"IS ANYONE ALIVE IN THERE?"
"Order the timber-men in here! Get a pair of jacks and raise the timbers
bodily. Get a move on you, men! We may be able to save them yet!"
Superintendent Penton, of the Cousin Jack Mine, had been summoned by
telephone at the first sign of trouble. In his miner's outfit, with a
green candle stuck in the holder on his hat, he had hurried down into
the mine and made his way quickly to the sub-level where the accident
had occurred. He needed no guide to reach the place, for he knew the
maze of tunnels of that underground hive of industry so well that he
could have followed them to any given point with his eyes shut.
A few brief, pointed questions had brought out the full story of the
accident, but Mr. Penton had not addressed Spooner; he had made his
inquiries from the men who had been working on that level and in the
drift where the explosion had happened.
"Shovelers, here! Throw that rock back! Be careful that you do not
undermine the lagging and let the roof all the way down. It's lucky the
explosion blew ore enough out to hold the timbers off the ground, or our
work would be much more difficult."
The superintendent had taken full charge of the operations. His long
experience had told him exactly what to do. The official showed no trace
of excitement; instead, his every faculty was centered on the work in
hand. His tones were stern, his orders sharp and incisive.
By this time the jacks had been brought. At the superintendent's
direction a heavy timber had been placed as a support under those that
had been broken and the jacks set to work. Little by little, creaking
and groaning, the wrecked lagging was raised inch by inch.
"Steady, there! Hold it, men!"
Those at the jacks stopped work.
"Let half a dozen shovelers get in there," Penton directed. "Throw out
some of that dirt. We must get an opening as soon as possible to let air
in. Throw away the larger pieces first."
In the meantime the superintendent had ordered a fresh drill brought up,
the one belonging to that shift being in the wrecked drift. A line of
pipe had been laid to the nearest connection to furnish the compressed
air with which to operate the drill.
As soon as the rock had been removed sufficiently, the official ordered
the drill set in place. He indicated where the drilling was to be done
and a moment later the steady "bang, bang" of the diamond drill filled
the air to the exclusion of all other sounds.
"She's through, sir," announced the drill-man, nodding to the
superintendent.
"Withdraw the drill."
The official placed his nose to the hole thus made, and shook his head.
"You haven't reached it. Try a hole above the shoring. We must get air
in there."
Again the powerful drill began its work. Gathered in a closely massed
group were the other miners waiting, silent, anxious, the flames of
candles on their caps flickering and swaying from side to side in the
faint draft that swirled through the long, dark cavern. Attention was
divided between the working drill and the calm-faced, strong,
resourceful man who was directing the operations. He was master and the
men knew it.
"All right." announced the drill-man again.
The superintendent nodded. The drill was withdrawn. Following it came a
little puff of white, nauseating smoke.
"We've hit it," announced the executive calmly. "Now, bore another hole
on the same line but about six feet to the left, so we shall get a draft
through the enclosed drift."
This was promptly done.
The superintendent, as soon as the noise of the drill had ceased, placed
his lips close to the hole thus made.
"Hello, in there! Is anyone alive in there?"
No answer came from the closed drift.
"They're dead. What's the use in bothering about them?" growled Spooner.
Mr. Penton shot a withering glance at the contractor.
"We will proceed on the theory that they are alive until we have learned
that they are not," replied the superintendent coldly.
"Shall we go on raising the lagging?" asked the timber-man.
"No; wait until the powder smoke is out of the drift and some fresh air
has taken its place. The two men in there will be suffocated unless we
free the place of powder fumes. Remove the drill from the pipe and force
a little air through the vent holes. Not too much; just enough to
dislodge the smoke and force it out. It won't stand much pressure.
There, that will do. Now, jackmen, get to work. Keep on shoveling below
there."
Giving his orders calmly and encouragingly, the work proceeded with
great success. The diggers were gradually boring in under the timber
that the jacks were raising.
After a time their shovels and bars poked a hole through the debris into
the drift. It was a small hole, so small that the average man would have
difficulty in getting through it.
Among those who had hurried to the scene was Bob Jarvis. He had been
using a shovel industriously, and when the opening had been made he
stepped up to the superintendent.
"I think I can crawl in there now, if you will let me. I want to get
that Hurry-up kid out," added Bob.
