No, it had been only one minute. Twice that long yet to go. God! Nothing could be that brutal—a bull elephant couldn't take it—but by all the gods of space and all the devils in hell, he'd stay with it until that sag broke through. And grimly, doggedly, toward the end nine-tenths unconsciously, Lensman Conway Costigan stayed with it.
And in the stope so far below, a new and highly authoritative voice blared from the speaker.
"Jones! God damn it, Jones, answer me! If Jones isn't there, somebody else answer me—anybody!"
"Yes, sir?" Wright was afraid to answer that peremptory call, but more afraid not to.
"Jones? This is Clancy."
"No, sir. Not Jones. Wright, sir—top miner."
"Where's Jones?"
"Up in the sag, sir. He's holding the burley—alone."
"Alone! Hell's purple fires! Tell him to—how many men has he got on the rotary?"
"Two, sir. That's all they's room for."