UNDERNEATH THE GROUND
For several days after the adventure with the bear Roger had no
opportunity of going to the glade where the spring bubbled up, in order
to find, if possible, what object the two engineers had in drilling
there. Adrian was obliged to busy himself with various duties about the
farm and garden, in order to get ready for the advanced spring planting,
and Roger felt that he ought to help his cousin. But, all this time,
Roger was busy thinking how he might accomplish his object, and get some
of that mysterious substance which Mr. Dudley and Mr. Ranquist examined
so eagerly.
He thought of a number of plans, but rejected them all as impracticable.
Most of them would have necessitated the bringing in of some one to help
him, and this he did not want to do. Even when busiest at his tasks with
Adrian, his mind was continually on this one subject, and, after a few
days, it seemed it would be impossible for him, with his own unaided
efforts, to dig down into the earth and find what was beneath the
surface. But Roger was not a boy who gave a thing up because it was
difficult.
One night, after a somewhat hard day in the garden, during which the
boys had set out a lot of cabbage plants, and hoed the early beans,
they were sitting in the parlor, Adrian showing Roger some books. One
was a sea story, and there was a picture of a sailor heaving the log, in
the old-fashioned way. Roger glanced at the reading matter, which told
how, on board ship, the lead was sounded, and how the speed of the ship,
as well as the depth of the water through which she was sailing, was
ascertained.
The tale went on to relate how sometimes, the sailors used a piece of
lead, with a hollow scooped in the lower end, into which space they
would place some tallow. Then they would throw the weighted line
overboard, and when the lead struck bottom, some of the mud and shells,
of which the ocean bed is composed, would adhere to the grease in the
hollow, scooped-out place. When the sinker was hauled to the surface and
examined, experienced seamen could tell what sort of an anchorage they
might find.
Roger started when he read this. He glanced over it again, carefully,
and his heart beat suddenly, at the idea which came to him. His cheeks
burned red with the happy thought, and he was almost afraid that Adrian
would see his excitement, and question him. He made an excuse to go to
his room, and busied himself there some time before he blew out his
light and went to bed.
[Illustration: "His heart beat suddenly at the idea which came to him"]
He dreamed, that night, of climbing down into a deep, dark mine, which
sparkled and glittered with the gold and diamonds lining the steep
sides.
The next day Roger made a hasty breakfast. To his relief Adrian did not
ask him to help with the farm work, nor did the country lad suggest, as
he often did, a tramp through the woods; and Roger was very glad, for
he had a plan to put in operation.
So, as soon as Adrian had left the house, having to go on an errand to a
neighbor's, Roger stepped out of the back door, and made his way slowly
to the path that led up through the vineyard, and, so on, to the spring
glade. His pocket bulged with a number of objects, and, though he tried
not to show it, he was considerably excited. It did not take him long to
reach the spot where he had hidden himself from sight the day he watched
Mr. Ranquist and Mr. Dudley drill down into the earth. He was almost
afraid something might have happened to the place, but a careful look,
showed him nothing had been disturbed.
There was the stone, behind which he first took his position, and the
log, in the protecting shadow of which he had worked his way to a spot
whence he might hear better. There was the second stone, and, after a
little searching about he was able to discover the stick that the men
had driven into the hole in the ground. He remembered pulling this up,
after they had gone, and his disappointment at not finding anything
there. Now he was resolved to be more careful in his method.
He looked warily about, to see that he was unobserved, and then he
slowly took up the small stake, so as not to disturb the dirt around the
edges of the opening. In this he was successful, and, after a few
seconds he was able to lift out the stick, and was rewarded by seeing a
small circular shaft, about two inches in diameter, extending down into
the unfathomable blackness. Now Roger was soon to know whether his plan
would succeed.
From his pocket he drew a long, stout fishline, at one end of which was
fastened a lead weight, slightly smaller around than the hole, and
having a saucer-shaped depression in one end. He made sure that the
sinker was tight on the string. From a small bottle he took a little
rosin and beeswax, which he had decided to use instead of the tallow
that served the sailors. He could get the wax more easily, and he
thought that by stiffening it with rosin, it would answer just as well.
Now he was all ready to put his scheme into execution.
Lying down flat on his face, he carefully lowered the weight into the
hole, keeping a strong hold of the string, so it would not pay out too
fast. How anxiously did he watch the slender cord slipping down and down
into the depths, the leaden messenger pulling it with a gentle force.
Farther and farther it went into the black hole. What would it come to
rest on? Would it fulfil its mission, and get to the bottom of the
opening? Or would the line be cut by sharp rocks? Once, when it had gone
a quarter of the length of the string, the lead caught on some
projection. How Roger's heart beat, fearing it would go no farther. He
cautiously pulled the weight up a little and let it fall gently. This
served to pass it beyond the stone that probably jutted out and stopped
the progress momentarily. Then it kept on going down. The boy was
straining every nerve in his eagerness to see what was down there, at
the bottom of that little hole.
At length, after a few minutes, during which time the line had slid
through his fingers, it suddenly slackened. Was this the end of the tiny
shaft, or only another catch and temporary stopping on the downward
journey? The boy pressed himself closer to the ground. He raised the
string and from slackness it became taut with the heft of lead. Then
Roger let it fall again, and it seemed to strike solid earth, or
something. The cord no longer payed out. Once, twice, three times, he
tried this, raising the weight and letting it fall suddenly, so that the
wax and rosin in the saucer-shaped end might catch whatever there was at
the bottom of the hole, and retain it.
