A PEEP AT GOLD AND SILVER MINES
“The tree is caught fast!”
“I know it, Frank, but I don’t think it will stay caught for long!”
What the two chums said was true--the tree had caught in the boiling
and foaming water, directly in the middle of the stream. The spray
was flying all about them, so that they could scarcely make out what
was ahead. But they heard a noise that could mean but one thing. A
waterfall was there, dashing with a roar over the rocks and falling
into a big pool below.
A minute went by. The tree was swinging around slowly. Now it began to
grate along the rocks. Of a sudden an end bobbed up and then the tree
was free, and on it rushed for the waterfall.
“We are going over!” shrieked Frank, and held fast, not knowing exactly
why. Mark tried to answer, but the roar all around them drowned out
every other sound.
On they went for a hundred yards, between rocks standing up higher than
their heads. Then the brink of the waterfall was gained and here the
tree seemed to pause for a moment. Over it went, carrying the boys with
it, over and down, out of the sunlight into utter darkness.
By instinct more than reason both boys clung fast to the tree and that
was their salvation. Down they went into the pool and the torrent of
water came on top of them, sending them far beneath the surface. How
long they remained under they could not tell, afterward, but it seemed
an age. When they came up each was more dead than alive. But still they
clung to the tree as it drifted away and lodged among the rocks a short
distance further down the river.
“Frank, are you all right?” Mark asked the question, feebly, some ten
minutes later.
“I--I guess so,” was the gasped out answer. “But, oh, Mark, wasn’t it
an awful tumble?”
“That’s what it was, Frank. I didn’t think we’d come out of it alive.”
They left the tree and sat down on the rocks, and there rested for over
an hour. The noise of the waterfall still thundered in their ears, but
otherwise all was silent.
At last Mark arose and stretched himself. “If we are all right we may
as well go on again,” he said.
“On the tree?”
“Yes. I don’t think there is any danger of another waterfall--at least
not close by. We can watch the water and if the current gets too swift
we can turn into shore before the tree gets beyond our control again.”
So it was agreed, and soon they were on the way once more. Below the
falls the river was narrow for several miles but the current was not
very swift, for much of the water was carried off by side streams
flowing in various directions.
“We don’t seem to be getting to the Orinoco very fast,” observed Frank,
after all of five miles had been covered. “I’ll wager we are at least
twenty to thirty miles from camp.”
“Perhaps we are. But what do you advise? We can’t sit down here and
suck our thumbs.”
“Hark! What was that? A gunshot?”
“It sounded more like a distant explosion,” cried Mark, leaping to
his feet. “There it goes again. An explosion sure enough. What can it
mean?”
“I think I know,” answered Frank. “It means that we are near some kind
of a mine. That was the blasting of rocks.”
“I hope you are right, Frank. It came from down the river, didn’t it?”
“It did. Let us go on. There may be a regular miners’ camp below here.”
Once more they allowed their improvised craft to drift down the stream.
The character of the country was changing, and presently they found
themselves hemmed in by high rocky walls. Then came a bend eastward and
they came in sight of a small settlement. There were a dozen houses
built of timber covered with corrugated iron, and a small engine house
with a tall iron smokestack. Back of the settlement were the openings
to several gold and silver mines. As they approached another explosion
rent the air and they saw a large section of a cliff give way and fall
to the rocks below.
There were several boats tied up to a tiny dock running along the
river, and the men on these gazed curiously at the boys as they drifted
up and leaped aboard one of the craft.
“Where come you from?” demanded one of the men, in Spanish.
“We are American,” said Mark. “Can you speak English?”
“Americans, eh?” put in another man. “I’m an American myself. How did
you get on that tree?”
“It’s a long story,” answered Mark. “We were with a party along the
Orinoco but we went ashore and got lost. Are we far from that river?”
“Eight miles. You look pretty wet.”
“We came over the falls.”
“Gee whiz! It’s a wonder you are alive!” burst out the American, whose
name was Simon Smither. “Come ashore, and I’ll take you to the boss.
This place is Castroville. Maybe you’ve heard of it. We have here the
Little Bolivar and the Moonlight Mines, two of the best payers in this
section of the country.”
“Castroville!” ejaculated Frank. He remembered that Andy Hume had once
mentioned the place to him. “Is there a newcomer here by the name of
Andy Hume?”
“There is. He’s up to the office now. So you know him?”
“We do,” answered Mark, and then told their story while the whole party
hurried from the river to where the offices of the mines were located,
not far from the engine house.
Andy Hume saw them coming and leaped up from a stool to receive them.
“I declare,” he cried. “Where did you come from? Thought you were
hunting and fishing along the Orinoco.”
“We were,” answered Frank, and told of how they had become lost and of
what had followed. “We must get back as soon as we can,” he added. “The
professor and the others will be much worried over our absence.”
The matter was talked over, and by consulting one of the managers of
the mines they obtained permission to use one of the boats, taking
with them a native boatman who knew all the rivers of the vicinity
thoroughly.
“He’ll get you back safe and sound,” said Andy Hume. “He’s a first rate
fellow. He brought me here from Navaleno, forty miles away.”
“But how did you happen to come here?” questioned Mark. “I thought you
were going prospecting?”
“So I was, but at Navaleno I met an old miner friend of mine, Captain
Richards. He has an interest here and he wants me to look after it
while he takes a trip to the States. So I’m booked here at a salary of
two hundred dollars per month and found. Not so bad that, eh?” And the
boys agreed that the arrangement was certainly very promising.
A comfortable meal and a chance to dry their clothing made both boys
feel much better. While they were eating they asked a number of
questions about the mines and when they had finished Andy Hume insisted
upon showing them around.
“The output of these mines will be about six hundred thousand dollars
this year,” he said. “To get out the gold and silver will cost the
combined companies about two hundred thousand dollars, leaving a profit
to the stockholders of four hundred thousand dollars. We have here all
the latest machinery with the exception of a newly-patented quartz
crusher which is now being built for us in the United States. At first
the mining around here was what is commonly called cradling or placer
mining,--that is, the miners would pick up what they could find on the
surface or by ordinary digging--but that is past and all we get has to
be blasted out of the mountains.”
An hour was spent in and around the mines, inspecting the shafts and
the various machines for extracting the gold and silver. Then the
boatman came up to announce that the boat was ready and they started to
leave.
As they did so a strange boat, containing several passengers, arrived
at the dock close at hand. As the passengers came toward where Frank
and Mark were standing, the latter plucked the former hurriedly by the
sleeve.
“See there, Frank,” he whispered.
Frank looked in the direction and gave a start.
“Why it’s that Dan Markel, the fellow who robbed Hockley!” he
ejaculated.