CHAPTER III
THE DANGERS OF RESCUE
The midday whistle of the mine had just begun, when a violent blast ofair roared up the intake shaft, followed by a portentous--
Cra-a-ack!
A terrific crash rose from the bowels of the earth.
The growling rumble of the underground disaster came rolling upward inthrobbing volumes of sound.
The ground trembled, the buildings shook, the lofty skeleton of thepit-head gear wavered as though about to let fall the huge revolvingwheels overhead.
From the engine-house, from the pumping-room, from the ventilationbuilding, from the screeners and washers, from the picking-belts, fromthe loading-yards, from the coking-ovens, from every corner of thevast above-ground works of a modern colliery, the men came running.
Some were white of face, some sooty, but all bore an expression ofthe most extreme anxiety.
The mine superintendent, who was also the owner, the mine boss, andthe mining engineer were among the first at the shaft. The doctor andhospital attendant--whom the law requires to be maintained at allmines employing more than a hundred men--arrived but a few secondslater.
The superintendent, a vigorous Australian, who had taken part in manya sensational mining rush in his youth, and who had inherited theownership of this coal mine from a distant relative but a few yearsbefore, leaped into action. Orders came rattling like hail.
All haulage of coal from below was stopped. The engine on the secondshaft was thrown into gear, and the cages in both shafts were sentdown to bring up the men.
Would there be any to bring?
What did the crash denote? A mere fall of roof, which might cause theloss of a few lives, or a vast explosion which would sweep every manbelow ground to death in a few seconds?
The cages had hardly reached the bottom when there came the secondcrash.
The crowd around the shaft was thickening. The doors of the hundredsof cottages clustered in rows about the colliery had been thrown open;from every direction the women came running, their shawls streamingbehind them. Many of them had already lost fathers or husbands or sonsbelow ground; all knew the awful menace of that sickening rumble.
With all the speed that the winding-engines could be made to give, thecages were hauled up. They had not yet reached the top when a suddencry of horror arose. Otto, who had not gone home, despite hisabandonment of the day's work, but who had hung around the pit-headall day, pointed with his finger to the steep hillside that roseabruptly above the mine.
The hill itself was falling!
The pine forest swayed, as though the huge trees were but blades ofgrass, seemed to move downward a few yards, sending up a cloud ofdust, and then fairly plunged down the slope in an avalanche of rocks,trees and earth mixed with tremendous bowlders. With a roar like thefall of a near-by thunderbolt, the landslide ripped away the side ofthe hill, the ground settling with a shiver like that of anearthquake, and sagging perceptibly.
"Sound the emergency whistle!" came the command.
A minute or two later, a series of shrill screeches gave the signalfor summoning the rescue corps. Nearly all American mines, followingthe requirements and suggestions of the U. S. Bureau of Mines,maintain elaborately equipped rescue stations, manned by picked minerswho are regularly drilled in the use of the apparatus.
Before the emergency signal had finished sounding the second time,both the rescue team and the first-aid team were at their places.Simultaneously, the cages containing the first load of miners came tothe top.
A great sigh of relief went up.
"Well?" queried the superintendent to one of the mine foremen, who wasin the first cage.
"A big roof-fall, sir," was the reply. "It was still fallin' when Icame up. I left Lloyd to handle the men at the bottom while I came upto report."
"Gas?"
"None showin' as yet, sir. But I came right away. It might gather abit later."
"How many missing?"
"Can't tell, sir. Most o' the men seemed to be gettin' clear."
"Ready to go down again?"
"Sure!"
"All right, get in the cage, then."
The assistant superintendent, the mining engineer, the safetyinspector, and the fire boss were already in. The foreman jumped inbeside them, and the cage rattled down to the bottom.
Already the word had spread to the gathering crowd that the accidentwas but a roof-fall, not an explosion, that two cages full of minershad come and that there was a likelihood that most of the men weresafe.
Volunteers clustered around the mine-owner, clamoring to be allowed togo down.
"We'll dig 'em out, sir!" they cried cheerily.
"Keep back, men!" was the answer. "Wait till we know just what has tobe done. Maybe every one below ground will have a chance to get out."
