lives."

For answer Uncle Jack turned his great manly face towards us and waved
his hand.

Then they disappeared in the gloom, and a curious murmur ran along the
great crowd. It was neither sigh, groan, nor cry, but a low hushed
murmur of all these; and once more, as a dead silence fell, we heard
that piteous cry, followed by a hoarse cheer, as if the sufferer had
seen help come.

Then, as we listened in dead silence, the rattling of brickwork came
again, mingled with the fluttering of the flames and the crackle and
roar of burning as the fire leaped up higher and higher from what had
been one of the furnace-holes, and across which a number of rafters and
beams had fallen, and were blazing brightly, to light up the horrible
scene of ruin.

Battle and crash of bricks and beams, and we all knew that my uncles
must be working like giants.

"I daren't go, Mester Jacob," whispered Gentles. "I'd do owt for the
brave lads, but it's death to go. It's death, and I daren't."

All at once, as everyone was listening for the fall of the tottering
wall, some one caught sight of the moving figures, and a deafening cheer
rose up as Uncle Dick appeared carrying the legs and Uncles Jack and Bob
the arms of a man.

They came towards where I was standing, so that I was by when poor
Pannell was laid down, and I went on one knee by his side.

"Much hurt?" I panted.

"Nay, more scared than hurt, lad," he said. "I was buried up to my
neck, and feeling's gone out of my legs."

"Stop now, gentlemen, for heaven's sake!" cried the manager.

"What! And leave a poor fellow we have promised to come back and help!"
cried Uncle Dick with a laugh.

"But it is certain death to go in, gentlemen," cried the manager
passionately. "At the least vibration the roof will fall. I should
feel answerable for your lives. I tell you it is death to go."

"It is moral death to stay away," cried Uncle Dick. "What would you do,
Cob?"

"Go!" I cried proudly, and then I started up panting, almost sobbing,
to try and stop them. "No, no," I cried; "the danger is too great."

I saw them wave their hands in answer to the cheer that rose, and I saw
Pannell wave his with a hoarse "Hooroar!" and then the gloom had
swallowed them up again.

"I lay close to the poor lad," whispered Pannell. "Reg'lar buried
alive. Asked me to kill him out of his misery, he did, as I lay there;
but I said, `howd on, my lad. Them three mesters 'll fetch us out,' a