No answer came from the closed drift.
"They're dead. What's the use in bothering about them?" growled Spooner.
Mr. Penton shot a withering glance at the contractor.
"We will proceed on the theory that they are alive until we have learned that they are not," replied the superintendent coldly.
"Shall we go on raising the lagging?" asked the timber-man.
"No; wait until the powder smoke is out of the drift and some fresh air has taken its place. The two men in there will be suffocated unless we free the place of powder fumes. Remove the drill from the pipe and force a little air through the vent holes. Not too much; just enough to dislodge the smoke and force it out. It won't stand much pressure. There, that will do. Now, jackmen, get to work. Keep on shoveling below there."
Giving his orders calmly and encouragingly, the work proceeded with great success. The diggers were gradually boring in under the timber that the jacks were raising.
After a time their shovels and bars poked a hole through the débris into the drift. It was a small hole, so small that the average man would have difficulty in getting through it.
Among those who had hurried to the scene was Bob Jarvis. He had been using a shovel industriously, and when the opening had been made he stepped up to the superintendent.