“And work gently,” cried Uncle Dick.
Then, in the midst of the gloom we could hear the rattling of bricks and stones, and though we could see nothing we could realise that these brave men were digging down with their hands to try and get out the buried stoker.
The flames burned up brightly, casting curious shadows, and though we could see nothing, lighting the men over their gallant task, while I, as I gazed in, trying to penetrate the gloom, felt as if I ought to be there by my uncles’ side.
This feeling grew so strong that at last I took a few steps forward, but only to be seized by a pair of strong arms and brought back.
“Nay, nay, lad,” said a voice that I started to hear, for it was Gentles’; “there’s plenty risking their lives theer. Yow stay.”
Just then there was a hoarse shriek of terror, a wild yell from the crowd, for a curious rushing rumble was heard, a dull thud, and another cloud of dust came rolling out, looking like smoke as it mingled with the fire.
In the midst of this the men who had been digging in the ruins came rushing out.
“Part of the roof,” cried Uncle Dick, panting, “and the rest’s falling. Are you all here, lads?”
“Ay, all,” was answered as they looked from one to the other in the flickering light.
“Nay, not all,” shouted Stevens. “Owd lad Pannell’s buried alive. I see ’un fall.”