Explosion of "Fire-Damp."
"With only one shaft, you can see what a mess that made! Before any digging could be done, the lining of the shaft had to be repaired, because dirt and rocks were falling into the shaft all the time. Miners—hundreds of them—were brought from neighboring mines, and they worked night and day on two-hour shifts, clinging to the sides of the shaft as thick as bees in a hive. Others, risking their lives with every stroke of the pick, dug away at the earth and rock that had fallen on the big chunk of machinery. With all the speed that human effort could compass, it was six days and nights before a hole had been made through the obstruction big enough for a man to pass. And, when the first rescuer reached the workings below, the 200 men were dead. Not a single one survived. The miners had been entombed alive without any air passage and could do nothing, absolutely nothing, to help themselves out of their living grave.
"Ever since then, every colliery in Europe and the United States is required to have two shafts, and the law demands that these shall be no less than fifteen yards apart and connected by a wide passage. Not only that, but each shaft must have a complete outfit of winding machinery coupled to separate engines, so that, in the event of an accident happening to one shaft, the men below ground can be rescued up the other."
"That sounds all right," said Anton, rather gloomily, "but suppose the way to both shafts is blocked?"
"Not likely," Clem responded cheerfully, "if a mine has been properly laid out. Take this one, there are half a dozen ways to get from the face to the shaft."
"But Otto said—"
The other turned upon him sharply.
"I've had about enough of that Otto business! If you can't keep from thinking about it, keep from talking about it, anyhow!"
To this rebuke Anton maintained a stubborn silence, and, without another word said, the two walked on until they reached their respective places of work.