There was need for caution. While mine disasters are numerous--overtwo thousand men being killed every year in United States collieriesalone--such an accident as this one had rarely happened before. Thelandslide above, combined with the sinking of the strata below,produced a condition which might be of the extremest danger.
The foreman of the pumping plant was the first to find evidence ofthis trouble. He hurried forward, consternation on his face.
"Mr Owens, the pumps have quit working!"
"What's wrong?"
"Pipes busted, sir, probably. The turbine's goin' all right, but she'ssuckin' air."
"How much water were you throwing this morning?"
"Over three thousand gallons an hour, sir."
"H'm, it won't take long to drown the mine at that rate. And if thereare any poor fellows cut off--"
He turned to the store-house keeper.
"Got plenty of spare pipe?"
"Lots of it, sir."
"Get it out!"
Then, to the mine boss:
"Murchison, get a new pipe down the uptake shaft as quick as you knowhow! Double pay for every man working on the job! Put them on thejump!"
As fast as his eye could travel round the circle of eager men, theboss picked his workers, miners of tried worth.
Almost as though by magic a line was formed from the storehouse to theshaft. Mechanics, with their tools ready, were on the ladders by thetime the first joint of pipe reached the shaft, and the firstnine-foot length was flanged on in less than five minutes after thegiving of the order. So fast were the joints thimbled and bracedagainst the side of the shaft that the long pipe seemed to grow like aliving thing. In an hour's time, the pumps were going again.
Meanwhile, the time clerk, not needing to wait for his orders, hadchecked the names of all the men who had come up the shaft, until thecage came up empty save for the foreman.
"That's the last," he said.
The time clerk closed his book and nodded, then went to thesuperintendent.
"Eight missing, sir."
"That's bad enough, though it might have been a good deal worse. Makeout a detailed list and bring it here."
Truly it was bad enough. The fire boss and safety engineer hadreported that fire had broken out in some part of the mine, probably,for white damp was leaking through. The report of the mining engineerwas graver still. The first subsidence of the mine had caused thelandslide, and the shock of the landslide had crushed all thegalleries leading from the shafts.
"You mean that all the workings are smashed in?"
"I wouldn't say that. They can't be, the way the workings are laidout. But there's more rock to be cleared away than I like to thinkabout. How many men are caught?"
"Eight."
"Do you know whereabouts, Mr Owens?"
"I'll tell you in a minute. Here's the clerk now." He scanned thelist. "Well, three of them were working in the end galleries."
"They might be safe," interjected the mining engineer. "That's underthe hill."
"Two of them," the superintendent continued, "were working in thebroken, out towards the old workings, and the other three were nearthe North Gallery."
&nb
sp; "We might get at the last three, but, judging from the lie, the oldworkings section will be choked until Doomsday."
"You mean we can't try to get those two men out?"
The mining engineer looked his chief full in the face.
"No, you can't," he said bluntly. "There's a fair chance of rescue inthe North Gallery section, and, as for the others, we might drivegalleries through to the rooms under the hill--though it'll take sometime. The two men in the old workings are gone. They're probablysmashed under the fall, anyway."
"I'll get all those men out or break my neck trying!" burst out theowner of the mine.
"If you scatter your forces, you won't do anything," the miningengineer retorted. As an expert in his profession, he was prepared toback his own opinion against all the officials of the mine, from theowner down, the more so as he knew that his chief had not spent hislife in coal mining.
Owens glared at him, but he knew that the engineer was right.
"Lay out the work, then, since you know so much! I'll have the gangsready, by the time you are. You think the men in the end galleries canbe got at?"
"I'm sure of it, if they hold out long enough, and if they're luckyenough to escape the damps. Our main trouble is going to be thetimbering. Now, the farther in we go, the farther we get from thebreak. The roof will be solid back there, most likely. That's why Ithink a good chance of rescue lies that way."
"Get at that end first, then. Clem Swinton's in that group of men. I'dbe sorry to lose him. He's the most promising young fellow in themine."
The mining engineer nodded.
