It came from a bystander lying flat on his belly inside the mouth: he had crawled in as far as he could.
"Here they come!" New footfalls grew distinct, whether one or more the listeners could not make out.

Under the shouts of the red-shirted foreman to give them air, the throng fell back.
Out of the grimy smoke two figures slowly loomed up; one carried the other on his back; whether shanty men or not, no one could tell.
The crowd, no longer controlled by the foreman, surged about the opening.

Ready hands were held out, but the man carrying his comrade waved them aside and staggered on, one hand steadying his load, the other hanging loose.

The big foreman started to rush in, but stopped.
Something in the burdened man's eye had checked him, it was as if a team were straining up a steep hill, making any halt fatal.
"It's the boss and the clerk!" shouted the foreman.

"Fall back, men,--fall back, damn ye!" The man came straight on, reached the lips of the opening, lunged heavily to the right, tried to steady his burden and fell headlong..