One or two of the older and more experienced spoke up. Under an hour it would be impossible to make the attempt--it might even be a longer time, but in an hour they might at least make their first effort. If such was the case, the parson said, the intervening period must be turned to the best account. In that time much could be thought of and done which would assist themselves and benefit the sufferers. He called upon the strongest and most experienced, and almost without their recognizing the prominence of his position, led them on in the work. He even rallied the weeping women and gave them something to do. One was sent for this necessary article and another for that. A couple of boys were dispatched to the next village for extra medical assistance, so that there need be no lack of attention when it was required. He took off his broadcloth and worked with the rest of them until all the necessary preparations were made, and it was considered possible to descend into the mine. When all was ready, he went to the mouth of the shaft and took his place quietly. It was a hazardous task they had before them. Death would stare them in the face all through its performance. There was choking after-damp below,--noxious vapors, to breathe which was to die; there was the chance of crushing masses falling from the shaken galleries--and yet these men left their companions one by one, and ranged themselves without saying a word at the curate's side. "My friends," said Grace, baring his head and raising a feminine hand,--"My friends, we will say a short prayer." It was only a few words. Then the curate spoke again. "Ready!" he said. But just at that moment there stepped out from the anguished crowd a girl, whose face was set and deathly, though there was no touch of fear upon it. "I ax yo'," she said, "to let me go wi' yo' and do what I con. Lasses, some on yo' speak a word for Joan Lowrie!" There was a breathless start. The women even stopped their outcry to look at her as she stood apart from them,--a desperate appeal in the very quiet of her gesture as she turned to look about her for some one to speak. "Lasses," she said again, "some on yo' speak a word for Joan Lowrie!" There rose a murmur among them then, and the next instant this murmur was a cry. "Ay," they answered, "we con aw speak fur yo'. Let her go, lads! She's worth two o' th' best on yo'. Nowt fears her. Ay, she mun go, if she will, mun Joan Lowrie! Go, Joan lass, and we'n not forget thee!" But the men demurred. The finer instinct of some of them shrank from giving a woman a place in such a perilous undertaking--the coarser element in others rebelled against it. "We'n ha' no wenches," these said, surlily. Grace stepped forward. He went to Joan Lowrie and touched her gently on the shoulder. "We cannot think of it," he said. "It is very brave and generous, and--God bless you!--but it cannot be. I could not think of allowing it myself, if the rest would."