He was on the moor, and there was the discomfort of cold
in his limbs; but--yes, he was looking at the pit, and there was a long
stream of men, women and children, principally women and children,
running frantically across the moor towards the pit, and he could hear
the faint sound of their voices, which clearly betokened suffering,
anxiety and alarm. Something had happened. He must have been looking at
that procession for a long time, he realized, and pulling himself
together, he bounded to his feet and was off in a long striding race
through the moor towards the pit, his heart telling him that something
had happened which was out of the ordinary kind of accident that
regularly happened at a coal mine. He bounded along, knowing as he went
that there was something more of sorrow for his mother in this, whatever
it was. He felt so, but could not account for the feeling, and as this
thought grew in intensity in his mind, he changed his course a bit, and
made for home, to ascertain what had really happened. It was something
big, he felt, but whatever it was, his mother must again be called upon
to suffer, and his alarm grew with his pace, until he arrived breathless
at the house.
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