He dared not look up again, but the ominous cracking went on and while he wondered what was happening, Driscoll ran past.

A big stone fell beside the man as he seized another prop and with a tense effort jambed it under the beam.
"I'll take some weight off her while you shore her up," Driscoll gasped.
He had brought a heavy mallet, but before he used this he dragged the foot of the timber round, bending his body forward while his arms got stiff and hard, as if carved from wood.

His sullen face was darkly flushed and the swollen veins stood out from his forehead.

Thirlwell saw him for a moment as he lifted his ax, and remembering the scene afterwards, thought the fellow had looked a model of savage strength.

It was obvious that he had no fear.
In the meantime, he was vaguely conscious that Driscoll had saved his life.