Page 49 - sons-and-lovers

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 Is-
rael.
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. He had overworked himself into
a frenzy. Rising, wet with sweat, he threw his tool down,
pulled on his coat, blew out his candle, took his lamp, and
went. Down the main road the lights of the other men went
swinging. There was a hollow sound of many voices. It was
a long, heavy tramp underground.
He sat at the bottom of the pit, where the great drops
of water fell plash. Many colliers were waiting their turns

Sons and Lovers