"You don't know if it's safe." Driscoll glanced round for a moment.

His hat had fallen off and the miner's lamp flared and smoked in the water at his feet.

His hair was wet with the drops from the roof, and a thin streak of blood ran down his face from a cut a falling stone had made.

But his heavy eyes had a fixed, obstinate look.
"You hired me to mind the timbers; it's my job." Scott acquiesced with a gesture and he and Thirlwell watched.

There was a risk that in wedging the extra prop the man might loosen the first; and then, if neither was able to bear the load, the rock above would fall and bury him.