THE KING PHILIP MINE
I think it is safe to say that Dick and I were at that moment the two
most astonished boys in the State of Colorado.
Where had the man sprung from? And how had he disappeared again? There
must be, of course, some opening in the rock which we had failed to
notice; a circumstance easily explained by the fact that we had not gone
far enough up the basin, and by the added fact that our attention had
been fixed upon the opposite wall.
Then, again, though the identity of the man could hardly be doubted, why
should he take offence, as he seemed to do, at being addressed as "The
Badger"?
This was a question to which we could not find an answer; and, indeed,
for the moment we postponed any attempt to do so, for our attention was
too much taken up by the action of the water, which, continuing to rise
with great rapidity, forced us to retreat higher and higher up the dam.
For about half an hour it thus continued to rise, until there must have
been at least fifteen feet of it in the basin, by the end of which time
we noticed a sudden diminution in the amount coming over the fall. A few
minutes later the flow had ceased altogether, when the water in the pool
at once began to subside again, though far less rapidly than it had
risen.
Our first impulse after our narrow escape from drowning had been to run
to the other end of the dam and get back forthwith to our horses, but
this we had found to be rather too risky an undertaking to attempt, for
the water, coming out from under the dam, was rushing down the bed of
the cañon, seething and foaming between the obstructing boulders in such
a fashion that we decided that discretion would be a good deal the
better part of valor--that it would be an act of wisdom to wait a bit.
Moreover, when the flood, leaping from the cliff, had bowled us over in
such unceremonious style, we had had our rifles in our hands, and as
those indispensable weapons were at that moment lying under fifteen feet
of water, there was nothing for it but to wait till the pool drained off
if we wished to recover them.
As there was no telling how long we might have to wait, and as we were
both wet through and very cold--Dick being besides still shaky from his
recent buffeting--I collected a lot of dead wood and started a roaring
fire, before whose cheerful blaze our clothes soon dried out and our
spirits rose again to their normal level.
It was then that I first fully appreciated the value of my partner's
habit of carrying matches in a water-tight box--a habit I strongly
recommend to anybody camping out in these mountains.
For three hours we waited, by which time as we guessed there remained
not more than a foot of water in the pool. I had gone down to measure it
with a stick, and was leaning with my hand against the smooth, wet wall
on my right, when I heard sounds as of a human voice speaking very
faintly and indistinctly. The sounds seemed to come from the rock where
my hand rested, and putting my ear against it, I plainly heard a strange
voice say, "Hallo, boys!"
"Hallo!" I called out, at the top of my voice, startled into an
explosive shout. "Who are you? Where are you?"
"Who's that you're talking to?" cried Dick, springing to his feet and
looking all about.
"I don't know," I replied. "Come here and put your ear to the rock."
Dick instantly joined me, when we both very clearly heard the voice say:
"You needn't shout. I can hear you. Do you hear me?"
"Yes," said I; and repeating my question, I asked: "Who are you, and
where are you?"
"Before I tell you that," replied the voice, "I want to ask _you_ a
question, if you please. Are you Americans?"
"Yes," I replied. "Two American boys."
"Thank you. One more question, please: Did old Galvez send you up here?"
"No!" I replied, with considerable emphasis. "We never saw old Galvez
till yesterday."
"Good! Then I'll come down if you'll wait a minute."
It was less than a minute that we had to wait, when from behind a slight
bulge in the left-hand wall, up near the head of the basin, there
appeared the figure of a young fellow, seemingly about twenty years old,
who, with his trousers tucked up, carrying a rifle in one hand and his
boots in the other, came wading down to us.
With what interest we watched his approach will be imagined. Neither of
us doubted that it was the young fellow whom Galvez had mentioned as
having visited Hermanos during his absence, and as soon as he had come
near enough for us to distinguish his features, I, for one, was sure of
it, for, with his hook nose and his gray eyes, he did indeed bear a
curious resemblance to my partner.
Standing on the bank at the edge of the water, we waited for him to come
near, when, having advanced to within six feet of us he stopped and eyed
us critically. He was a good-looking young fellow, not very big, but
with a bright, intelligent face which at once took our fancy. Apparently
his judgment of our looks was also favorable, for, smiling pleasantly,
he said:
"Good-evening, boys. Which of you is Dick?"
