"Keep silence, now," said the Mine Bureau's surgeon to the waiting crowd. "No cheers or shouts remember! The nerves of the men are apt to be at the breaking point."
The silence added to the tension. The atmosphere was electric with anxiety.
What was happening?
The cage was rising slowly, slowly!
Surely the men were there!
It reached the surface.
A limp form was borne out and laid on a waiting stretcher.
It was Anton, his face pinched, his lips blue.
In the next cage, Jim Getwood was brought up. On seeing his condition, the mine doctor shook his head dubiously. Artificial respiration was begun, then and there.
The cage rose for the third time, bearing Clem Swinton, unconscious like his comrades, but clearly in better case.