"I know him. He's been attending the night school. You're right. Wecan't afford to lose him. It's easy enough to find miners--especiallyforeigners--but a young American who wants to learn the collierybusiness thoroughly is rare. I've had my eye on him, too."
At this point, Otto, who had been edging near his superiors and whohad overheard the conversation, broke in.
"You don't need to worry over Clem Swinton, Mr. Owens," he said."Clem'll get a good scare out o' this, an' that's about all."
"How do you know, Otto?" The superintendent spoke good-humoredly, forhe knew and liked the old man. On more than one occasion, when astrike was threatened Otto's good sense had held back hisfellow-miners from violent measures, and his chiefs recognized bothhis popularity and his loyalty. "Did your friends the 'knockers' tellyou so?"
"They did, Mr Owens," was the unperturbed answer. "You'll see if Iain't right!"
"I hope you are. I'll put you in charge of one of the gangs at thatend, if you like."
"I was a-goin' to," responded Otto, who had never doubted that hewould be chosen for the post.
By four o'clock in the afternoon, work had been thoroughly organized.The pumps had got control of the water, a temporary ventilatingcircuit had been established in an effort to keep the mine airpure--for the main system had been destroyed by the fall, and themining gangs were at work, digging away the obstruction and loadingwith feverish haste.
This was a very different matter from hewing coal, which is alwayslaid out in regular seams and naturally divided by splitting planes.The rock from the strata above had fallen into the galleries at allangles, and was mixed up with the crushed and partly splinteredtimbers of the roof and sides. Blasting had to be done on a smallscale and with extreme caution, for there was fire damp in the mine,due to the lack of complete ventilation.
The road-bed and rails, on which the cars for the transporting of thedebris must run, were flattened and twisted. It was necessary to laydown new rails, however shakily. Moreover, since all the coalconveyors and electric haulage systems were a tangle of wreckage, theloaded cars had to be pushed by hand all the way along the undergroundgalleries, to the bottom of the shaft.
The timbering gangs had a desperate job to do, for there was no solidflat roof overhead under which props could be put, nor could enoughtime be given to build a stable timber roof. Yet, upon the ability ofthe timber boss hung the lives of all the rescuers.
Night came, but without any slacking of the work. The electricalengineer and his staff strung temporary wires, and, both below groundand above ground, the colliery workings were as bright as day.
The scene was one of furious rush. Neighboring mines sent gangs tohelp. Cars loaded with mine timbers came from all the near-bycollieries. The news of the accident, published in the local eveningpapers, had brought offers of help from every quarter. Beforemidnight, officials from the Bureau of Mines were on the scene.
At 3 o'clock in the morning, one of the great Rescue Cars maintainedby the Bureau rolled into the railroad yards of the colliery. In thiscar were experts whose principal work was the direction of rescueoperations in mining disasters, and the car contained a completeequipment of all the most modern scientific appliances.
The first rays of Saturday's dawn showed the crowd still gatheredaround the shaft. Owens, hollow-eyed from lack of sleep and fromwatching, was still directing the operations, but with the advice andassistance of government officials.
The work was proceeding apace. The miners' picks rang incessantly,without a second's pause, each man streaming with perspiration as hetoiled. Rails were put down as fast as the obstruction was dug away.The timber gangs strove like madmen. Each shift was for two hoursonly, with no pause between, for there were men and to spare.
So the day and the night passed.
At ten o'clock on Sunday morning, there came a cry--
"She's fallin' again!"
A tremor ran through the mine.
Another shifting of the strata imperilled all the excavation that hadbeen done.
A few minutes' hesitation might have been fatal, but the timber gangsrushed forward, though the props were bending on every side of themand threatened, from second to second, to engulf them in falling rock.In a haste that approached to panic, timbers were thrust up andbraced, so that but a small section of the roof fell.
Some of the miners quit, the more readily as a couple of them werebadly hurt in the little fall, but for every man who showed the whitefeather, there were a score to volunteer. They were led by Owenshimself, who was at the bottom of the shaft when the fall came. Withall the fire of his adventurous youth, he seized a pick and ranforward to the most dangerous place, crying:
"Those men are to be got out, or I'll die down here with them! Whofollows?"
