ON THE CROSS-HEAD.
"The bees and the wasps were there.
The old queen bee, with fiendish glee,
Was pulling a hornet's hair.
The monkey thought 'twas rough;
He took a pinch of snuff,
And then the bees began to sneeze,
And left,"--
sang a clear, boyish voice outside, and the next moment steps were heard
on the piazza.
"Who's that?" asked Marjorie, glancing up from the skating cap, which,
with infinite pains, she was crocheting, in thoughtful anticipation of
Howard's birthday, the following summer.
"Charlie; don't you know his voice?" responded Allie, who was sitting
with one foot tucked under her, while she sewed the buttons on her shoe.
"How should I? I've never heard him sing," answered Marjorie.
"You will soon, for he and Ned are to lead the new choir at Easter.
Charlie seems to be feeling unusually comf'y to-day," said his cousin,
as the boy came in at the side door opening into the dining-room, and
walked over to the corner where they were sitting, curled up by the
stove. "Where'd you get that pretty song?" she added.
"Made it up, of course; didn't you know I was a poet?" inquired Charlie
blandly, while he nodded to Marjorie, and then pulled off his glasses to
wipe away the steam condensed on them by the sudden change from the cold
outer air to the heat within the house.
"I never should have supposed so," Marjorie answered, laughing. "You
look altogether too plump and well-fed."
"Can't help it; you can't tell by looking at a toad how far he'll hop. I
wrote it 'all my lone,' as Vic says," responded Charlie. "I'm very proud
of it, too."
"Sit down and amuse us," said Allie, hospitably drawing a chair nearer
the fire.
"No, thank you; I'm engaged, and must be going," returned Charlie, with
a lofty air of importance which was not without its effect upon his
cousin.
"What's going on?" she asked curiously. "I told Marjorie that you acted
unusually set up over something."
"I met Mr. Everett just now, and he told me that, if I'd get over to the
smelter at three, he'd let me go down the mine this afternoon."
"O Charlie, take us with you," begged his cousin, starting up, forgetful
of the fact that she was still without one shoe. "I've never been, and I
do want to go, so much."
"Can't; girls aren't invited," said Charlie heartlessly. "He did say
that he'll take us all at once, though, as soon as they put the cage in,
next month; but he doesn't like to take but one at a time, on this thing
they're running now. I wish you could go, for 'twould be lots more fun."
"'Tisn't much to go down," said Marjorie, with an air of superior
wisdom. "It's dark and slippery, and not any too clean; and you have to
get out of the way of something or other, most every minute."
"Yes, I know," said Allie; "it's all very well to say that, when you've
been; but I never had a chance to go. I was ill the time Howard went;
and now I shall be the only one left that hasn't been down. I hope
you'll have an awfully good time, though, Charlie, and not get lost, or
smashed, or anything else that's bad, while you're underground. Isn't it
growing colder?" she added, as Charlie turned up the collar of his
ulster and scientifically pinched the edges of his ears, preparatory to
starting out once more.
"'T isn't exactly balmy," he answered. "Want anything, before I go?" And
a moment later the door closed behind him.
"You're a lucky girl, Allie," said Marjorie, while she watched the
figure striding along down the road. "Even Ned says he's the jolliest
fellow in town, all but Howard."
"Yes, 't is good to have him here," said Allie contentedly, as she
slipped on her shoe and stooped to button it up. "He's just as
good-natured and nice as he can be; and I think I like him better than
any boy I ever saw, except Howard, even if he hasn't been here quite a
month."
"Not better than Ned?" Marjorie exclaimed incredulously.
"Well--no--I don't know," said Allie, wavering a little. "Ned's just
about as near right as he can be; but I believe, after all, I'd rather
live in the house with Charlie. Ned might be a little too peppery for a
steady diet."
"I never thought you'd turn a cold shoulder to Ned," said Marjorie,
shaking her head over Allie's defection. "Charlie's very nice and
gentlemanly, and all that, but I don't believe he has half Ned's pluck.
Do you remember the time he sprained his wrist falling off his pony, way
up the gulch, and wouldn't tell of it till we were home again? I don't
think Charlie Mac would stand that kind of thing long. There's no
special reason he shouldn't be agreeable; we've all of us tried our best
to make him have a good time."
"Charlie isn't a baby, though," returned Allie, valiantly rising to the
defence of her cousin. "You think, just because he knows more about
music than 'most anybody else in the camp, and looks and acts as if he
came from a city, that he's more than half girl. But I'll tell you he
isn't, Marjorie, and if anything came to try him, you'd find he'd come
up to the mark every bit as well as Ned. I don't know as I care to have
anything happen, though, just for the sake of proving it."
In the mean time, the subject of the conversation was walking rapidly in
the direction of the smelter, whose pile of huge red buildings lay a
little to the southeast of the town, across the creek and close to the
foot of the mountain which towered above it sheer and straight. A few
hundred feet down the canon below it, and a little farther back from the
creek, was the shaft leading down into the mine, and beside it the
engine house with the machinery needful for raising the ore, and for
carrying the miners to and from the cross-cuts, hundreds of feet below.
