The thought never once occurred to him of thus doing injury to a perfectly innocent man.
He looked once more anxiously at the limp figure of the prostrate Burke, and then, holding the lamp out before him, moved cautiously down the passage toward the main tunnel.

Partially concealing himself amid the denser shadows behind the displaced falsework, he was enabled to look safely down the opening of Number One, and could perceive numerous dark figures moving about under flickering rays of light, while his ears distinguished a sound of voices between the strokes of the picks.
He crept still closer, shadowing his lamp between his hands, and crouching uneasily in the shadows.

The group of men nearest him were undoubtedly Swedes, as they were conversing in that language, working with much deliberation in the absence of the boss.

Winston rose up, his shadow becoming plainly visible on the rock wall, one hand held before his mouth to better muffle the sound of his voice.

The hollow echoing along those underground caverns tended to make all noise unrecognizable.
"Yust two of you fellars bettar come by me, an' gif a leeft," he ventured, doubtfully.
Those nearer faces down the tunnel were turned toward the voice in sudden, bewildered surprise, the lights flickering as the heads uplifted.
"Vas it you, Nels Swanson ?" "Yas, I tank so; I yust want Peterson an' Ole.