Fred bit his lips to prevent an outcry. The huge timber was crushing him slowly but surely, and the pain was intense.
Each instant the blows of the men grew fainter. Strength and even the power of movement was rapidly succumbing to the noxious vapor.
Joe was the first to give up, and as the pick fell from his nerveless hands he said faintly:
"It's all over, lads. We might as well pull the timber from Fred, and die at the same moment."
"Don't weaken, mate," Bill said, imploringly. "Who knows but we're within a few inches of the other drift."
"Even if that's true, the chances are we'll be stifled by the gas."
"The alarm may be given in time to save us from the entrance."
"Sam can't have come back yet, an' before any one knows what has happened we shall be dead."
Joe had lost all courage and the apathy of despair was upon him. His words robbed Fred of the last hope, and as it fled consciousness deserted him.
Bill delivered a few more feeble blows with the pick, and then he in turn sank to the ground.