Though he had often been to the smelter with Ned and Grant, it was the
first time that Charlie had visited the place alone. He felt very small
and insignificant, as he stepped inside the enclosure, with its array of
great buildings, mammoth chimneys whence rose the smoke from countless
and undying fires, and its throng of busy workers. Then he entered the
little building which served as superintendent's office, and in a moment
the whir and clang of the outer life was left behind him, and he found
himself in a quiet, pleasant room, with only a collection of maps and
photographs and specimens of ores, to tell of the vast business
centering there. As the boy shyly came in at the door, Mr. Everett rose
to receive him.
"O Charlie, you're just on the minute, and I'm all ready for you," he
said, glancing up at the clock.
"Somers, I'm going down the shaft with this young man; if anybody wants
me, tell him I'll be here at five." And, putting on his overcoat, he
went away, followed by Charlie, who was filled with an eager enthusiasm
at the idea of going so far towards the center of the earth.
"I'm sorry," Mr. Everett said, as they followed a path winding in and
out among the buildings, and then came out on the main road leading to
the shaft; "I'm sorry that we haven't time to take in the smelter, too,
to-day; but you can go there almost any time. Any of the men in the
office can take you through it, as well as I can; but I don't let
strangers go into the mine unless I'm with them. We're going to put in a
new cage, next month," he added casually, as they drew near the shaft.
"What's that for?" asked Charlie, to whom cages and their construction
were a mystery.
"Safer, and can carry more," answered his host concisely. "These
cross-heads and buckets are slow work. A two-deck cage will do the same
amount in much less time, and there's no fear of their catching, as
these do sometimes."
As he spoke, they paused to look at the gearing of windlass and cable at
the mouth of the shaft; then Charlie cautiously approached the opening.
After all he had heard of mines and shafts, it was rather disappointing
to him to see only a great, square hole leading down into the depths of
the earth. What he had expected, it would be hard to say; but it is
certain that his disappointment deepened when, after three strokes from
the engineer's bell, the hoisting engine suddenly started into life,
and, out from the darkness of the shaft, there slowly emerged into view
an ungainly contrivance of four great timbers, arranged in a hollow
square and hung on a cable, which passed freely through openings in the
upper and lower timbers, to carry a huge bucket fastened to its end,
while a black-faced miner stood in the bucket, much in the attitude of a
jack-in-the-box after the spring is loosed.
"That's what we call the cross-head, above," explained Mr. Everett. "It
slides free on the rope, and rests on the fastening of the bucket. Now
you see how we bring up the ore."
"But do we have to go down in that thing?" inquired Charlie, drawing
back in disgust, as he surveyed the grimy, dusty bucket before him.
"Not unless you prefer it," Mr. Everett answered, laughing. "It's
against rules to ride in it; and anyway I usually go on the cross-head,
myself, for the bucket reminds me too much of Simple Simon. Step on
here," he added, as the crude elevator sank down until the upper beam
was on a level with the surface of the ground. "Now, if you just hold
on to the rope, you're all right. Let us go slowly, Joe," he went on, to
the waiting engineer; "I want to take a look at the shaft, as we go
down. We'll try the seven-hundred level to-day."
A moment later, they began to sink away from the light above them, while
the opening at the mouth of the shaft grew smaller and smaller to their
eyes, and their lamps only cast a sickly, uncertain light on the walls
beside them. They went down slowly, so slowly, that, as soon as he had
had time to accustom himself to the new sensation, Charlie had plenty of
opportunity to examine the walls. For the most part, they were roughly
cased with boards and surrounded at intervals by the massive
collar-timbers, projecting ten or twelve inches inside the boards. At
each side of the shaft were the heavy upright guides, running from top
to bottom and serving to keep in place the cross-head, which was fitted
to move easily between them. Down, down they went, for what seemed to
the boy a limitless distance. They had passed a great square chamber,
opening into along, lighted corridor which Mr. Everett had told him were
the station and cross-cut at the four-hundred level, and still they were
sinking. All at once they came to a sudden stop, and the next instant
Charlie felt the rope he was holding slowly drawing down through his
hands. Mr. Everett gave a quick exclamation.
"Let go the rope!" he commanded abruptly.
"I'm perfectly willing," answered Charlie, laughing, as he rubbed his
tingling palms. "What's up, anyway? We don't seem to be anywhere in
particular."
"We're caught a little," replied Mr. Everett quietly. "You needn't be
frightened, for it's happened before. All is, the cross-head has caught,
and the bucket is going down without us, and taking the rope with it.
Have you a steady head?"
"I s'pose so," said Charlie lightly, for, in his ignorance of mines, he
had no idea of the possible danger of his position.
"Very well; can you turn around and step down on the beam that's just
below us?" returned Mr. Everett, still speaking in the same calm voice,
though with the brevity of a captain giving his orders on a field of
battle. "If you can, do it, and then put your arm around the back of the
guide there. So; that's all right."
In another moment, he had followed Charlie, and taken his place beside
him on the other side of the guide, where he showed the boy how to grasp
the timber in such a way that the cross-head, coming up, should not
touch his arm. That done, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"There!" he said; "now we're safe for the time being. The next question
is: how are we going to get out of this trap?"
