Ten holes drilled six feet into the rock and tamped with double charges of dynamite.

He straightened.
"All right, men! Ready ?" "Ready!" "Touch 'em off!" The carbide lamps were held close to the fuses for a second.

Soon they were all going, spitting like so many venomous, angry serpents--but neither Fairchild nor the miners had stopped to watch.

They were running as hard as possible for the shaft and for the protection that distance might give.

A wait that seemed ages.