"I am," replied the owner of that name.
"I just wanted to congratulate you, that's all, on your escape just now.
It might have gone hard with you if it hadn't been for my good friend,
Sanchez."
"Sanchez?" I repeated, inquiringly. "Is that The Badger's proper name?"
"Yes," replied the stranger. "Pedro Sanchez. The name of El Tejon was
bestowed upon him by old Galvez, and consequently he objects to it.
Your use of that name just now made him suspicious that you might be
emissaries of the padron, and it was that which caused him to jump back
into the water so suddenly."
"I see. I'll take care in future. Here! Give me your hand"--seeing that
he was about to come up the bank.
"Thank you," replied the stranger, reaching out his hand to me and
giving mine a shake before he let go--a greeting he repeated with Dick.
"I'm very glad to find you are a couple of American boys and not a pair
of Mexican cut-throats, as we rather suspected you might be. Let us go
up to your fire there and sit down. The water will take another
half-hour yet to drain off completely."
Accordingly, we walked up to the fire, where the stranger dried his feet
and pulled on his boots again.
"Why did you suspect us of being Mexican cut-throats?" asked Dick. "Did
you think that old Galvez had sent us up here on a hunt for you or for
El--for Sanchez, I mean?"
"Yes, that was it. We've been watching you for two days past. We saw you
go down to Hermanos yesterday and start up the trail this morning. From
the fact of your having gone down to the village, Pedro was inclined to
believe you were hunting him or me; but, for my part, I rather inferred
from your actions that you were hunting the old copper mine."
"The old copper mine!" we both cried.
"Yes. Did I make a mistake? Weren't you?"
"No, you didn't make any mistake," replied Dick. "What surprised us was
that you should know anything about it."
The young fellow laughed. "Do you suppose, then," said he, "that you are
the only ones to notice the pots and pans down there at Hermanos?"
"No, of course not," replied Dick. "The professor was right, you see,
Frank," he continued, turning to me, "when he said that the first white
man who came along would notice those copper utensils and go hunting for
the mine."
"Yes," said I; and addressing the stranger again, I added: "So it was
the copper mine you were seeking after all, was it? Old Galvez thought
you came up here looking for Sanchez."
Thereupon I related to him what the padron had said on the subject, when
the young fellow, smiling rather grimly, remarked, with a touch of
sarcasm in his voice:
"Nice old gentleman, the Señor Galvez. So he professed not to know my
name, did he? He's a bad lot, if ever there was one. He was right,
though, in supposing that I came up here to look for Pedro. That was my
main object, though I intended at the same time to keep an eye open for
the old mine."
"And have you seen any indication of it?--if we may ask."
"Oh, yes," he replied, with unaccountable indifference. "There was no
trouble about that. Pedro discovered it years ago and he took me
straight to it."
At this unlooked-for blow to all our hopes and plans, Dick and I gazed
at each other aghast. At one stroke apparently, our expedition was
deprived of its object. We might just as well turn round and go home
again, as far as the King Philip mine was concerned. Our hopes had been
so high; and here they were all toppled over in an instant. Intense was
our disappointment.
For half a minute we sat there speechless, when our new acquaintance,
observing our crestfallen looks, remarked:
"I'm afraid that is a good deal of a disappointment to you, isn't it?
But, perhaps you will be less disappointed when I tell you that the old
mine is valueless to me or you or anybody else."
"How's that?" exclaimed Dick.
"Why, it's---- But come and see for yourselves," he cried, springing to
his feet. "That's the best way. You'll understand the why and the
wherefore in five minutes."
"What! Is it near here, then?" asked my partner.
"Yes, close by. Behind the bulge in the wall on the left here."
"On _that_ side!" cried Dick. "Not on the right, then, after all? Well,
that is a puzzler!"
"Why is it a puzzler?" asked the stranger. "I don't understand you."
"Why, if the mine is on the _left_ of the creek, what was that bridge
for up above here, crossing over to the _right_?"
"Bridge! What bridge? What do you mean?"
Upon this we told him of the niches in the rock up above, which we
supposed to have been receptacles for bridge-stringers.
"That's queer," remarked our friend. "I had not heard of those before.
