THE HAUNTED MINE.
Mr. Banta kept his word the next morning, for the day was just
beginning to break when he rolled out on the floor and gave the order
to "Catch up." All the miners were astir soon afterward; but there was
no joking or laughing going on in the camp, as there usually was. The
men went silently about their work of cooking breakfast, or sat
smoking their pipes in front of the fire, for their thoughts were busy
with that mine up in the mountains. Even the talkative Mr. Banta had
nothing to say. He seemed to have run short of stories, all on a
sudden.
"Say, Julian," remarked Jack, as they stood by the stream washing
their hands and faces, "why don't Banta talk to us the way he usually
does? I'll bet he is thinking about what is going to happen to us."
"I was just thinking that way myself," replied Julian. "But we have
gone too far to back out; we have got to go on."
"Of course we have. I wouldn't back out now for anything."
Breakfast was cooked and eaten, and the same silence prevailed; and
that same silence did more to shake the boys' courage than all that
had been said against their mine. Mr. Banta answered their questions
in monosyllables, and when he had satisfied his appetite he put the
dishes away unwashed and went out to catch his horse.
"Take hold of the bell-mare and lead her up the path," said he,
addressing the miners who were getting ready to accompany him. "We
have to take her and all the stock along, or the boys' pack-horse
won't budge an inch."
The miners were talkative enough now, when they saw the boys getting
ready to start on their journey. They crowded around them, and each
one shook them by the hand.
"Good-bye! kids," said one. "The next time I see you, you will be so
badly scared that you won't be able to tell what happened to you up
there; or, I sha'n't see you at all. I wish you all the good luck in
the world, but I know that will not amount to anything."
"Do you think they can whip all these men?" asked Jack, running his
eye over the miners, who were getting on their horses and making ready
to go with Mr. Banta.
"That ain't the thing; you won't see anybody; but the sounds you will
hear when you get fairly on the floor of that pit you will never want
to hear again."
The bell-mare was caught and led along the path, the stock all
followed after her, and the miners brought up the rear. Then Mr. Banta
opened his mouth and proceeded to talk all the way to the mine.
"You boys may come along here pretty sudden, some time, and if you
don't find Dutch Flat you will stray off into the mountains and get
lost; so I will just blaze the way for you."
As Mr. Banta spoke he seized a handful of the branches of an evergreen
and pulled them partly off, so that they just hung by the bark.
"Now, whenever you see that, you are on the right road," said he; "but
if you don't see it, you had better turn back and search for a blaze
until you find it."
For once the boys did not pay much attention to Mr. Banta's stories,
for their minds were fully occupied with their own thoughts. At
last--it did not seem to them that they had ridden a mile--the man
with the bell-mare sung out "Here we are!" and led the way into a
smooth, grassy plain which seemed out of place there in the mountains,
and to which there did not appear to be any outlet except the one by
which they had entered it. It was surrounded by the loftiest peaks on
all sides except one, and there the plain was bounded by a precipitous
ravine which was so deep that the bottom could not be seen from the
top. Near the middle of the plain was a little brook, placed most
conveniently for "washing" their finds, which bubbled merrily over the
stones before it plunged into the abyss before spoken of; and close on
the other side were the ruins of the mine--a strong windlass, which
had hauled up fifty thousand dollars' worth of gold--and the rope that
was fast to the bucket, or rather to the fragments of it, for the
bucket itself had fallen to pieces from the effects of the weather,
and lay in ruins on the ground. Still farther away stood the
lean-to--firmly built, of course, but not strong enough to stand the
fury of the winter's storms. Taken altogether, a miner could not have
selected a more fitting camp, or one better calculated to banish all
symptoms of homesickness while they were pulling out the gold from the
earth below. Mr. Banta kept a close watch on the boys, and saw the
pleased expression that came upon their faces.
"I know it looks splendid now, but it will not look so before long,"
said he, with a knowing shake of his head. "Now, boys, let us get to
work. We want to get through here, so as to get back to Dutch Flat
to-night."
The miners unsaddled their horses, grabbed their axes and spades, and
set in manfully to make the "mine all right," so that the boys could
go to work at it without delay. Some repaired the lean-to, others
laboriously cleared the mouth of the pit from the grass and brush
which had accumulated there, and still another brought from the boys'
pack the new bucket and rope which they expected would last just about
long enough for one of them to go down and up--and they were positive
that the boy would come up a great deal faster than he went down. The
boys did not find anything to do but to get dinner, and they were
rather proud of the skill with which the viands were served up.
