employ him, because he thought he knew it all, and would not heed the
wise regulations which the company laid down for his safety!

In Number Two mine there were some places being operated by the "room
and pillar" method; the coal being taken out as from a series of rooms,
the portion corresponding to the walls of the rooms being left to uphold
the roof. These walls are the "pillars"; and when the end of the vein is
reached, the miner begins to work backwards, "pulling the pillars," and
letting the roof collapse behind him. This is a dangerous task; as he
works, the man has to listen to the drumming sounds of the rock above
his head, and has to judge just when to make his escape. Sometimes he is
too anxious to save a tool; or sometimes the collapse comes without
warning. In that case the victim is seldom dug out; for it must be
admitted that a man buried under a mountain is as well buried as a
company could be expected to arrange it.

In Number Two mine a man was caught in this way. He stumbled as he ran,
and the lower half of his body was pinned fast; the doctor had to come
and pump opiates into him, while the rescue crew was digging him loose.
The first Hal knew of the accident was when he saw the body stretched
out on a plank, with a couple of old sacks to cover it. He noticed that
nobody stopped for a second glance. Going up from work, he asked his
friend Madvik, the mule driver, who answered, "Lit'uanian feller--got
mash." And that was all. Nobody knew him, and nobody cared about him.

It happened that Mike Sikoria had been working nearby, and was one of
those who helped to get the victim out. Mike's negro "buddy" had been in
too great haste to get some of the rock out of the way, and had got his
hand crushed, and would not be able to work for a month or so. Mike told
Hal about it, in his broken English. It was a terrible thing to see a