I wonder if Pedro knows anything about it. It is a puzzler, as you say."
"Yes, I can't make it out," continued Dick; and after standing for a
minute thinking, he repeated, with a shake of his head: "No, I can't
make it out. I can't see what that bridge was for. Well, never mind that
for the present; let's go and see the old mine."
"Come on, then. But before we go, I'll just speak to Pedro, or he may be
going off and hiding himself somewhere up in the old workings. Do you
notice," he asked, "how smoothly the swirl of the water has scoured out
a sort of half-arch at the base of the cañon-wall all the way from the
end of the dam here, under the waterfall, round to the bulge on the
other side? It forms a perfect 'whispering gallery.' Hallo, Pedro!" he
called out, putting his face close to the rock. "It is all right. We are
coming up now."
Descending to the bed of the pool, whence all the water except three or
four permanent puddles had now drained away, we first searched for our
rifles, and having recovered them, followed our guide around the bulge
in the wall, and there found ourselves confronting the old
mine-entrance.
About ten feet above the floor of the pool was a big hole in the rock,
evidently made by hand--for it was square--leading up to which were
several roughly-hewn steps, more or less rounded off and worn away by
the water. On top of the steps, framed in the blackness of the opening
behind him, stood the squat figure of Pedro Sanchez--in his rough shirt
of deer-skin representing very well, I thought, the badger in the mouth
of his hole.
[Illustration: "BEHIND HIM, STOOD THE SQUAT FIGURE OF PEDRO SANCHEZ."]
"Pedro," said our new friend, "these gentlemen were seeking the old
mine, as I thought. You have nothing to fear from them."
"On the contrary," cried Dick, bounding up the steps and holding out his
hand, "we have to thank you for your good service just now!"
Stretching out his long arm, the little giant smiled genially, showing a
row of big white teeth.
"It is nothing," said he; adding, with a twinkle in his eye: "The
señores will remember that I owed to them some return for their
assistance against the wolves."
"That's a fact!" cried Dick. "I'd forgotten that. So you remember us, do
you? I wonder at that--you didn't stay long to look at us."
"No, señor," replied Pedro, laughing. "I was out of my own country and
was distrustful of strangers."
Turning to our new friend, who was wondering what all this was about,
Dick explained the circumstances of our former meeting with Pedro,
adding:
"So, you see, we are old acquaintances after all. In fact, if we had not
met Pedro before we should not be here now, for it was his copper-headed
arrow which brought us down, oddly enough."
"That was odd, certainly. Well, Pedro, get the torch and show your old
friends over the mine. We must be quick, or it will be getting dark
before we can get back to our camp."
Pedro disappeared into the darkness somewhere, while we ourselves
climbed up into the mouth of the tunnel. It was very wet in there: we
could hear the _drip_, _drip_ of water in all directions.
"Were you in here when the flood came down?" asked Dick. "How is it you
weren't drowned--for I see the water stood five feet deep in the
tunnel?"
"Oh," replied the other, "there was no fear of drowning. There are
plenty of places in here out of reach of the water. Wait a moment and
you'll see."
True enough, we soon heard the striking of a match, and next we saw the
Mexican standing with a torch in his hand in a recess about ten feet
above us.
"That is where we took refuge," said our friend. "Far out of reach of
the water, you see. Come on, now, and I'll show you how this old mine
was worked, and why it was abandoned."
Leading the way, torch in hand, he presently stopped, and said:
"The place where we came in was the mouth of the main working-tunnel. It
follows the vein into the rock for about a thousand feet, which would
bring it, as I calculate, pretty near to the other cañon--for the rock
between the two cañons is nothing more than a spit, as you will
remember. Above the tunnel they have followed the vein upward, gouging
out all the native copper and wastefully throwing away all the less
valuable ore, until there was none left. If you look, you can see the
empty crevice extending upward out of sight."
"I see," said Dick, shading his eyes from the glare of the torch. "It
seems to have been pretty primitive mining."
"It was--that part of it, at least. But having exhausted all the copper
above, they next began the more difficult process of mining downward.
Come along this way and I'll show you."
Walking along the tunnel some distance, our guide pointed out to us a
square pool in the floor, measuring about eight feet each way.
"This," said he, "was a shaft. There is another further along. How deep
they are, I don't know."