"Go in, if you think you can get through," nodded the superintendent.
"Better tie a rope to one foot before you start, so we can pull you out
if you get wedged in."
While Bob was making ready, the official got down on his hands and knees
and examined the opening in the attempt to satisfy himself that it would
be safe for a man to go through.
A moment more and Bob Jarvis was wriggling through the little tunnel on
his stomach. There was still so much smoke in the drift that he nearly
choked as he pulled himself up and began groping about in the darkness.
Now that he was in he lighted his candle, and there before him lay the
man and the boy.
Bob gave Rush a violent shake. Steve opened his eyes.
"So you're all right, eh?"
"Ye--yes. Have--have you come to li--lick me?" mumbled Steve closing his
eyes.
"No; I've come to get you out of this hole. We'll talk about the licking
later on. Is the other fellow dead?"
Rush pulled himself to a sitting posture at this.
"No; I think not. He was alive when I went to sleep. He may be dead now.
Come, we must get him out. How did you get in?"
"Crawled in through that hole. Come along; I'll help you out first. You
need looking after, judging from your appearance."
Steve Rush's face was ghastly white and covered with blood in spots. He
had sustained a scalp wound where a sharp-edged rock had hit him. It was
evident, however, that the powder-man was in much more serious
condition. The man was still breathing when Bob peered into his face.
"Yes; he's alive, but I'll help you out now," Jarvis repeated.
"You will do nothing of the sort. This man needs attention first. I'll
help you with him. How are we going to get him through that small
opening without hurting him?"
"We'll have to do the best we can," answered Bob.
"I'll tell you, Jarvis; you crawl in backwards and I will hand him to
you. Tell those on the outside to get hold of your feet and pull when
you get far enough in. Do you think he will go through the hole?"
"No; we've got to dig away some dirt inside here first. This end is the
smaller. The other is large enough for him. It's lucky he isn't a fat
man, or we could not do it."
Together the lads labored industriously for several minutes.
"Are they alive?" called the voice of the superintendent through the
hole.
"Yes, both of them. Powder-man badly injured, I think."
All preparations being made, Bob crawled into the hole, while Steve, as
carefully as he could, thrust the powder-man in after, feet first.
It was a difficult task that Jarvis had set for himself, but he went at
it with stubborn determination. Finally, after moments of wriggling and
inch-by-inch progress, the men outside the drift managed to get hold of
his feet, as Steve had directed them to do. The rest was easy.
It was now Steve's turn, and he crawled through the hole as quickly as
possible, though he felt himself growing momentarily weaker. At last he
stood outside the drift. He was swaying giddily.
"Take this boy to the hospital," directed the superintendent.
"I'm all right, sir. That is, I will be as soon as I recover from the
effects of the smoke. I'll----"
"I suppose you hid behind the powder-man to save yourself," sneered
Spooner.
Mr. Penton turned on the man, his face flushing hotly. It was the first
time the superintendent had shown the slightest trace of excitement.
"That will do, Spooner. You cut that out. You ought to be ashamed of
yourself after this boy has saved your life. I know all about it. You
will see to it that he gets full time while he is laying off in the
hospital."
"Not at my expense he won't."
"Very well; then let it be at my own. But I shall see to it that you do
not get another contract in the Cousin Jack Mine after you have finished
with this one. I shall have something to say to you later, also, about
this accident."
"Oh, of course I'll pay him if that's the way you feel about it. I'll
pay him."
"I thought you would," answered the superintendent dryly.
In the meantime the powder-man had been conveyed to the surface and
removed to the hospital in the superintendent's carriage, the driver
having received orders to return at once.
"Do you feel able to walk, Rush?" questioned the executive.
"Ye--yes, sir; I--I think so, sir."
"I'll help him," spoke up Bob Jarvis quickly.
"Yes; help him to the cage and go up with him."
Steve found that he was weaker than he thought, but leaning on Bob's
strong arm he made his way to the lower level, where the lads caught the
cage a few moments later and were conveyed to the surface.
"I'll not forget this, Jarvis," murmured Steve.
"Forget what?"
"Your kindness to me."
"I'm kind to you for another reason. I'll see you later. When you get
well I'll have something to say to you, Miss Hurry-up," was Bob's
parting shot, as he lifted the lad into the carriage and turned back to
the shaft to return to his work below ground.