница 11

When he came to himself again he was being carried on Bill Haden's shoulder.

"All right, dad!" he said. "I am coming round now; put me down."

"That's a good job, Jack. I thought you would scarce come round again."

"Have you got either of the others?"

"We've got Brook; you had your arm round him so tight that Ned and I lifted you together. He's on ahead; the masons are carrying him, and Ned is showing the way. Can you walk now?"

"Yes, I'm better now. How did you manage to breathe, dad?"

"We didn't breathe, Jack; we're too old hands for that. When we saw you fall we just drew back, took a breath, and then shut our mouths, and went down for you just the same as if we'd been a groping for you under water. We got hold of you both, lifted you up, and carried you along as far as we could before we drew a breath again. You're sharp, Jack, but you don't know everything yet."

And Bill Haden chuckled to find that for once his practical experience taught him something that Jack had not learned from his books.

Jack now hurried along after Bill Haden, and in a few minutes reached the place fixed upon. Here the miners were engaged in restoring Mr. Brook, who was just beginning to show signs of life. It was not until Mr. Brook was able to sit up that they began to talk about the future.

Jack's account of the state of things near the shaft was listened to gravely. The fact that the whole of the ventilation had been put out of order, and the proof given by the second explosion that the mine was somewhere on fire, were understood. It sounded their death-knell.

Gallant and unceasing would be the efforts made under any other circumstance to rescue them. But the fact that the pit was on fire, and that fresh explosions might at any moment take place, would make it an act of simple madness for their friends above to try to clear the shaft and headings, and to restore the ventilation.

The fact was further made clear by a sudden flicker of the lamps, and a faint shake, followed by a distant rumble.

"Another blast," Bill Haden said. "That settles us, lads. We may as well turn out all the lamps but two, so as to have light as long as we last out."

"Is there no hope?" Mr. Brook asked presently, coming forward after he had heard from Haden's mate the manner in which he had been so far saved.

"None, master," said Bill Haden. "We are like rats in a trap; and it would have been kinder of us if we had let you lie as you were."

"Your intention was equally kind," Mr. Brook said. "But is there nothing that we can do?"

"Nothing," Bill Haden said. "We have got our dinners with us, and might make them last, a mouthful at a time, to keep life in us for a week or more. But what would be the use of it? It may be weeks—ay, or months—before they can stifle the fire and make their way here."

"Can you suggest nothing, Jack?" Mr. Brook asked. "You are the only officer of the pit left now," he added with a faint smile.

Jack had not spoken since he reached the stall, but had sat down on a block of coal, with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands—a favourite attitude of his when thinking deeply.