He was soon at work again. The hope of escape put energy into his weak
muscles.
Once, a block as large as his two hands broke away and fell down on
the other side. That was a great help. But he had to stop and rest
again. Indeed, after that he had very frequently to stop and rest.
The space was widening steadily, but very, very slowly.
After a time he threw down the pick and passed his head through the
opening, but it was not yet large enough to receive his body.
The air that was now coming up the chamber was very bad, and it was
blue with smoke, besides.
The boy bent to his task with renewed energy; but every blow exhausted
him, and he had to wait before striking another. He was chipping the
coal away, though, piece by piece, inch by inch.
By and by, by a stroke of rare good-fortune, a blow that drew the pick
from the lad's weak hands and sent it rattling down upon the other
side, loosened a large block at the top of the opening, and it fell
with a crash.
Now he could get through, and it would be none too soon either. He
dropped his oil-can down on the other side, then his lamp, and then,
after a single moment's rest, he crawled into the aperture, and
tumbled heavily to the floor of the old mine.
It was not a great fall; he fell from a height of only a few feet, but
in his exhausted condition it stunned him, and he lay for some minutes
in a state of unconsciousness.
The air was better in here, he was below the line of the poisoned
current, and he soon revived, sat up, picked up his lamp, and looked
around him.
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