"I didn't know you boys could do cooking like this," said Mr. Banta,
as he seated himself on the grass and looked over the table--a blanket
spread out to serve in lieu of a cloth. "If the cooking was all you
had to contend with you could live like fighting-cocks as long as you
stay here."
"We had hardly enough money to pay for a housekeeper while we were in
St. Louis, and so we had all this work to do ourselves," said Julian.
"You must give Jack the credit for this. We kept bachelor's hall while
we were at home. He cooked, and I swept out and helped wash the
dishes."
"Now, boys," said Mr. Banta, after he had finished his pipe, "I guess
we have Julian and Jack all ready to go to work whenever they feel
like it. Look over your work, and see if there is anything you have
missed, and then we will go back to Dutch Flat. I tell you, I hate to
leave you up here in this sort of a way."
"You need not be," said Jack. "If you will come up here in two weeks
from now, we will have some gold-dust to show you."
Mr. Banta did not say anything discouraging, for he had already
exhausted all his powers in that direction. He inspected all the work,
to satisfy himself that it was properly done, and then gave the order
to "catch up."
"Of course your stock will go back with us," said he. "You could not
keep them here away from that old bell-mare."
"That was what we expected," said Julian; "we may be so badly
frightened that we won't think to bring our weapons with us."
"I am not afraid to say that I'll risk that," said Mr. Banta, leaning
over to shake Julian by the hand. He told himself that the miner's
heart was in that shake. It was very different from the clasp of the
hand that he gave him when he was first introduced to him in Denver.
"Good-bye, Julian. That is all I can say to you."
The other miners rode up to take leave of them, and all looked very
solemn. Some had a parting word to say, and some shook them by the
hand without saying anything, the man with the bell-mare led off, the
stock followed, the miners came last, and in two minutes more they
were alone. Julian sat down on the grass feeling lonely indeed, but
Jack jumped up and began to bestir himself.
"Come on, boy--none of that!" said he, beginning to gather their few
dishes together. "We must get these things out of the way and I must
get ready to go into that mine."
"Are you going down to-day?" asked Julian. The time had come at last.
For long months Julian had talked about going down into that mine--not
boastingly, to be sure, but he had said enough to make people believe
he would not back out, and now the opportunity was presented for him
to do as he had agreed. "Why can't you let it go until to-morrow?"
"Because I am just ready to go now," said Jack; and there was a
determined look on his face which Julian had never seen there before.
"I am fighting mad, now, and to-morrow I may be as down-hearted as you
are."
"Do you think I am afraid?" exclaimed Julian, springing up and
beginning to assist his chum. "I'll show you that I am not! If you
want to go first you can go, and I will go the next time."
Julian went to work with a determination to get the dishes done as
soon as possible. When they had got them all stowed away where they
belonged, Jack stopped to roll up his sleeves, examined his revolver,
which he strapped to his waist, lighted his lamp, and led the way
toward the mine without saying a word. Julian gave a hasty glance at
him and saw that his face was as calm as it usually was, and he began
to take courage from that.
"It looks dark down there, does it not?" asked Julian, leaning on the
windlass and peering down into the pit.
"It is dark enough now, but it will be lighter when I get down there
with my lamp," replied Jack. "Now, Julian, are you sure you can hold
me up?"
"Of course I can. If I can't, we had better get another man up here."
Jack stopped just long enough to shake Julian by the hand, then seized
the rope and stepped into the bucket, his partner holding the windlass
so that he would not descend too rapidly. Slowly he went down, until
finally the bucket stopped.
"All right!" called Jack; and his voice sounded strangely, coming up
from thirty feet underground. "This hole is bigger down here than it
is at the top. Somebody has cut away on each side to try to find
gold," and at last he started off toward the gully.
Julian leaned over the pit and followed his companion's movements by
the light of his lamp. He saw him as he went around to the "false
diggings," and finally his lamp disappeared from view as Jack went
down toward the ravine. His face was very pale; he listened intently,
but could not hear that rustling of feet nor that moaning sound that
had frightened two men away from there, and his courage all came back
to him.
"I wonder what those men were thinking of when they started that story
about this mine being haunted?" Julian muttered to himself. "There is
nothing here to trouble anyone."
