Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1872-04-11

shouting to those behind me, till all al
once I tripped and fell over some one
and as soon as I could get myself to.
gether, / lowered the lamp | carried
and, to my great delight, found it was
Andrews.
Whether dead or alive I could not tell
then but we lifted him among US, and
none too soon, for as | took my first
step back, l reeled, from a curious,
| giddY feeling which came over me.
Run, If you can !" said family; fol
my legs seemed to be sinking under me.
| managed to keep on, though, and al
our next turn we were in purer air but
we knew it was a race for life, for the
| heavy gas was rolling after us, ready to
! quench out our lives if we slackened
! speed for an instant. We pressed on,
| though, till we reached the cage, rolled
into it, and were drawn up to be receiv-
ed with burst of cheers-Mary throw
! ing her arms around her fathers neck
and sobbing bitterly,
81 am not much hurt, i" Ae said feebly,
the fresh air reyiying him, as he was
laid gently down. ''God bless those
brave lads who brought me up! But
there's another man dOwn-JOhn Kel-
sey."
No one spoke, no one moved. for all
knew of the peril we had just escaped.
My lads" he said feebly, ''can't you
do nothing to save your mate ?" and as
I | looked wildly from one to another,
felt my heart ip my mouth.
"Do you all hear said 6 loud voice !;
and started as | saw Mary Andrews
raise from where she had knelt, holding
her fathers hand; "do you all hear ?
John Kelsey is left in the pit. Are you
not men enough to go"
MEN can't go" said one of the day
shift, grutf1y; mo one could live there. >
"YOu have not tried ~ again she cried
passionateiy, ''Richard Oldshaw," she
said, turning tom with rc,l slqW upon
her face, John Kelsey Is down there
dying, and asking for help. VIII yon
not go ?"
And you wish me to go, them" l
said bitterly.
your fellow-creatnrc lie there and die,
when God has given you the power aud
strength and knowledge to save him p
The next minute stepped up toward
the pits mouth, where there was a dead
silence. for no one would volunteer, and
in half clustering way said:
"I'll go down -
There was a regular cheer rose up as
| said these words but | hardly noticed
it, for | was looking intently at Mary,
and nv heart sank as | saw her stand
ing there smiling with JOY.
The next minute | had stepped into
the cage, AID ] began to move, a voice
called out.
Allow it all; Dick Oldshaw shant
20 alone l.
And young pitman sprang in by my
side
Then we began to descend, and
through An opening just caught sight
of Mary Andrews falling back senseless
in the gyms of the women Then all
was dark. and was ncrving myself for
what | had to do.
To go the way by which had helped
to save Andrews was, | knew, impos-
sibIc: but | had hopes that by going
round by one of the old workings SO
might reach him, and told my com
panion what thought.
Turning short off as soon a. Wr were
at the bottom, led the way, holding
my lamp high and climbing and stumbl-
ing over the broken shalc that had fallen
from the roof, for this part of the mine
had not been worked for Yeas, BY
pressing ON, | found that We were right,
and gradually nearing the point At which
the accident occurred.
As we got nearer [ became aWara of
the air setting in a strong draught in the
direction in which we were going and
soon after we could make Out 4 dull
glow. and then there was deep roar
The pit was indeed on fire, and blazing
furiOnsly, so that, as VIC got u"ar'r
trembling m not ashamed to n"n it.,
for it was most awful sight there Wa
the coal growing of fierce red heat /;
but fortunately the draught set toward
an old shaft fully quarter of a mile
further on, and so we were able to ap-
proach TILL with a cry of horror | leap
! ed over heap after heap of coal torn
from the roof and wall by the explosion,
to where close by the fire, lay the body
of John Kelsey-so close that his clothes
were already smouldering; and the fire
scOrched my face as laid hold Of him
and dragged him away.
How we ever got him to the foot Of
the shaft | never could tell.
| have some faint recollection of
. uGdI ll2 d NIttit anu u NiIIS bIA' NtIlti
light Of the chill December day; but the
only thing that made any impression
upon me was a voice that seemed to be
Mary's, and a touch that seemed to be
that of her hand.
And it's not much more that l can re
collect, only being in a wild, feverish
state, wanderin through dark passages,
with fire burning my head and coal fall
ing always ready to crush me; and then
| Seemed to wake from a deep sleep,
and to lie thinking, in weak, troubled
way, about getting up.
It was a month, though, before |
could do that, and then there was a ten
der arm to help me, and soft cheek
ever ready to be laid to mine; for in
those long, weary hours of sickness
Mary had been at my side to cheer me
back to health, and | had learned that l
was loved.