"If that's all, we'll soon knock a hole through that, and then, please God, I'll find my crippled lad, an' t' brave one that went back after him. If we find 'em dead, old Tom Evert don't never want to come out alive. He couldn't."
"Never fear, Tom, we'll find them alive," said the mine boss, cheerily. "I have full faith that we shall. If they're only in the big breast we'll have them out in three days more. Now, men, drive those staples into the wall, make the boat fast to them, and pitch in. As soon as you've cut a shelf to work on, I'll go back for fresh hands. This job's going to be done with half-hour reliefs."
Jack Hobson held the staples in position while Tom Evert, lying on his side, drove them into the wall of solid coal with a dozen blows from his heavy hammer.
These were the blows heard faintly by Derrick Sterling on the farther side of that massive wall; and the welcome sound carried with it new life and hope to him and his fainting comrades.
Dropping the hammer, and seizing his pick, the burly miner struck a mighty blow at the wall, and followed it up with others so fast and furious that the coal fell rattling into the boat, or splashing into the water in glistening showers. The work of rescue was begun.
As he sat there, Jack Hobson's eye lighted on a long, dark object floating near them, and calling attention to it, he said,
"Don't you think, sir, that water trough might be bailed out and used as a sort of boat to establish communication between this point and the foot of the slope? I have been used to canoes, and believe I could manage it."
The mine boss said it was a good idea, and he could try if he wanted to.
So the trough, which was simply a long, flat-bottomed box, was brought alongside, bailed out, and placed in charge of the young man from Black Run. He made a rude paddle, and during the next two days did capital service in ferrying miners and tools back and forth between the opposite sides of the chamber. By this addition to the underground fleet the large boat could be left at the entrance to the heading, where it proved most useful as a landing-stage.
The work was pushed with all possible speed, a dozen of the strongest and most skilful miners, who handled their picks with desperate energy, taking half-hourly turns each at driving the heading. Behind the miner who was thus at work, other men passed out the loosened material from hand to hand, and thus kept the opening clear. Whenever there was no demand for his services as ferry-man, Jack Hobson took his place among these workers, and by his cheering words and tireless energy kept up their spirits and spurred them on to greater efforts.