"Here we are," he said. "We have been able to explore the whole pit except this part here"--he dug the point of his pencil into a distant corner--"and the reason is that the means of access to that particular level are blocked. Here is where the block begins." The pencil swiftly shaded in a section. "There is the intake, all blown to smithereens; that and the road to Number Three. But if there are men alive in the pit, Number Three is where we shall find them." "Do you believe that they are alive?" asked Juggernaut. "I do. It seems incredible that the whole roof should have come down. We must get the ventilating plant in order and dig them out; that's the only way. We should be able to start work immediately." "Right!" said Juggernaut, bracing himself at the blessed thought of action once more. "I'll call for volunteers." A minute later, appearing at a brilliantly lit window, he addressed the silent throng below him. To most of them this was the second speech that they had received from him in twelve hours. "We have been down the pit," he said. "There has been a biggish explosion, and Number Three is cut off by a heavy fall. The air below will be breathable in less than an hour, and we are going to set to work right away, and clear, and clear, and clear until we find out whether there is any one left alive there. Now,"--his voice rang out in sudden and irresistible appeal--"we want _men_, and plenty of them. Short shifts and high pressure! Those poor fellows have very little water, no food, and a doubtful air supply. I ask for volunteers. Who will come down? Step forward--now!" A gentle ripple passed over the sea of upturned faces. Then it died away. The distance between the speaker and his entire audience had diminished by one pace. "Thank you!" said Juggernaut simply. "I knew I had only to ask. Mr Walker, will you call the overmen together and get going as soon as possible?" A few hours earlier the men of Belton had failed in an enterprise for lack of a leader. Now they had found one. * * * * * Sir John Carr drove the first shovel into the mass which blocked the main road, and for the space of thirty minutes he set a standard of pace in the work of rescue which younger and more supple successors found it hard to maintain. Shift followed shift. Sunday morning dawned up above, and the sun swung into a cloudless April sky, but still the work below went on--grim, untiring, unprofitable work. Hope deferred succeeded to hope deferred.