He gripped himself slowly and sternly, his jaws set, his tingling
nerves mastered by the resolute dominance of an aroused will.
Compelling himself to the act, he bent down, feeling along the ground
for the foreman's hat having the extinguished lamp fixed on it. He was
a long time discovering his object, yet the continued effort brought
back a large measure of self-control, and gave birth to a certain
clearness of perception. He held the recovered lamp in his hands,
leaning against the side of the tunnel, listening. The very intensity
of silence seemed to press against him from every direction as though
it had weight. He was still breathing heavily, but his strained ears
could not distinguish the slightest sound where he knew Burke lay
shrouded In the darkness. Nothing reached him to break the dread,
horrible silence, excepting that far-off, lonely trickle of dripping
water. He hesitated, match in hand, shrinking childishly from the
coming revealment of his victim. Yet why should he? Fierce as the
struggle had proved, on his part the fight had been entirely one of
defence. He had been attacked, and had fought back only in
self-preservation. Winston harbored no animosity; the fierceness of
actual combat past, he dreaded now beyond expression the thought that
through his savagery a human life might have been sacrificed. The tiny
flame of the ignited match played across his white face, caught the
wick of the lamp, and flared up in faint radiance through the gloom.
Burke, huddled into the rock shadow, never stirred, and the anxious
engineer bent over his motionless form in a horrid agony of fear. The
man rested partially upon one side, his hands still gripped as in
struggle, an ugly wound, made by a jagged edge of rock, showing plainly
in the side of his head. Blood had flowed freely, crimsoning the stone
beneath, but was already congealing amid the thick mass of hair,
serving somewhat to conceal the nature of the injury.
Winston, his head lowered upon the other's breast, felt confident he
detected breath, even a slight, spasmodic twitching of muscles, and
hastily arose to his feet, his mind already aflame with expedients.
The foreman yet lived; perhaps would not prove even seriously injured,
if assistance only reached him promptly. Yet what could he do? What
ought he to attempt doing? In his present physical condition Winston
realized the utter impossibility of transporting that burly body;
water, indeed, might serve to revive him, yet that faint trickle of
falling drops probably came from some distant fault in the rock which
would require much patient search to locate. The engineer had assumed
grave chances in this venture underground; in this moment of victory he
felt little inclination to surrender his information, or to sacrifice
himself in any quixotic devotion to his assailant. Yet he must give
the fellow a fair chance. There seemed only one course practicable,
the despatching to the helpless man's assistance of some among that
gang of workmen down in Number One. But could this be accomplished
without danger of his own discovery? Without any immediate revealment
of his part in the tragedy? First of all, he must make sure regarding
his own safety; he must reach the surface before the truth became known.