There was no farther talk of quitting.
On Monday there arrived from Washington a Bureau of Mines expert, witha new listening-device, known as a geophone. This is an instrumentworked on the microphone plan, so sensitive that it responds to theslightest vibration, even through dense rock-strata, hundreds of feetthick.
"Stop work, all!" came the order. "Not a word, not a whisper! Keepyour feet and hands as still as if you were frozen!"
There was a tense five minutes as the geophone expert listened.
Presently he detached from his head the ear-clamps leading to themicrophone receiver.
"The men are alive!" he declared. "I hear them knocking!"
"To work, men!" cried the boss, and the picks rang with redoubledzest.
It was Tuesday, shortly before dawn, when the rescuers pierced thefirst obstruction, only to find another and a worse break beyond.
A draft of air sucked through. Almost immediately the caps of thesafety lamps showed blue. At the same time, the safety inspectorcalled, "Back from the face, men! Back, all!"
He pointed to the little cage he had been holding.
The canaries had collapsed!
Carbon monoxide was pouring out, the deadly white damp, that kills asit strikes!
The hewers retreated, grumbling.
"We can stand it, with reliefs!" they declared.
But the Bureau man was adamant.
"Get back when you're told," he said shortly. "We'll get those men outall right. Bring the gas gang here!"
Then it was that the researches of the trained workers of the Bureauof Mines showed to their best advantage.
Along th
e gallery came a line of strange-eyed and humped figures,inhuman of appearance, wearing the newly devised respirators by whichmen can work in the most vitiated air without harm.
There are several types of these "gas masks," most of them based onthe principle of carrying compressed oxygen for breathing, and bearingchambers containing chemicals which absorb the carbonic acid gas andmoisture of the exhaled breath. These masks proved their utility atthe great explosion at Courrieres in 1906, the greatest miningdisaster on record, when 1100 miners were killed.
INTO THE POISON-FILLED AIR!
Rescue-Crew of the U. S. Bureau of Mines, equipped withoxygen-breathing apparatus, facing the deadly "damps."
_Courtesy of U. S. Bureau of Mines._]
U. S. BUREAU OF MINES RESCUE CAR.]
INTERIOR VIEW, SHOWING LIFE-SAVING EQUIPMENT.]
It was not long, however, before it became evident that there was alimit to the usefulness of the respirators. Excellent as they were forexploring galleries filled with poisonous gas, it was difficult to dofast digging in them. The work slowed down.
"Look here, Mr. Owens," protested Otto, "if we don't go no faster'nwe're goin' now, it'll be a month afore we get through. Let us go in!If the gas is bad, we'll take hour shifts, or half-hour shifts, orten-minute shifts, if it comes to that! The men'll tough it out aslong as they can!"
"What about it?" said the superintendent, to the Director of theBureau of Mines car.
"If the men are willing to take the risk! But we can purify the air tosome extent, anyway. I've a man down there with a Burrell gasdetector, which is several hundred times more sensitive than anycanary, so that we can keep a close watch on the air changes, andthere are plenty of tanks of compressed oxygen to be got. I've somehere in the car, and a telegram to Pittsburgh will bring us more in afew hours. We can put in another bellows, too.
"This miner's right enough, about the digging. Fast work can't be donein respirators. The men will have to use electric cap lamps, ofcourse, but I've a big supply in the car."
Back into the poisoned air the miners went. That strain soon testedout the men, and, as the old miner had said to Clem, a week before,the young men and the single men were compelled to give up, first. OldOtto stood up to his work with the best of them, but forty minutes ata stretch was as long as any of the men could stand.
On Tuesday night, the rescuers working out from the up-take shaftbroke through the obstruction into the North Gallery. The three menwho had been imprisoned there were found asleep, close to the sleepthat knows no waking, terribly poisoned by the lack of oxygen.
The mine doctor, who had been waiting at the face until the moment ofbreaking through, was the first through the hole. Rapidly he examinedthe unconscious men.
"One's nearly gone," he shouted back, "but I reckon we can save allthree!"
