DOWN IN A GOLD MINE
"It's going to take over two hours to get out there," said Dick, as he
and his companions tramped on. "I don't know how long we'll stay. It all
depends on circumstances. If they discover us we'll not stay as long as
we otherwise would," and he laughed. "But I guess it's an all-night job.
Well, the road is a good one, and it's a nice night."
"That's what it is," answered Frank. "That moon looks as if it was pure
silver, hung up there in the sky."
"You're getting poetical," commented Dick.
"Dat oughter be a gold moon to be right in de swim," was Tim's opinion.
"What do you expect to do when you get to the mine?" asked Frank, as,
now that they were beyond the borders of Yazoo City, they were not
afraid to talk of their object.
"I hardly know," answered Dick. "What I want to find out is whether or
not that mine is a fake one."
"How do youse tell a fake gold mine?" asked Tim. "Is it like a lead
nickel or counterfeit money so youse can tell by bitin' a chunk of it?"
"Hardly," replied Dick, with a laugh. "I've been reading up about mines
lately, and, according to the book, the most common way of making a fake
mine is to 'salt' it, or 'sweat' it."
"Salt it?" repeated Frank. "I've heard of salting cattle, but never
mines."
"That doesn't describe it very well," went on Dick, "but that's what
they call it. Sometimes it is termed 'sweating.' By either way it means
making the ore in the mine look as if it was filled with gold, when, in
fact, the gold had only been put there by some man who wanted a
worthless mine to look like a good one."
"How do they do it?" asked Tim.
"The most common way is to take some real gold dust, put it into a
shotgun, load it heavily with powder and shoot it at the side of the
mine. The gold particles are shot into the rock a little way and it
appears like real ore. They do this several times down the sides of a
rocky mine and it looks very much like the real thing. After a man has
bought the mine and begins to dig, he discovers it's all a fake."
"Wow!" exclaimed Tim. "T'ink of shootin' gold out of a gun. I wish
somebody'd take a few shots at me. Easy ones, of course, so's I could
live to enjoy it."
"There are other ways of making fake mines," went on Dick, "but I
didn't read much about them."
"Do you think the Hop Toad and Dolphin mines are fakes?" asked Frank.
"That's what I'm afraid of. But I'm pretty sure Smith and his
confederates didn't use any such method as shooting the gold into the
rocks. It's in too deep for that, and they could hardly hope to fool the
assayer that way. No, they must have some new scheme, and maybe I can
discover it."
The boys walked along briskly, and, almost before they realized it, they
saw that they were approaching the mine.
"Now, go easy," advised Dick. "We first want to see if there is anyone
in sight. If not, we'll take a trip down."
Near the mouth of the shaft was some machinery used to lift the bucket
from the mine. The boys could see the dull gleam of the coals under the
boiler of the hoisting apparatus, for the fire had been banked. But
there was no sign of anyone around, and, after peering cautiously about,
the boys reached the edge of the shaft.
"Now, if dey had an elevator fer us it would be dead easy," spoke Tim.
"But I don't see how youse is goin' to git down."
"Wait until I take a look," replied Dick.
He approached the mouth of the mine and uttered an exclamation that
brought the other boys to his side.
"There's a ladder leading down," he said. "We can use that. Now to
explore a gold mine."
Seeing that he had his candles and matches ready, Dick began to descend.
The other boys waited until he was down some distance and then followed.
The ladder, as they could see, was built against the side of the shaft,
and it was far enough away so that the ascending or descending bucket
did not touch it.
"Hold on!" cried Dick, from the dark depths. "I'm going to light a
candle."
Presently a faint gleam came up the shaft, and Tim and Frank could make
out Dick's form standing below them on a rung of the ladder. They also
lighted candles, and the descent continued. In about a minute Dick
called again:
"Easy now, fellows; I've struck bottom. Got down to the first level, I
guess."
In a little while Tim and Frank joined him. They found they were
standing in a sort of cave, hollowed out under ground. Resting at the
foot of the shaft was a big bucket, attached to the wire cable that
extended to the hoisting drum.
"Is dis all dere is to de mine?" asked Tim.
