At the breast of the chamber he set down his lamp and can, climbed up
on to the shelf of coal, and began tearing out the slate and rubbish
from the little opening in the wall that Conway had that day shown to
him. If he could once get through into the old mine he knew that he
should find pure air and--life.
The opening was too small to admit his body, but that was nothing;
there were tools here, and he still had strength enough to work. He
dragged the drill up to the face but it was too heavy for him to
handle, and the stroke he was able to make with it was wholly without
effect. His work with the clumsy sledge was still less useful, and
before he had struck the third blow the instrument fell from his
nerveless hands.
He was exhausted by the effort and lay down on the bed of coal to
rest, gasping for breath.
He thought if only the air current would come from the other mine
into this what a blessing it would be; but, alas! the draft was the
other way. The poisoned air was being drawn swiftly into the old
mine, making a whistling noise as it crossed the sharp edges of
the aperture.
Ralph knew that very soon the strong current would bring in smoke and
fouler air, and he rose to make still another effort. He went down
and brought up the pick. It was worn and light and he could handle it
more easily. He began picking away at the edges of coal to enlarge the
opening. But the labor soon exhausted him, and he sat down with his
back against the aperture to intercept the passage of air while he
recovered his breath.
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