A mighty cheer rolled through the galleries at the news that the NorthGallery men were saved. It was echoed at the shaft and above ground.
Without loss of time, the men were brought to the open air and rushedto the mine hospital. Two hours passed before the first of themrecovered consciousness.
The geophone expert was at his bedside, waiting impatiently.
"Have you been knocking any signals lately?" he asked, eagerly, assoon as the survivor was able to speak.
"No," the miner answered feebly, "we'd gave up. Thought it wasn't nouse."
"I heard knocking again this morning," the expert announced. "The menat the far galleries must be alive still!"
Wednesday saw no diminution of the endeavor, but more than half theminers of the rescue crews were down and out, suffering to a greateror lesser degree from the terrible strain of the short shifts in thedeadly mixture of fire damp and white damp. Yet volunteers were asplentiful as ever, for both the mine managers and the miners ofneighboring collieries stood ready to help.
By Wednesday night came the cheering news that the roof overhead wasmore solid and that the rock fall had not broken in the floor. Thecars rattled in and out, a car to each shaft in less than threeminutes, loaded and pushed by willing hands. With the North Gallerymen saved, both shafts had been set hauling the debris from thegalleries leading to where Clem, Anton, and Jim were imprisoned.
At breakfast time, Thursday morning, just at the change of shift, thegeophone expert reported voices.
The message was sped aloft:
"The men are still alive! We have heard them talking!"
The news seemed too good to be credited. Seven days the three men hadbeen entombed, seven days without food, water or light, seven days infoul air, probably impregnated with noxious vapors.[1]
[Footnote 1: A very similar accident, wherein a landslide accompaniedthe fall of the coal bank, occurred at Blue Rock, Ohio, in 1856.There, also, four entombed men were rescued after an imprisonment ofeight days. (F. R-W)]
Suddenly, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, the signal came from below tothe pit-head to cease hauling.
What had happened?
There could be but one explanation. The cars must have stopped.
There had been another fall in the mine, blocking off the gallery.
The rescuers were caught!
Like wild-fire the news spread through the mining village.
Great and excited as had been the crowd before, it was ten times moreexcited now. Women, whose husbands were in the rescue gang, shooktheir fists at Owens, clamoring that he had sent fifty men to death inorder to save three. The animosity spread to the miners who had lackedthe nerve to volunteer, and all sorts of wild rumors passed among thecrowd.
There might have been serious trouble, but the gates of the highfences around the pit-head enclosure had been closed, and the mineguards, armed with rifles, patrolled the place. Ever since the days ofthe "Molly Maguires,"--and many much more recent bloody outbreaksamong coal miners--colliery owners have maintained armed guards.
Happily there was no actual trouble, though the crowd was gettingugly, for, a little more than two hours later, there came the cheeringnews that a supporting gang of rescue workers had driven a new gallerythrough one of the pillars of coal, and that union with the old linewas effected.
Again a faint rumble!
Hopes dropped once more, but, after a brief inspection, the miningengineer reported that the fall had taken place in another part of themine and that there was no immediate danger.
At 8 o'clock that evening, voices could be faintly heard. An hourlater, using a megaphone, the rescuers made the survivors hear thathelp was near them.
"How many of you are there?"
Thinly, so thinly that the voice could scarcely be heard, came backthe answer:
"Three."
"All alive and well?"
"We are all alive. Jim Getwood and Anton Rover are unconscious. Thisis Clem Swinton talking."
"How is the air?"
"Getting bad, now."
"Keep your courage up! We'll have you out soon!"
The hewers set to work in high spirits, hoping that every blow of thepick would drive through.
Then:
"Stop work, men!" said the Bureau chief suddenly.
The men stared at him, amazed at the order. All stopped, however,except old Otto, who continued to use his pick-axe steadily.
The official grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him round with nonetoo gentle a hand.
"Stop, you thick-head, when you're told!"
"What for? We'll be through this wall in an hour!"
"You'll have a hole through it, maybe. But what good will that do?"
