It will be a fitting close to this chapter, and will be an act of justice to the memory of a brave and heroic boy, to relate the story of Martin Crahan’s sacrifice at the time of the disaster at the West Pittston shaft. Martin was a driver boy, of humble parentage, poor and unlearned. He was in the mine when the fire in the breaker broke out, and he ran, with others, to the foot of the shaft. But just as he was about to step on the carriage that would have taken him in safety to the surface he bethought him of the men on the other side of the shaft, who might not have heard of the fire, and his brave heart prompted him to go to them with the alarm. He asked another boy to go with him, but that boy refused. He did not stop to parley; he started at once alone. But while he ran through the dark passage on his errand of mercy, the carriage went speeding, for the last time, up the burning shaft. He gave the alarm and returned, in breathless haste, with those whom he had sought; but it was too late, the cage had already fallen. When the party was driven away from the foot of the shaft by the smoke and the gas, he, in some unexplained way, became separated from the rest, and wandered off alone. The next day a rescuing party found him in the mine-stable, dead. He lay there beside the body of his mule. Deprived of the presence of human beings in the hours of that dreadful night, he had sought the company of the beast that had long been his companion in daily labor――and they died together. But he had thought of those who were dear to him, for on a rough board near by he had written with chalk the name of his father and of his mother, and of a little cousin who had been named for him. He was only twelve years old when he died, but the title of hero was never more fairly earned than it was by him. CHAPTER XVI. MINERS AND THEIR WAGES.