The crowd had surged up, trying to hear what the man was saying.
People were getting dangerously near to the mouth of the shaft. Women
whose husbands were below were wringing their hands and crying out
desperately that some one should go down to the rescue.

"Stand back, my friends," said Burnham, facing the people, "stand back
and give these men air, and leave us room to work. We shall do all in
our power to help those who are below. If they can be saved, we shall
save them. Trust us and give us opportunity to do it. Now, men, who
will go down? I feel that we shall get to them this time and bring
them out. Who volunteers?"

A dozen miners stepped forward from the crowd; sturdy, strong-limbed
men, with courage stamped on their dust-soiled faces, and heroic
resolution gleaming from their eyes.

"Good! we want but eight. Take the aprons of the women; give us the
safety-lamps, the oil, the brandy; there, ready; slack off!"

Burnham had stepped on to the carriage with the men who were going
down. One of them cried out to him:--

"Don't ye go, sir! don't ye go! it'll be worth the life o' ye!"

"I'll not ask men to go where I dare not go myself," he said; "slack
off!"

For an instant the carriage trembled in the slight rise that preceded
its descent, and in that instant a boy, a young slender boy, pushed