Hardly had this thought been framed in Julian's mind than there came a
most startling and thrilling interruption. The boy was leaning over
the pit with his head turned on one side, so that he could hear any
unusual sounds going on below, and all of a sudden he sprang to his
feet and acted very much as though he wanted to go below to Jack's
assistance. He distinctly heard that rustling of feet over the rocks
below, some of them made by Jack as he ran toward the bucket, and the
other by something else that made Julian's heart stand still. And with
that sound came others--moans or shrieks, Julian couldn't tell
which--until they seemed to fill the pit all around him. This lasted
but a few seconds, and then came the report of Jack's revolver and the
sound was caught up by the echoes until it appeared to Julian that a
whole battery of artillery had been fired at once.
"There!" said Julian, greatly relieved to know that Jack had seen
something to shoot at. "I guess one ghost has got his death at last!"
A moment afterward came Jack's frantic pull on the rope, accompanied
by his frightened voice--
"Pull me up, Julian! For goodness' sake, pull me up!"
Julian jumped for the windlass and put every atom of his strength into
it. At first the resistance of the bucket was just about what it would
have been if Jack had stepped into it; but suddenly the resistance
ceased, the crank was jerked out of his hand, and Julian was thrown
headlong to the ground.
"What was that?" exclaimed the boy, regaining his feet as quickly as
he could. "Jack, did you fall out of the bucket?"
There was no response to his question. He leaned over and looked into
the pit; but Jack's light had gone out, and everything was silent
below. The rustling of feet had ceased, the moans had died away, and
the mine was as still as the grave.
"Something has happened to Jack!" exclaimed Julian, running to his
lean-to after his revolver and lamp. "I am going down there to see
about it if all the ghosts in the Rocky Mountains should be there to
stop me!"
Julian worked frantically, and in less time than it takes to tell it
he was ready to go down to Jack's help. He hastily unwound the rope
until all the length was out except the extreme end, which was
fastened to the windlass by a couple of staples, and swung himself
into the mine. He went down much faster than Jack did, and when he
reached the bottom he let go his hold on the rope, and, holding his
revolver in readiness for a shot, he turned slowly about, as if he
were expecting that whatever had frightened Jack would be upon him
before he could think twice. But nothing came. In whatever direction
he turned his light, everything seemed concealed by Egyptian darkness,
and finally he resolved to let the ghosts go and turned his attention
to Jack. There he lay, close to Julian's feet, his lamp extinguished
and his revolver at a little distance from him; and it was plain that
he was either frightened or dead, for Julian had never seen so white a
face before. His own face, if he only knew it, was utterly devoid of
color, and his hands trembled so that he could scarcely use them.
"I would like to know what it was that could make Jack faint away in
this fashion," muttered Julian, first looking all around to make sure
that nothing had come in sight before he laid his revolver down. "How
to get him into that bucket, and the bail over him, is what bothers me
just now; but he must go in, and get out of this."
Jack was a heavyweight, and if any boy who reads this has ever been
called upon to handle a playmate who remained limp and motionless in
his arms he will know what a task Julian had to put him into the
bucket. And remember that he must go inside the bail, otherwise he
could not pull him out; and the bail would not stay up without
somebody to hold it. But Julian worked away as only a boy can under
such circumstances, and was just getting him in shape, so that in a
moment more he would have had him in, when he noticed that one of his
hands was wet. He stopped for a moment to look at it, and at the sight
of it he seemed ready to sit down beside Jack and faint away, too.
"It is blood!" murmured Julian. "My goodness! you must get out of
here, and be quick about it! What was that?"
Julian straightened up again, but he had his revolver in his hand.
That moaning sound was repeated again, but the boy could not tell
where it came from. It was not so great in volume as the first one
that had saluted Jack, but it was a complaining kind of a sound, such
as one might utter who was being deserted by the only friend he had
upon earth. Julian stood there with his revolver in his hand, but,
aside from the sound which rung in his ears for many a night
afterward, his eyes could not reveal a single thing for him to shoot
at. Julian thought now that he had got at the bottom of the mystery.
Hastily slipping his revolver into his belt, he turned his attention
to Jack, and in a few moments had him ready to hoist to the top. Then
he seized the rope, and, climbing it hand over hand, he reached the
surface, when, throwing off his hat and revolver, he turned around to
haul up Jack.