The engine-room door, too, had opened, admitting the chief and his assistant. Not until he had examined each mechanical tragedy below did the chief give time to the human one above.
"Where's that man that's hurt?" he asked as he came, slowly, from an inspection of the burned-out bearings down the shaft alley.
Neville went with him to the store-room. Dan, sagging under fatigue, clung to the bench where Larry lay moaning.
"You can go now, Sullivan," Neville told him.
Dan raised his head, remorse, entreaty, stubbornness in his look.
"Let me be! I'll not leave him!"
The chief turned to Neville.
"What's come over that drunk?" he asked.
"Ever since the Mouse got hurt, Sullivan's acted queer, just like a woman."
"Get to your quarters, Sullivan," the chief ordered. "We'll take care of this man."