"No, there seems to be a gallery leading off to no one knows where,"
replied Dick, pointing to a gloomy hole. "Come on, boys, I haven't seen
any gold yet," and he waved his candle to and fro. It flickered over the
rocky walls of the mine. They glistened with water that oozed from many
crevices, but there was no glitter of the precious metal.
The boys walked cautiously along the gallery, or tunnel, that extended
at right angles to the perpendicular shaft. Suddenly, Dick, who was in
the lead, stopped short.
"Hush!" he exclaimed, in a whisper. "I hear voices."
The boys listened. From somewhere in the darkness ahead of them came an
indistinct murmur.
"Come ahead, easy!" whispered the millionaire's son.
They advanced on tiptoes. The murmur of voices became louder. Then, as
the boys made a turn in the tunnel, a strange scene was suddenly
presented to them.
In a sort of cave, formed by the widening of the gallery, a number of
men stood in a group. Several torches, stuck into cracks in the rocky
wall, gave light. But, strangest of all, was the occupation of the men.
One of them was stirring what seemed like a mass of mortar in a wooden
box, such as masons use. Into it another was pouring from a sack,
gleaming, golden, yellow particles, which, as the light gleamed on them,
glittered like gold.
"Seems like throwing the yellow stuff away," remarked the man who held
the sack.
"What of it. We'll get it back five times over," replied the one who,
with a hoe, was stirring the stuff. "It's like planting gold in a
garden. It grows, you know. This mine is our garden."
"They're 'salting' the mine," whispered Dick to his companions.
Off to one side another man was drilling holes in the soft rock. The
musical clink of his hammer on the drill sounded faint and far off, so
muffled was it.
"Haven't you got that stuff ready yet?" called the man with the drill.
"I've got all the holes bored. Hurry up and get it in or it won't be
hard by to-morrow, and there's no telling when that Hamilton kid may
take a notion to drop in and visit his mine," and he laughed.
"Oh, I guess I can keep him away for a few days yet," answered one, whom
Dick recognized as Forty-niner Smith. "I've got a game I haven't played.
But I guess this stuff is mixed enough. Say, it's the best scheme I've
struck yet for 'sweating' a mine. Beats the shotguns all to pieces."
From their hiding place the boys watched what the men did. The mixture
with the gold particles in it was poured into the holes the man had dug.
The boys could see now that it was not mortar, but concrete, which was
being used. To Dick the whole scheme was now plain.
The men poured a lot of gold dust into some concrete, and mixed it up
with water until it was about as thick as paste. Then they put it into
holes drilled in the rocky walls of the mine. The concrete hardened and
became almost like the rock itself. Then, when a blast was set off, the
rock, concrete and gold was all blown into small pieces, so that it
looked as if the ore was of good, gold-bearing quality, whereas it was
nothing but ordinary rock "salted."
That was how the men were working to fool investors. They had taken an
abandoned mine, from which all the gold had been dug, and, by this
ingenious method, made it look, to the ignorant, as though it was a
regular bonanza.
"Well," remarked Dick, in a whisper, "we've discovered the trick. I
guess dad's money and mine, too, is 'gone up the flume,' as the miners
say. But I'm glad----"
At that moment, Frank, who was balancing himself on a bit of rock, in
order to see better, stumbled and fell, making quite a noise. The men
turned as if a shot had been fired.
"What's that?" asked Smith, in a hoarse whisper.
"Some loose rock caving in," answered one of the men. "Come on, finish
up. We've only got one more hole to fill, and by that time Nash will be
ready to hoist us up."
"That wasn't falling rock!" declared Smith. "Boys, I believe someone is
spying on us. I'm going to take a look."
Seizing one of the torches he started toward where Dick and his
companions were hiding.
"Come on!" exclaimed the millionaire's son, pulling Tim and Frank by
the arm. "We've got to get out of this!"
They turned and ran, their footsteps echoing on the rocky floor of the
mine. They could hear Smith coming after them. His torch flashed around
the turn in the gallery. He caught sight of them.
"Stop!" he cried. "Stop or I'll shoot!"