柴科婷英美短篇小说10300120159 Close on noon he reached the township. Glamour seemed still to hover over it. He drove on to the mine. The winding-engine was turning, the pulley at the top of the head-gear whizzing round; nothing looked unusual. 'Some mistake! he thought. He drove to the mine buildings, alighted, and climbed to the shaft head. Instead of the usual rumbling of the trolleys, the rattle of coal discharged over the screens, there was silence. Close by, Pippin himself was standing, smirched with dirt. The cage, coming swift and silent from below, shot open its doors with a sharp rattle. Scorrier bent forward to look. There lay a dead man, with a smile on his face How many? "he whispered Pippin answered: Eighty-four brought up--forty-seven still below, and entered the man' s name in a pocket-boo An older man was taken out next; he too was smiling--there had been vouchsafed to him it seemed, a taste of more than earthly joy. The sight of those strange smiles affected Scorrier more than all the anguish or despair he had seen scored on the faces of other dead men. He asked an old miner how long Pippin had been at work. Thirty hours. Yesterday he wer below, we had to nigh carry mun up at last He's for goin'down again, but the chaps won' t lower mun; "the old man gave a sigh. "I'm waiting for my boy to come up, I am Scorrier waited too--there was fascination about those dead, smiling faces. The rescuing of these men who would never agan breathe went on and on Scorrier grew sleepy in the sun The old miner woke him, saying "Rummy stuff this here chokedamp; see, they all dies drunk "The very next to be brought up was the chief engineer. Scorrier had known him quite well, one of those Scotsmen who are bom at the age of forty and remain so all their lives. His face--the only one that wore no smile--seemed grieving that duty had deprived it of that last luxury. With wide eyes and drawn lips he had died protesting. Late in the aftemoon the old miner touched Scorriers arm, and said: There he is--there's my boy! And he departed slowly, wheeling the body on a trolley As the sun set, the gang below came up. No further search was possible till the fumes had cleared. Scomier heard one man say: " There's some we'll never get; they 've had sure柴科婷 英美短篇小说 10300120159 10 Close on noon he reached the township. Glamour seemed still to hover over it. He drove on to the mine. The winding-engine was turning, the pulley at the top of the head-gear whizzing round; nothing looked unusual. 'Some mistake!' he thought. He drove to the mine buildings, alighted, and climbed to the shaft head. Instead of the usual rumbling of the trolleys, the rattle of coal discharged over the screens, there was silence. Close by, Pippin himself was standing, smirched with dirt. The cage, coming swift and silent from below, shot open its doors with a sharp rattle. Scorrier bent forward to look. There lay a dead man, with a smile on his face. "How many?" he whispered. Pippin answered: "Eighty-four brought up--forty-seven still below," and entered the man's name in a pocket-book. An older man was taken out next; he too was smiling--there had been vouchsafed to him, it seemed, a taste of more than earthly joy. The sight of those strange smiles affected Scorrier more than all the anguish or despair he had seen scored on the faces of other dead men. He asked an old miner how long Pippin had been at work. "Thirty hours. Yesterday he wer' below; we had to nigh carry mun up at last. He's for goin' down again, but the chaps won't lower mun;" the old man gave a sigh. "I'm waiting for my boy to come up, I am." Scorrier waited too--there was fascination about those dead, smiling faces. The rescuing of these men who would never again breathe went on and on. Scorrier grew sleepy in the sun. The old miner woke him, saying: "Rummy stuff this here chokedamp; see, they all dies drunk!" The very next to be brought up was the chief engineer. Scorrier had known him quite well, one of those Scotsmen who are born at the age of forty and remain so all their lives. His face--the only one that wore no smile--seemed grieving that duty had deprived it of that last luxury. With wide eyes and drawn lips he had died protesting. Late in the afternoon the old miner touched Scorrier's arm, and said: "There he is--there's my boy!" And he departed slowly, wheeling the body on a trolley. As the sun set, the gang below came up. No further search was possible till the fumes had cleared. Scorrier heard one man say: "There's some we'll never get; they've had sure burial