A GRUESOME FIND
When Allan opened his eyes, it was to find the kindly face of Mary Welsh
looking down at him.
"Is it time to get up?" he asked, and tried to rise, but Mary pressed him
gently back against the pillow.
"There, there, lay still," she said.
"But what," he began--and then a sudden twinge in the side brought back
in a flash all that had occurred. "Am I hurt?" he asked.
"Not bad, th' doctor says; but you'll have t' kape quiet fer awhile.
They's two ribs broke."
"Two ribs!" repeated Allan.
"Right there in yer side," said Mary, indicating the place.
"Oh, yes; that's where Dan Nolan kicked me."
"Where what?" cried Mary, her eyes flashing.
And Allan related in detail the story of his encounter with Nolan.
Before he had finished, Mary was pacing up and down the chamber like a
caged tigress, her hands clasping and unclasping, her features working
convulsively. Allan, in the carefully darkened room, did not notice her
agitation, and continued on to the end.
"You lay still," she said, hoarsely, when he had ended; "I'll be back in
a minute," and she hurried down the stair.
Once out of his sight, her self-control gave way completely; a dry
sobbing shook her, a sobbing not of grief but of sheer fury. Jack was
sitting listlessly by the window when she burst into the room.
"Why, what is it, Mary?" he cried, starting to his feet. "Is he worse? He
can't be! Th' doctor said--"
"Jack," said Mary, planting herself before her husband, "I want you t'
promise me one thing. If you iver git yer hands on Dan Nolan, kill him as
you would a snake!"
"What's Nolan been doin' now?" he asked, staring in astonishment at her
working features.
"It was him hurt our boy," she said; "kicked him in th' side as he laid
tied there on th' floor. Stood over him an' kicked him in th' side!"
Jack's face was livid, and his eyes suffused.
"Are you sure o' that?" he asked thickly.
"Allan told me."
"Th' fiend!" cried Jack. "Th' divil!" and shook his fists in the air.
Then he sat heavily down in his chair, shivering convulsively.
"An' more'n that," Mary went on, "he shut th' boy in th' station an'
left him there t' burn," and she repeated the story Allan had just told
her.
When she had done, Jack rose unsteadily.
"You say th' boy's all right?" he asked.
"Yes--he ain't got a bit o' fever."
"Then I'm goin' t' Coalville," he said. "I couldn't sleep with th'
thought of that varmint runnin' loose. I'm goin' t' git him."
Mary's eyes were blazing.
"Good boy!" she cried. "When'll you go?"
"Now," he answered. "I kin jest ketch Number Four. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, Jack," she answered, and caught him suddenly in her arms and
kissed him.
She watched him as he went down the path, then turned, and composing her
face as well as she was able, mounted the stair and took up again her
station by Allan's bed.
* * * * *
Half an hour after Jack had got off the train at Coalville, he entered
the office of the Coalville Coal Company.
"I want a gun," were his first words.
"What for?" inquired the man at the desk.
"T' look fer th' robbers."
The man gazed at him thoughtfully. There was something in Jack's
appearance, a certain wildness, which alarmed him a little.
"I don't believe we care to employ any more deputies," he said at last.
"I don't want t' be employed--I don't want no wages--I'm a volunteer."
At that moment, the door opened and a man came in,--a tall, thin man,
whose head was bandaged and the skin of whose face was peeling off.
"Here, Jed," said the man at the desk, glad to turn the task of dealing
with a probable madman into more competent hands, "is a recruit. And,
strangely enough, he doesn't ask for pay."
"It ain't a bit strange," protested Jack, and he explained briefly who he
was.
When he had finished, Jed held out his hand.
"Shake," he said. "That kid o' your'n is all right--grit clear through.
Will he git well?"
"Oh, he'll git well, all right."
"Good!" cried Jed, his face brightening. "I've been worryin' about him
considerable. How'd he git his ribs broke?"
"One o' them fellers kicked him in th' side," explained Jack, and
repeated the story he had heard from Mary.
"Th' skunk!" said Jed, when he had finished, his face very dark. "Th'
low-down skunk! I only wish I could git my hands on him fer about two
minutes."
"So do I," agreed Jack, his lips quivering. "That's why I came."
Jed held out his hand again.
"I'm with you!" he said. "We'll go on a little still-hunt of our own.
I'd intended t' go by myself, but I'll be glad to hev you along."
So Jack, provided with rifle and revolver, presently sallied forth beside
his new friend.
"No trace o' them yet?" he asked.
"Not a trace," Jed answered. "It beats me. But one thing I'm sure
of--it's possible that they managed t' slip through my lines, but they
didn't take th' chest with 'em."
"Then what did they do with it?"
"That's what I'm a-goin' t' find out," said Jed, grimly. "It's somewhere
here in these hills, an' I'm goin' t' find it if it takes ten years."
