Robert remembered
working this level to within about nine feet from going through on the
heading. If he had plenty of hands, just to go down and drill a hole in
anywhere, and blast out the coal with a shot or two wherever he could
best place them, he might succeed in getting through to the men. It
might be that after the first rush filling the roadways, the flood of
moss had drained off, and was not now running so thickly down the
heading.
"Let me go and try, sir," he pleaded eagerly. "I think I can manage, if
the level is still unbroken. We can work in short turns, so as not to
be overcome with the damp. Will you let me have a try? I believe it's
the only chance we have, and if we do succeed, look what it will mean to
the women in the village. Will you let me try?"
"Yes," replied Anderson, reaching for his lamp, "and I shall be one of
the triers too. Go out and pick seven or eight men. I'll get the
necessary tools and get off over the moor to the old air shaft. It may
still be open. It is a pity we let it go out of repair, but we can have
a trial."
Robert ran out, a hope filling his heart, telling his news to those
round about, and the first man to step forth, before he had finished,
was Dugald McIntosh, the man who had put more value on his canaries than
on his wife's health, who quietly lifted up the drills the manager had
brought, and slinging them lightly over his shoulder, was off across the
moor at a run, with a dozen men at his heels, all eager to get to grips
with the danger, and try to rescue their imprisoned comrades.
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