“The boys have rigged the derrick. Shall we start in to dump the rock?”
Kit nodded, and when the man vanished, touched Austin.
“Don’t talk, Bob. Let me handle things. We’ll soon have all fixed.”
“I don’t want to talk,” said Austin. “I want to lie down.”
Kit waited with some anxiety. Bob was obviously ill, but the men must not know, and Kit hoped the skip would soon arrive. By and by a big steel bucket swung across the platform and a load of broken rock splashed in the river. Austin got into the skip awkwardly, for Kit dared not help, but when he jumped on the edge and seized the chain, he called the foreman.
“Keep going! I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
The bucket went up and stopped at the plankway along the bridge. Kit saw the gang was occupied, and putting his arm round Austin, steered him to an unloaded trolley. Austin leaned against him and Kit imagined he did not know where they went. When they got on board he shouted for two or three men.
“My office! Shove her along!”
The trolley rolled ahead and the tossing fires melted in the snow. The trees along the track bent in the wind and the noise was like the roar of the sea. One could not see four yards in front; but at length a faint glimmer pierced the snow and the trolley stopped. Austin got down, Kit signalled the others to go back, and when the trolley vanished guided Austin to the door. When they got inside, Austin dropped into a chair. His eyes were half shut, he shivered and his face was gray.
“I expect the pulley hit me, although I didn’t feel the knock,” he said. “However, I ought not to quit——”