“Ye should no stay here, Mistress Taylor,” he said. “When the lads be found ye s’all know it; I’ll bring ’em to ye mysel’. Mos’ like they’re back o’ the fall, an’ it’ll tak’ time to get ’em—all nicht maybe, maybe longer; but when they’re found, ye s’all not be long knowin’ it.”
“O Sandy! ye’ll spare naught; ye’ll spare naught for ’em?”
“We’ll spare naught,” he said.
He had started with her towards home, helping her along until the bend in the road disclosed the light in her cottage window; and then, bidding her to be hopeful, and of strong heart, he left her, and hurried back to aid in the work of rescue.
The outer line of the fall, and the openings into it, had already been searched; and all the missing had been accounted for—some living, some dead, and some to whom death would have been a happy relief—all the missing, save Tom Taylor and his blind brother.
It was well known that their route to the foot of the slope lay by the new north heading; and, along this passage, the entire work of rescue was now concentrated. The boys would be found, either buried under the fall, or imprisoned back of it.
At some points in the heading, the rescuing parties found the rock and coal wedged in so solidly that the opening of a few feet was the work of an hour; again, the huge blocks and slabs were piled up, irregularly; and, again, there would be short distances that were wholly clear.
But no matter what these miners met, their work never for one moment ceased nor lagged. They said little; men do not talk much under a pressure like that; but every muscle was tense, every sense on the alert; they were at the supreme height of physical effort.
Such labor was possible only for a few hours at a time, but the tools scarcely ceased in their motion, so quickly were they caught up by fresh hands, from the exhausted ones that dropped them.
Men do not work like that for money. No riches of earth could charge nerve and muscle with such energetic fire. It was, indeed, a labor of love.