“You’re making a mistake,” said Hal quietly. “We’re not miners—know nothing about mines. We’ve never been below.”
“You’ll be miners or corpses within the next few days,” bellowed the German. “Go on there!”
“How about some grub?” questioned Hal. “We’ve had nothing to eat for more than twenty-four hours. We won’t be able to work very well without food, you know.”
“You’ll eat to-night,” snarled the German. “Not before.”
Hal shrugged again. He was hungry, felt faint, even, and so did Chester, but there was no help for it. The lads trudged on in silence.
Soon they came to the opening of the mine shaft, some distance from where they had spent the night. Other forms began to gather, and Hal guessed rightly that this was the new shift coming to work.
Men commenced to appear from below, their faces, hands and clothing black. These, the lads knew, were the prisoners who had been working all night.
There was a faint streak of light in the east. The day would break soon.
Now the German guards hustled Hal and Chester and the other prisoners into the mine shaft, where they were told off into crews of four and five men each. Hal and Chester found themselves together, with a British infantryman and a French sergeant of cavalry completing their crew. Directly, picks were thrust into their hands, and they were provided with gas helmets, upon each of which burned a small safety light. Then they were marched to the mouth of the shaft, where they awaited their turn at the car that was to carry them below.
“You fellows have not been down before, I take it,” said the English private to Hal.