Summat's amiss; there's his lad here." Then he turned round to Paul.
"He'll be up in a few minutes," he said.
Paul wandered out to the pit-top.

He watched the chair come up, with its wagon of coal.

The great iron cage sank back on its rest, a full carfle was hauled off, an empty tram run on to the chair, a bell ting'ed somewhere, the chair heaved, then dropped like a stone.
Paul did not realise William was dead; it was impossible, with such a bustle going on.

The puller-off swung the small truck on to the turn-table, another man ran with it along the bank down the curving lines.
"And William is dead, and my mother's in London, and what will she be doing ?" the boy asked himself, as if it were a conundrum.
He watched chair after chair come up, and still no father.

At last, standing beside a wagon, a man's form! the chair sank on its rests, Morel stepped off.