ways and brooding temper.

He had almost made up his mind to go below again, on some excuse, when
his mate shouted from the top of the shaft:

"Tom! Tom! For Christ's sake come here!"

Tom's heart gave a great thump, and he ran like a kangaroo to the
shaft. All the diggers within hearing were soon on the spot. They
saw at a glance what had happened. It was madness to sink without
timber in such treacherous ground. _The sides of the shaft were
closing in_. Tom sprang forward and shouted through the crevice:

"To the face, Jack! To the face, for your life!"

"The old Workings!" he cried, turning to the diggers. "Bring a fan
and tools. We'll dig him out."

A few minutes later a fan was rigged over a deserted shaft close by,
where fortunately the windlass had been left for bailing purposes, and
men were down in the old drive. Tom knew that he and his mates had
driven very close to the old workings.

He knelt in the damp clay before the face and worked like a madman; he
refused to take turn about, and only dropped the pick to seize a
shovel in his strong hands, and snatch back the loose clay from under
his feet; he reckoned that he had six or, perhaps, eight feet to
drive, and he knew that the air could not last long in the new
drive--even if that had not already fallen in and crushed his brother.
Great drops of perspiration stood out on Tom's forehead, and his