Then Roger began to raise the lead to the surface. He worked slowly, and
more cautiously than he had in lowering it, as, if the string caught on
a projection now, it would be almost impossible to pull it up without
tearing off the weight, and that would mean the failure of the whole
plan. It was necessary to be careful, also, in order that whatever was
imbedded in the wax might not be shaken off. Hand over hand he drew the
cord up, and, with a fiercely beating heart, he saw the sinker come into
view. He reached for it with trembling hands. Then, in the glow of the
sunlight which streamed down on him, he turned the lead so that he might
behold what the wax contained.
[Illustration: "Then Roger began to raise the lead to the surface"]
If he expected to see glittering specks of yellow gold, he was sorely
disappointed. Nor was there anything he could think represented wealth,
not even pieces of some mineral which would account for the great
interest Mr. Dudley and Mr. Ranquist showed in their discovery.
With eyes that were a trifle dim from a sense that he had failed, Roger
gazed at the waxed end of the weight. Imbedded in the sticky surface the
boy saw some white crystals, which glinted and sparkled in the sun. Only
some white crystals, that might have been chipped off a light-colored
rock. To Roger they meant nothing. Almost idly he brushed them into the
palm of his hand and rose to his feet. This, then, was the end of his
hopes. The hole in the earth meant nothing, or else had been drilled for
some object he could not discover. His golden dream of hidden wealth
beneath his uncle's farm, by which the mortgage could be paid, was over
now.
He turned away, and was about to throw the white crystals aside, when a
sound behind caused him to start. He saw, emerging from the woods, Mr.
Ranquist. The engineer appeared much disturbed at the sight of the boy.
He stood still a moment, and then came forward rapidly. In his hand he
carried a valise, which, as he dropped it on the ground, gave forth a
metallic, clanking sound. Mr. Ranquist came close to Roger, who scarcely
knew what to do.
"Well," began the man, and his voice was so strange that the boy felt
vaguely alarmed, "well--" and he stopped.
"How do you do, Mr. Ranquist?" said the lad, as politely as he knew how.
"Humph! What right--I mean, what are you doing here? Spying on me? If
you are, I warn you, boy, you'll be sorry for it. I have been suspicious
of you, since the other day when you offered to lead us here. Now," and
the engineer spoke sternly, "what do you mean?"
"Why, Mr. Ranquist--I--er--I--"
"No nonsense, now!"
For a moment Roger was somewhat frightened. Then his natural courage
came back to him, and he felt a just resentment at the tone and manner
of the man.
"Mr. Ranquist," he said. "I have as much right, and more, than you have,
on this property. I--"
"What have you in your hand?" interrupted the engineer, looking at the
fist which Roger unconsciously had closed over the white crystals. "And
what are you doing with that string and weight," as he caught sight of
the fishline and sinker. "Answer me!"
Mr. Ranquist darted suddenly at Roger, exclaiming:
"You have been trying to discover the secret of the hole we drilled!
Well I'll spoil that game for you, my young friend!"
With a violent spring the engineer was almost upon the boy, but Roger
was too quick for him. He leaped to one side, his fist tightly clenched
over the crystals, which now seemed of considerable value to him, when
he saw what importance Mr. Ranquist attached to the matter. With a cry
of astonishment and anger at the threatened attack, but showing no sign
of fear, Roger bounded out of the glade and ran through the woods, and
down the hill, with Mr. Ranquist crashing through the brush after him.
The chase was on.
After the first rush and surprise Roger collected his thoughts, and
determined that Mr. Ranquist should not catch him. Or if the man outran
him, he resolved he would not give up what he had without a fierce
struggle. The excitement of the desperate race urged him on, and he felt
he could run a mile or more. He knew he was in a better condition for
sprinting than he had been in many months. So when he heard the engineer
coming after him, he was almost pleased at the idea of the running
contest. He believed he could win.
So he kept on, now stumbling over a low stump or a projecting root, now
tripping on a fallen log, or sinking into a soft spot, but never
slacking pace. The sounds made by his pursuer came more faintly to him.
Presently they died away altogether, and the boy felt he could safely
stop. He listened intently, but there came not a noise from the woods
behind him. Mr. Ranquist had given up.
"Well," thought Roger, defiantly, "he didn't make me give him these
crystals, and he didn't catch me. Now I wonder what I had better do?"
He thought over the situation for a few minutes, while he rested from
the chase, and then he decided on a plan.
"I'll bet Mr. Ranquist and Mr. Dudley will do something very soon now,"
he said to himself. "He thinks I have discovered his secret, and so I
have, though I don't know exactly what it is. But as long as he thinks I
have found him out, he'll be likely to get possession of Uncle Bert's
land. And Uncle Bert will sell it to him because he needs the money so
much, and he'll never know there's something valuable hidden under the
surface until it is too late. I must hurry to Professor Bailey and see
what he says. He ought to be able to tell what these crystals are."
With a heart that beat very hopefully Roger went down the path, and by a
roundabout way to the professor's house. He did not want Mr. Kimball to
see him. The boy knocked on the door, which was answered by Mrs. Bailey.
"Sorry," she said, in response to Roger's question, "but Professor
Bailey is not home. He went away this morning, to be gone several weeks.
Can I do anything for you?"
"No," replied Roger, and his heart sank. It would be too late, unless he
could soon find out what the white crystals were, for his uncle was not
likely to delay in the sale of the land on merely a boy's suspicion.
What was he to do? Pondering on this problem, he left the front gate of
the professor's house just as a wagon rattled up.