He was hewing at a piece of rock that was in the way for the next day's work.

As he sat on his heels, or kneeled, giving hard blows with his pick, "Uszza--uszza!" he went.
"Shall ter finish, Sorry ?" cried Barker, his fellow butty.
"Finish?
Niver while the world stands!" growled Morel.
And he went on striking.

He was tired.
"It's a heart-breaking job," said Barker.
But Morel was too exasperated, at the end of his tether, to answer.
Still he struck and hacked with all his might.
"Tha might as well leave it, Walter," said Barker.

"It'll do to-morrow, without thee hackin' thy guts out." "I'll lay no b---- finger on this to-morrow, Isr'el!" cried Morel.
"Oh, well, if tha wunna, somebody else'll ha'e to," said Israel.
Then Morel continued to strike.
"Hey-up there--LOOSE-A'!" cried the men, leaving the next stall.
Morel continued to strike.
"Tha'll happen catch me up," said Barker, departing.
When he had gone, Morel, left alone, felt savage.

He had not finished his job.