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Updated: May 2, 2025
Jim went below, crawled along the drive, lit his candle, and stuck it in the spiked iron socket and the spike in the wall of the drive, quite close to the hole, without noticing either the hole or the increased freshness in the air. He started picking away at the 'face' and scraping the clay back from under his feet, and didn't hear Kullers come to work.
'Anyway she's coming for us. Listen to her! They didn't have to listen hard. The language which came down the shaft they weren't sure which one and along the drives was enough to scare up the dead and make them take to the Bush. 'Why didn't you fools make off into the Bush and give us a chance, instead of giving her a lead here? asked Dave. Jim and Kullers began to wish they had done so.
On Monday afternoon, Kullers, whose shift it was below, stuck his pick through the face of his drive into the wall of Dave's, about four feet from the end of it: the clay flaked away, leaving a hole as big as a wash-hand basin. They knocked off for the day and decided to let the other party take the offensive. Tuesday morning Dave and Jim came to work, still feeling shaky.
'I suppose we must let him into it. 'Kullers' was a big American buck nigger, and had been Pinter's mate for some time Pinter was a man of odd mates; and what Pinter meant was that Kullers was safe to hold his tongue. Next morning Pinter and his coloured mate appeared on the ground early, Pinter with some tools and the nigger with a windlass-bole on his shoulders.
Jim and Kullers were below, getting out dirt for all they were worth, and Pinter and Dave at their windlasses, when who should march down from the cemetery gate but Mother Middleton herself. She was a hard woman to look at.
'She's took it off! said Dave excitedly; and peering along Pinter's drive, they saw first an elastic-sided boot, then a red-striped stocking, then a section of scarlet petticoat. 'Lemme out! roared Pinter, lurching forward and making a swimming motion with his hands in the direction of Dave's drive. Kullers was already gone, and Jim well on the way.
Pinter straightened himself, blinking like an owl, and looked carelessly over the graveyard. 'Tryin' for a secon' bottom, he reflected absently. 'Eh, Dave? Dave only stood and looked black. Pinter tilted back his head and scratched the roots of his chin-feathers, which stuck out all round like a dirty, ragged fan held horizontally. 'Kullers is safe, reflected Pinter. 'All right? snapped Dave.
After that Dave lost no time: he drove straight on, encouraged by the thuds of Pinter's and Kullers' picks drawing nearer. They would strike his tunnel at right angles. Both parties worked long hours, only knocking off to fry a bit of steak in the pan, boil the billy, and throw themselves dressed on their bunks to get a few hours' sleep.
Jim chuckled in a silly way, as if there was something funny, and Kullers guffawed in sympathy. 'What's up now? demanded Dave apprehensively. 'Mother Middleton, said Jim; 'she's blind mad drunk, and she's got a bottle in one hand and a new pitchfork in the other, that she's bringing out for some one. 'How the hell did she drop to it? exclaimed Pinter. 'Dunno, said Jim.
'I wonder which shaf' she'll come down, asked Kullers in a tone befitting the place and occasion. 'You'd better go and watch your shaft, Pinter, said Dave, 'and Jim and I'll watch mine. 'I I won't, said Pinter hurriedly. 'I'm I'm a modest man. Then they heard a clang in the direction of Pinter's shaft. 'She's thrown her bottle down, said Dave.
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