And when he paused, nigh spent, to wipe the sweat From off his dripping brow: and Robert turned To fling some idle jibe at him, the spark Of anger, smouldering in him, flared and burned-- Though all his body quivered, wringing-wet-- Till that black hole To him blazed red, As if the very coal Had kindled underfoot and overhead: Then, gripping tight his pick, He rushed upon his brother: But Robert, turning quick, Leapt up, and now they faced each other.

They faced each other: Dick with arm upraised, In act to strike, and murder in his eyes.... When, suddenly, with noise of thunder, The earth shook round them, rumbling o'er and under; And Dick saw Robert, lying at his feet: As, close behind, the gallery crashed in: And almost at his heel, earth gaped asunder. By black disaster dazed, His wrath died; and he dropped the pick; And staggered, dizzily and terror-sick. But, when the dust and din Had settled to a stillness, dread as death: And he once more could draw his breath; He gave a little joyful shout To find the lamps had not gone out.

Fires - Book I — Part 17

And on his knees he fell Beside his brother, buried in black dust: And, full of tense misgiving, He lifted him, and thrust A knee beneath his head; and cleared The dust from mouth and nose: but could not tell Awhile if he were dead or living. Too fearful to know what he feared, He fumbled at the open shirt, And felt till he could feel the heart, Still beating with a feeble beat: And then he saw the closed lids part, And saw the nostrils quiver; And knew his brother lived, though sorely hurt.

Fires - Book I — Part 17

Again he staggered to his feet, And fetched his water-can, and wet The ashy lips, and bathed the brow, Until his brother sat up with a shiver, And gazed before him with a senseless stare And dull eyes strangely set. Too well Dick knew that now They must not linger there, Cut off from all their mates, to be o'ertaken In less than no time by the deadly damp, So, picking up his lamp, He made his brother rise; Then took him by the arm, And shook him, till he'd shaken An inkling of the danger and alarm Into those dull, still eyes: Then dragged him, and half-carried him, in haste, To reach the airway, where 'twould still be sweet When all the gallery was foul with gas: But, soon as they had reached it, they were faced By a big fall of roof they could not pass; And found themselves cut off from all retreat, On every hand, by that black shining wall; With naught to do but sit and wait Till rescue came, if rescue came at all, And did not come too late.

Fires - Book I — Part 17