“They’re callin’ strikes on me,” he muttered, and blinded, choking and fighting for breath he began crawling back—back, as though from that smothering poison there could be any retreat.
Stories of the catastrophe met Wayne on his way up the valley, though it was said that no lives had been lost; but when he reached Denbeigh the officials had checked their pay-rolls and Joe and the Pole were the only miners not accounted for. No one doubted that both had perished. Repeated efforts had already been made to penetrate into the mine, and volunteers were not lacking. Joe had been popular with all classes and the fact that he had turned his back on safety to succour a fallen comrade added poignancy to the general sorrow.
A huge crowd stood helplessly about the silent breaker, and when he had gathered the latest news Wayne sought Craig at the superintendent’s office, where the mine officials were conferring with the State inspectors, and made himself known. It was not a time for explanations; Wayne bent with them over the blue-prints of the workings.
“We’ll try getting in through the upper slope as soon as it’s safe,” said the engineer. “It’s all to the bad down there—I’ve gone myself as far as possible, and some of my men were knocked out by the gas and had to be carried out.”
“But the men may be alive—and one of them is my friend.”
The engineer looked at Craighill curiously. This was not the Wayne Craighill he remembered from his days at the “Tech,” and not the man he had heard of from time to time as dissolute and worthless. But Wayne had taken his own courses at the Institute, and on technical matters used the terminology of the mines; but the engineer shook his head at Wayne’s suggestions. They were interesting, but impracticable. The small loss of life was miraculous, considering the extent of the collapse; there was much cause for gratitude, and the engineer’s chief concern, it was clear, was to save the property of his employers.
“There are two men down there; they may not be dead,” Wayne insisted.
“If they weren’t crushed to death, they have been smothered by gas or maybe drowned,” declared the engineer.
“Work only from the upper slope—turn every air fan you can get in there—every fan in the valley, if necessary, and you can do it. Those men must be about there,” and he indicated a point on the blue-print. “From the stories of the men who met Joe going toward the new gangway you can hit pretty close to the place where the fall stopped him.”