"But, look here!" cried Dick. "How could they venture to sink shafts,
when at any moment a flood might rush in and drown them all?"
"Ah! That's just the point," said our friend. "Come outside again and
you'll understand."
Returning once more to the bed of the pool, we faced the hole in the
wall, when our guide continued:
"Now, you see, the floor of the tunnel is about ten feet above the
creek-bed, and before the cliff fell down, forming the dam, the water
ran freely past its mouth. But some time after the miners had got out
all the copper overhead and had begun sinking shafts, this cliff came
down, blocked the channel, and caused the water to back up into the
workings. As you remarked just now, it filled the tunnel five feet deep,
and, as a matter of course, filled the shafts up to the top."
"I see," said Dick. "You think, then, that the cliff fell in
comparatively recent times. I believe you are right, too. That would
account for there being no trees of any great size upon the dam."
"Yes. And as a consequence the mine was abandoned; for it would have
taken years to dig away this dam, and as long as it existed it would be
impossible to go on with the work with the water coming down and filling
up the tunnel once every three days, or thereabouts."
"Every three days!" we both exclaimed. "Is this a regular thing, then,
this flood?"
"Why, yes. I'd forgotten you didn't know that. Yes, it's a pretty
regular thing, and a very curious one, too. Pedro says that up in that
old crater near the top of the mountain there is a great intermittent
spring which every now and then rises up and spills out a great mass of
water. The water comes racing down this gorge, and half an hour later
leaps over the fall here, fills up the pool and the mine, and gradually
drains off again under the dam."
"That certainly is a curious thing," Dick responded. "And it also
furnishes a reason good enough to satisfy anybody for abandoning the
mine. Well, Frank," he went on, "this looks like the end of our
expedition. We've done what we set out to do:--found the King Philip
mine; and now, I suppose, there's nothing left but to turn round and go
home again."
"I suppose so," I assented, regretfully. "I hate to go back; but I'm
afraid we have no excuse for remaining."
"You think you must go back, do you?" asked our friend. "I'm sorry you
should have to do so, but if you must, why shouldn't we travel the first
stage together? I start back to Santa Fé to-morrow, and from there home
to Washington."
"You live in Washington, do you?" said Dick. "Then, why do you go round
by way of Santa Fé? It would be much shorter to go to Mosby--and then we
could ride all the way together."
"I wish I could, but I have to go the other way. I left my baggage
there, for one thing; and besides that I have some inquiries to make
there which my mother asked me to undertake."
Dick nodded. "And then you go straight back to Washington?" he asked.
"Yes. Then I must get straight back home as fast as I can and report to
my father. I had two commissions to perform for him:--one was to look
into the matter of this old mine; the other concerned the present
condition of the Hermanos Grant. The first one I consider settled, but
the other, I find, is a matter for the lawyers: it is too complicated a
subject for me, a stranger in the land and a foreigner."
"A foreigner!" I cried. "Why, we supposed you were an American."
"No," said he. "I am a Spaniard."
"A Spaniard!" we both exclaimed this time.
"Yes," laughing at our astonishment. "A Scotch-Irish-Spaniard--which
seems a queer mixture, doesn't it? Though I was born in Spain, my
forefathers were Irish, my mother is Scotch, and I have lived for
several years first in Edinburgh and then in London; and now my father,
who is in the Spanish diplomatic service, is stationed in Washington."
"And what----?" I began, and then stopped, with some embarrassment, as
it occurred to me that it was not exactly my business.
"And what am I doing out here? you were going to say. I'll tell you. My
father was out in this part of the world a good many years ago, having
business in Santa Fé, where he got track of this old copper mine; but
his idea of its whereabouts was very vague until, about a year ago, a
gentleman whom he had met when he was out here wrote him a letter
telling him of the number of copper utensils to be found down there at
Hermanos---- What's the matter?"
That he should thus exclaim was not to be wondered at if the look of
surprise on my face was anything like the look on Dick's.
"Well, of all the queer things!" exclaimed the latter; and then,
advancing a step and addressing our friend, he said, smiling: "I think
we can guess your name."
"You do!" cried the young fellow. "That seems hardly likely. What is
it?"
"Blake!" replied Dick.