The suggestion struck fire, and they agreed to set to work that same evening. It would be a relief to do something, to have something in their minds but despair. They passed the word to Mary Burke, to Rovetta, Klowoski, and others; and at eleven o’clock the next morning they met again, and the lists were put together, and it was found that no less than a hundred and seven men and boys were positively known to be inside Number One. SECTION 33. As it happened, however, discussion of this list and the method of giving it to the world was cut short by a more urgent matter. Jack David came in with news of fresh trouble at the pit-mouth. The new fan was being put in place; but they were slow about it, so slow that some people had become convinced that they did not mean to start the fan at all, but were keeping the mine sealed to prevent the fire from spreading. A group of such malcontents had presumed to go to Mr. Carmichael, the deputy state mine-inspector, to urge him to take some action; and the leader of these protestants, Huszar, the Austrian, who had been one of Hal’s check-weighman group, had been taken into custody and marched at double-quick to the gate of the stockade! Jack David declared furthermore that he knew a carpenter who was working in the fan-house, and who said that no haste whatever was being made. All the men at the fan-house shared that opinion; the mine was sealed, and would stay sealed until the company was sure the fire was out. “But,” argued Hal, “if they were to open it, the fire would spread; and wouldn’t that prevent rescue work?” “Not at all,” declared “Big Jack.” He explained that by reversing the fan they could draw the smoke up through the air-course, which would clear the main passages for a time. “But, you see, some coal might catch fire, and some timbers; there might be falls of rock so they couldn’t work some of the rooms again.” “How long will they keep the mine sealed?” cried Hal, in consternation. “Nobody can say. In a big mine like that, a fire might smoulder for a week.” “Everybody be dead!” cried Rosa Minetti, wringing her hands in a sudden access of grief. Hal turned to Olson. “Would they possibly do such a thing?” “It’s been done--more than once,” was the organiser’s reply. “Did you never hear about Cherry, Illinois?” asked David. “They did it there, and more than three hundred people lost their lives.” He went on to tell that dreadful story, known to every coal-miner. They had sealed the mine, while women fainted and men tore their clothes in frenzy--some going insane. They had kept it sealed for two weeks, and when they opened it, there were twenty-one men still alive! “They did the same thing in Diamondville, Wyoming,” added Olson. “They built up a barrier, and when they took it away they found a heap of dead men, who had crawled to it and torn their fingers to the bone trying to break through.”