EXPLORING THE TUNNEL
Certain that Slugger Slade would lose no time in putting a safe distance
between himself and the Coleson house, the boys turned their attention
to the opening in the foundation wall, noting with great interest the
ingenious way in which the heavy stone was made to turn on the iron pins
at top and bottom, and examining the simple spring-catch, which held the
slab in place until released by a pressure on the white stone.
“I wish I had hung onto that flashlight,” said Ned Blake regretfully, as
he strove to pierce the inky blackness inside the wall. “We’ll have to
depend on candles for our search, I guess. Wait a minute and I’ll bring
some.”
Ned was back in a moment, and lighting the tapers, he crept cautiously
through the opening followed by the rest of the boys. Within was the
usual litter to be found in the cellar of an unfinished house. Broken
tubs that had been used for the mixing of mortar; wrecked barrels and
boxes of every description choked the space and made movement difficult.
Just inside the wall the boys made their first discovery of interest. On
a nail driven into a joint of the masonry hung a wig and false beard of
coarse white hair and close at hand stood a wooden pickax painted white.
“I guess this puts the lid on one more ghost story,” remarked Ned, as
the articles passed from hand to hand. “Somebody certainly went to a lot
of trouble to work this ghost scare and we’ve yet to find the reason.
There doesn’t seem to be anything of interest at this end of the cellar,
but there’s an open way over to the left. Let’s follow it.”
The flickering light of the candles showed where rubbish had been thrown
aside to provide a clear way, and following this, the boys at length
came upon an angle in the foundation where the new masonry joined what
had once been the wall of the old cellar. Turning this corner, they
found themselves stopped by a low door of solid oak plank and evidently
of recent construction. Taking a cautious step forward, Ned seized the
iron handle, and bracing his foot against the wall, threw his weight
backward. The door yielded and swinging open on its heavy hinges
revealed a steep flight of steps extending downward into the darkness.
“By jiminy! It’s a way into the old mine!” muttered Dick Somers, as he
shaded the candle and peered into the black pit.
“Who’s afraid!” growled Dave Wilbur, as the group hesitated on the brink
of the steep descent. “Go ahead, Ned! We’ll follow!”
Thus urged, Ned felt his way carefully down the slippery stairs followed
closely by the other four. They reached the bottom of the short flight
when suddenly a scurrying sound filled the air. Vague shapes rushed upon
them. The candles were knocked from their hands, and as the lights
flickered out, a pitchy blackness covered them like a blanket.
“Quick! Up the stairs!” shouted Ned.
In this his companions needed no urging, and he followed at their heels
slamming the door behind him. Stumbling blindly against piles of rubbish
in an effort to keep in the narrow lane, the boys reached the cleared
area just inside the opening through which the reflected light of the
moon shone dimly. Crouching there in the faint light, the five stared at
each other for a moment, until Ned Blake broke into shamefaced laugh.
“We’re a brave bunch to be scared out of our wits by a few crazy bats!”
he exclaimed.
“Bats!” echoed Dick Somers and Charlie Rogers together. “Well, can you
beat it!”
“All the same it was a darn scary place!” grumbled Tommy Beals, as he
wiped the sweat and grime from his face. “I was pretty well keyed up
with all that I’d been through and then, when I got a wallop in the eye
and had my candle knocked out of my hand, I wasn’t so sure but what
Coleson’s ghost was on the job after all!”
“It’s a sure bet that whoever has been using this place didn’t try to
light it with candles,” argued Ned. “There must be a lantern or
something of the kind around here.”
Taking a piece of candle from his pocket, Ned lighted it, and after a
short search among the rubbish, discovered a small recess in the wall
where lay a coil of rope, a roll of dirty canvas, and two lanterns.
“We’ll look this junk over later,” he remarked, “but first, let’s see
what we can find down below.”
The lanterns were lighted and once more the boys descended the wooden
stairs. The bats attacked again, but after battering uselessly against
the lantern globes, they soon gave up the unequal contest. At the bottom
of the stairway was a narrow tunnel sloping sharply downward. Along its
center extended a pair of rusty iron rails on which stood a light
dump-car.
“This is what Coleson used to haul up the copper ore in from the lower
end of the mine,” remarked Ned as he squeezed past the car, which nearly
filled the narrow space. “These rails run down to the lower end and this
hand-winch was for hauling up the loaded car,” he continued, raising his
lantern to examine a powerful-looking iron windlass bolted to heavy
posts at the upper end of the tunnel.
“Here’s something funny!” cried Charlie Rogers, pointing to the wire
cable which was wound upon the drum of the winch. “That wire rope looks
to be brand new!”
“There’s no question of that,” declared Ned, after a close inspection,
“and the gears of this winch are thick with fresh grease! This outfit
has been used recently, or I miss _my_ guess!”
“What’s that _little_ windlass for?” asked Beals, pointing to a small
device fastened to the wall. “Look! There’s a wire rope extending down
along the roof of the tunnel!”
Dave Wilbur mounted upon the dump-car and reaching upward pulled hard on
the rope.
“Gee whiz! It’s as tight as a bow string!” he exclaimed. “I wonder who
or what is pulling on the other end!”
Picking up a stone, Ned knocked up the pawl which held the ratchet of
the little winch. Instantly the drum began to revolve and the cable
reeled off rapidly for perhaps a dozen yards when it came to a sudden
stop. Seizing the crank handle, Ned attempted to reel it back but the
pull upon it was too great, and only when Rogers and Beals had come to
his assistance, did he succeed in rewinding the cable to its former
position.
“By jiminy! This beats me!” ejaculated Dick. “Let’s follow that rope
down and see who or what is pulling on it!”
“Not on your life!” chorused Beals and Rogers. “It’s too darned black
and spooky-looking down there!”
Dave Wilbur also appeared reluctant to penetrate further into the mine.
“All right, you fellows keep one of the lanterns, and Dick and I will
take the other and see what’s going on down below,” said Ned, “but
instead of walking down the track we’ll ride down on the car. You can
handle the winch and let us down slowly and be all ready to haul us up
again when we yell.”
“That’s what I call pretty soft!” grumbled Dave. “I wish I had enlisted
with Dick! All the hard work is going to be up at _this_ end!”
Ned and Dick climbed upon the car; Beals released the brake of the winch
and the car started of its own weight.
“Keep your foot on the brake, Fatty,” warned Ned. “Don’t let her get
going too fast or she’ll jump the track!”
And then as the snaky cable reeled steadily from the winch-drum, the
dump-car, carrying the two lads, swayed and jolted downward into the
blackness of the tunnel.