By-and-by both boys slept.
Jack alone remained awake and thoughtful. His face gave token of great physical suffering. Once he lifted the cover from the basket, and looked hungrily and longingly at the little portion of food that remained. Then he replaced the lid, and set the basket back resolutely on the ledge.
“No! no!” he murmured. “I mus’ na tak’ it oot o’ the mou’s o’ Tom Taylor’s bairns.”
For a long time he sat motionless, with his chin in his hands, and his eyes fixed on the sleeping lads. Then, straightening up, there came into his face a look of heroic resolution.
“I’ll do it!” he said, aloud. “It’ll be better for us a’.”
The sound of his voice awakened Tom, who had slept for some hours, and who now arose and began again his monotonous walk up and down the heading.
After a while, Jack motioned to him to come and sit beside him on the bench.
“I ha’ summat to say to ye,” he said. Then, with a glance at the sleeping boy, “Come ye up the airway a bit.”
The two walked up the airway a short distance, and sat down on a broken prop by the side of the track.