Otto stared at the official amazed, and the Bureau of Mines man wenton:
"You've had to start working in a respirator, after all, haven't you?Why? Because of white damp! Haven't you got sense enough to see whatwould happen as soon as you drove a hole through big enough to let thewhite damp in and not big enough to get the men out? How long do youthink they'd last in this air, in their weakened state?"
Otto looked at him a moment, and then nodded his head.
"You're right, boss," he admitted. "I'm a fool. I'd never ha' thoughto' that. But what are you goin' to do?"
"You don't seem to know enough to use your eyes," the officialanswered, shortly, "and they told me you were one of the best men inthe mine! What do you suppose we've been doing all this cementconstruction along this gallery for the last couple of shifts?"
"I hadn't stopped to think," admitted Otto, taken aback.
"Well, you'll have a chance to do some thinking, now."
In effect, it was not surprising that Otto should not be able to see away out of the difficulty, for the problem was a serious one.
The proportion of white damp, or carbon monoxide, in the air where therescuers had now been compelled to work in respirators, was strongenough to kill a man in ten or fifteen minutes. In the undoubtedlyweakened state of the three survivors, a lesser time than this wouldsuffice to be fatal.
If, in the course of digging away the obstruction which remainedbetween the rescuers and the entombed men, a small hole were made, orif the rocks should lie in such a manner that there wereinterstices between, Clem and his comrades would succumb before asufficiently large breach could be made in the wall whereby they mightbe dragged through to liberty.
WHERE THE TIMBER GOES.
Whole forests are cut down to hold up the mine galleries. On thestrength of this work the lives of the miners depend.
_Courtesy of the Wigham Coal Co._]
GEOPHONE EXPERT LISTENING FOR TAPPING OF SURVIVORS.
_Courtesy of U. S. Bureau of Mines._]
BUILDING THE WALL FOR THE "SAND-HOGS."
_Courtesy of U. S. Bureau of Mines._]
If, indeed, it were safe to blast, it might be possible to get rid ofthe obstruction by the use of a heavy blast and then rush through andgrab the men. But this was impossible. The Burrell tester showed alarge proportion of methane gas or fire damp, and a blast of any sizemight easily start an explosion which would not only wreck the mine,but also kill every member of the rescue parties, while affording nochance of getting the imprisoned men.
How could the wall be taken down, without allowing the gas topercolate through?
"Stand back, men," said the official, "here come the 'sand hogs,'now."
Amazed, the colliers retreated from the coal face to give place to avery different group of men. Small and wiry folk, these, dressed in anentirely different fashion from the miners. The respirators gave themthe same goggle-eyed goblin faces. Not one of them had ever been in acoal mine before.
With a speed and dexterity that showed their knowledge of the work,these men proceeded to build up, at the side of the gallery, close tothe point where the last obstruction still held, a solid face ofconcrete, and rapidly cemented it to the somewhat elaborateconstruction that had been in process of making all the preceding day,and to which Otto had paid no heed.
It was not long before it became evident that a completely closed roomwas being made. Other gangs came along, carrying strange screw-doorsof iron, and a multitude of devices new to the eyes of miners.Everything had been measured and prepared above-ground. It remainedonly to throw the material together, according to a prearranged plan.
By midnight, all was ready.
Three "sand hogs," with a gallant young doctor who had volunteered,prepared to enter.
A steady throbbing sound told that machinery connected with an outletpipe--solidly embedded in the cement--had been set in motion. Thenewly made walls threatened to bulge inwards, and the signal was givento stop.
Then a rushing noise was heard in the inlet pipe, similarly embedded.The outer of the double doors was opened and the four men stepped in,entering a tiny ante-chamber. They closed the outer door, which wasabsolutely air-tight, opened the inner one, and passed into thechamber built against the coal face, made of solid cement except for acircle of coal a yard in diameter.
A minute or two later, could be heard, faintly, the high screech ofsome rapid-cutting machine.
When Otto came back on his next shift, at 2 o'clock on Friday morning,the sand hogs were still working.
Curiosity overcame the old miner's desire not to seem ignorant.
"Just what is that, sir?" he asked the Bureau official, who was stillon watch.