"Why couldn't we stay on the cross-head?" asked Charlie, as it began to
move slowly away from the spot where it had lodged.
"Just that reason," returned Mr. Everett, with a motion of his head
towards the clumsy frame which, once loosed, went sliding away down the
rope after the bucket. "Though you may not have known it, young man, you
were never in a much more dangerous place than you were five minutes
ago; for, as soon as it could get free, the cross-head was going to
crash down on top of the bucket, with force enough to kill anybody that
happened to be on it. I knew 'twould go, sooner or later; but I didn't
feel so sure that we could get off in time."
"Then it's done it before?" asked Charlie, in no wise moved by the
knowledge of his past danger, but, boy-like, rather enjoying the novelty
of his position, halfway down the shaft of the mine, and lodged like a
fly on the wall, with only a narrow beam between himself and a fall of
four or five hundred feet.
"Once," answered Mr. Everett, amused, in spite of his anxiety, by the
boy's coolness. "It killed four men on the cross-head, and the one in
the bucket; but they have such accidents in the other mines often
enough, so we know about what the chances are. That's one reason we're
going to put in a cage. Now," he went on, resuming his tone of
authority, "don't you try to move, and, above all, don't look down. I'm
going to get round to the other side, where I can reach the bell-rope,
and signal the engineer to bring up the cross-head again."
"Not walk around on this beam!" exclaimed Charlie, as his interest
changed to genuine alarm, for he realized that such an attempt was a
very different matter from standing quiet and holding on by the upright
timber between them.
"There's no other way," Mr. Everett answered, as he started on his
perilous journey. "I can't reach to signal, from this side, and they
never would find us without. We can't very well stay here, so that seems
to be the only thing I can do. You needn't be alarmed, my boy," he added
kindly, as he saw that the lad was now thoroughly frightened for his
safety. "I am used to all these ins and outs, and know about what I can
do, even if I never happened to get caught just here before. We miners
get to be half monkeys, and can hang on where most men would fall."
He cautiously moved away a few inches along the beam; then he turned
back to add one parting caution.
[Illustration: "He cautiously moved away a few inches along the beam."]
"Remember," he said, "and don't try to look down, even if you think you
hear the cross-head coming up again. If you do, you are likely to get
dizzy and fall."
How long it took for Mr. Everett to creep around the shaft, neither he
nor Charlie ever knew. To them both, the moments seemed long, but to Mr.
Everett, in particular, they were like hours, for he realized so keenly
all the danger of their position, and felt the added responsibility for
the young boy in his care. Inch by inch, step by step, he worked his way
forward, until at length he reached the opposite guide, and felt the
signal cord between his fingers. Then he knew that all trouble was
ended.
One, two, three! rang out the engineer's bell.
The engineer was perplexed. He had been lowering the bucket more and
more slowly, and still there had reached him no summons to stop,
although his dial told him that the cross-head must be far below the
seven-hundred level. And now came the summons to raise slowly, when he
was sure that it was near the level of no station. What was the matter?
It was evident that there was some trouble.
Slowly the engine drew up the bucket. It had passed the six-hundred
level, then the five, and was now half way to the four-hundred, when the
bell rang again, a single stroke this time, the order to stop. The
engine was left motionless for some moments, while the engineer, with an
anxious face, stood awaiting a fresh signal. He knew that something was
wrong, and that it must concern the superintendent, since he had been
the last man to go down. He spoke a few quick words to his assistant,
and in a moment more a little crowd had gathered at the mouth of the
shaft, just as the bell sounded again, three strokes.
Standing once more on the cross-head, Mr. Everett and Charlie could feel
the man's excitement in the very motion of their tiny platform, as,
obedient to the engine, it rose a little, then stopped, then rose again,
as if feeling its way over an uncertain course. So they went on till the
four-hundred level was below them; then the engine quickened its action.
Little by little the tiny dot above them broadened, and turned to a wide
disk of blue sky; and their lamps dwindled to a pale yellow before the
clear light of day, as the cross-head, with its living freight, slowly
came up into the bright air, amid the shouts of the men who stood
waiting to receive it.
"Father said Joe was badly rattled," Ned told Charlie, that night, on
their way to a choir rehearsal. "He was sure 'twas all up with you, and
came near losing his head, so he couldn't run the engine, or answer a
signal."
"I didn't suppose 'twas as bad as that," returned Charlie. "I didn't
much like your father's having to walk round on that beam, or whatever
you call it, but I thought the rest was good fun."
"I told father that I didn't believe you knew enough to be scared," said
Ned, with masculine frankness. "He was talking, all dinner-time, about
the way you kept cool and didn't make a fuss. Father was frightened,
himself; he's never been in such a fix before, with all he's had to do
with mines, and he says he's going to hurry now, to get that cage put in
before they get into any more scrapes. But I just wish I'd been down
there with you," he added enviously. "It's ever so much more fun than
'tis to go straight down, without any hitches."
"I'll wait till I've tried both, before I make up my mind," responded
Charlie, as they reached the door of the chapel, and turned to wait for
Howard and Grant to overtake them.