"That you, Otto? So you want to know, now, do you? Well, that's a sortof lightly made caisson, or air-tight chamber, with an air-lock ordouble door. It's used a good deal for working under water, but forthe job we have here, it doesn't have to be very solidly built.
"It's simple enough, when you think it out. We just cemented it up,put in an air-pump to take out the gassy air that was in it, and thenturned in compressed air, with a pressure of a little more than oneatmosphere, just enough to keep any of the gas from entering the holethat is being dug through the coal pillar."
"Why can't gas get in? Gas'll go through coal."
"Because the pressure from inside is bigger than from outside. Thecompressed air is leaking through the coal and driving any gas away."
"Why didn't you let us get in there to finish the job, if that's allthere is to it?" protested Otto, indignant that strangers should havethe glory of the final rescue, after the miners had done so much.
"Because you couldn't stand it. Those men are sand hogs. They're usedto working in compressed air. Just as soon as a man gets into apressure of two or three atmospheres, unless he's mighty careful he'sapt to get dangerously ill. His blood absorbs too much air. While he'sunder compression, he doesn't feel it so much, but if he comes out ofthe compression too quickly, the surplus air in his blood can't comeout as slowly as it ought, and little bubbles form in the bloodcurrent. That's deadly. Sometimes these bubbles cause a terriblecaisson disease known as the 'bends,' when all the muscles and jointsare affected; or it may give a paralysis known as 'diver's palsy,'because divers working in compressed atmospheres suffer the same way;all too often, it causes sudden death. So you see, Otto, it's not achance a man ought to take who knows nothing about it."
"An' the sand hogs are diggin' in there?"
"No, they're not digging. We put in a tunnelling machine driven bycompressed air, which is sometimes used for making sewers and thelike. It will bore an even, round hole, just big enough for a man tocrawl through, comfortably.
"As soon as that hole is pierced through into the room where theimprisoned men are, the doctor will go in, taking food, wine andmedical supplies, and three respirators as well. Then, when thesurvivors are protected against the possible results of a suddeninrush of gas, it'll be up to you men to get the rest of the wall downas quick as you can."
"So that's how it is! We'll be ready, sir, as soon as you give theword."
At 6 o'clock, on the Friday morning, the outer door of the caissonclanged and the foreman of the sand hogs came out.
"We've pierced through," he said. "The doctor's in there. He says allthe men are alive, as yet, but he doesn't know if they'll recover.There's not much time to lose, judging by what he says."
"At the wall, men!" came the order.
The miners cheered. They were to have the glory of getting theircomrades out, after all.
The picks hammered on the rock like hail. The cars roared through thegalleries once more. The cages shot upward with their loads.
At 8 o'clock, a miner's pick went through the wall into the spaceleading to the room beyond, but there was still a lot of rock to movebefore a clear passage could be made.
Otto remembered the warning of the Mine Bureau official, and realizedthat, had he been left to himself, he would have killed his comradesat the very moment of rescue.
At 9 o'clock, the hole was big enough for one of the rescuers to pass.As before, a doctor was the first to scramble through the opening.
The excitement above ground was enormous. Each car might bring asurvivor!
Every time that the cage was a few seconds late, hope rose high.
"Keep silence, now," said the Mine Bureau's surgeon to the waitingcrowd. "No cheers or shouts remember! The nerves of the men are apt tobe at th
e breaking point."
The silence added to the tension. The atmosphere was electric withanxiety.
What was happening?
The cage was rising slowly, slowly!
Surely the men were there!
It reached the surface.
A limp form was borne out and laid on a waiting stretcher.
It was Anton, his face pinched, his lips blue.
In the next cage, Jim Getwood was brought up. On seeing his condition,the mine doctor shook his head dubiously. Artificial respiration wasbegun, then and there.
The cage rose for the third time, bearing Clem Swinton, unconsciouslike his comrades, but clearly in better case.
He stirred as he reached the open air, and his glance encountered thatof the mine owner.
"I said American mine pluck would get us," he gasped, "if we stuck outlong enough!"
And he relapsed into unconsciousness.
Boy With the U.S. Miners Page 4