And, indeed, after the first day's search, it seemed to Jack that it
might easily take much longer than that.
"There's one thing they might 'a' done with it," Jed remarked, as they
turned homeward in the twilight. "They might 'a' shoved it up in some of
th' old workin's around here. They're full o' fire-damp, o' course, an'
no man could venture in them an' live, so I don't see jest how they'd
work it. But to-morrer we'll take a look at 'em."
So the next morning they set out, carrying, instead of rifles, a
collection of ropes, candles, and lanterns, which Jed had procured from
the mine.
"I've got a plan of th' old workin's, too," he said. "There's some over
on th' other side of th' hill which it ain't any use wastin' time on.
Them fellers couldn't 'a' carried that chest over th' ridge, if they'd
tried a month. But there's six or eight on this side. There's th' fust
one, over yonder," and he pointed to a black hole in the hillside. "All
of these old workin's," he went on, "are what they call drifts--that is,
wherever they found th' coal croppin' out, they started in a tunnel, an'
kept on goin' in till th' vein pinched out. Then they stopped and started
another tunnel on th' next outcrop. They're all driven in on an incline,
so they'll drain theirselves, an' as soon as th' company stopped pumpin'
air into them, they probably filled up with gas, so we've got t' be
mighty careful."
He clambered up to the mouth of the tunnel and peered into it cautiously.
"Can't see nothin'," he said. "Let's try fer gas."
He took from his pocket a leather bag, from which he extracted a little
ball of cotton saturated in oil.
"Stand aside," he said, and himself stood at one side of the mouth of the
tunnel. Then, grasping the ball by a piece of wire attached to it, he
struck a match, touched it to the cotton, and then hurled the ball with
all his force into the opening.
It seemed to Jack that there was a sort of quick throb in the air, a
sheet of flame shot out of the tunnel mouth, and an instant later a dull
rumbling came from within the hill.
Jed caught up a lantern, snapped back the covering of wire gauze which
protected the wick, and lighted it.
"Come on," he said. "It's safe for awhile now," and he led the way into
the cavern.
For a moment Jack could see nothing; then as his eyes grew accustomed to
the gloom, he discerned the black and dripping walls on either hand, and
the dark void before, into which Jed walked, swinging the lantern from
side to side.
But he did not go far. Fifty feet from the entrance, a pile of debris
blocked the way. Jed swung his lantern over it and inspected it.
"No use t' look any further in here," he said. "This stuff's been down a
long time. Let's go on to number two."
The second tunnel was about five hundred feet from the first one, and
resembled it exactly. But when Jed threw into it his blazing ball, there
was no explosion.
"Hello!" he said, in surprise, and then, bending down, he saw the ball
blazing brightly on the floor of the tunnel, some distance from the
entrance. "Why, that hole is ventilated as well as a house!" he added.
"Plenty of air there," and catching up the lantern, which he had not
extinguished, he started into the tunnel.
The air was fresh and pure, and Jed, looking about for an explanation,
was not long in finding it.
"Look up there," he said, pointing to where a glimmer of light showed
through the gloom above. "There's a flue up there--an accident, most
likely,--just a crack in the rock,--but it lets the gas out all right.
Why, a feller could live in here--By George!" he added, "some feller has
been livin' here. Look there."
Jack followed the motion of his finger, and saw, on the floor, a pile
of half-burned coal. Over it was a bent piece of iron which had been
driven into the floor and evidently served as a crane. A pot and a couple
of pans lay near the base of one of the pillars which had been left to
support the roof.
"And they was more than one," Jed continued, and pointed to four lumps
of coal grouped around the central pile. "They used them to set on. It's
dollars to doughnuts here's where th' gang stayed till they was ready t'
spring their trap. Th' question is, are they here yet?"
"You kin bet your life they ain't," answered Jack, confidently.
"'Cause why?"
"'Cause we're here t' tell th' tale. If they was here, they'd 'a' picked
us off ten minutes ago. Think what purty marks we made."
"Mebbe they thought they was a posse with us."
"Well, they don't think so now, an' they ain't shot us yet."
Jed nodded and moved forward.
"Well, if they ain't here, mebbe th' chest is," he said, but they saw no
sign of it, although they explored the chamber thoroughly. "They could
'a' reached here with it easy enough," he went on. "Th' road's jest down
there, an' th' station ain't over half a mile away. Nobody thought o'
their gittin' out so clost to th' station. That's th' reason I didn't
find their tracks. They drove th' wagon on nearly six mile afore they
turned it loose. Steady, steady," he added, suddenly, and stopped.
At his feet yawned a pit of unknown depth. He swung his lantern over it
and peered down, trying to see the bottom. Then he stood upright with a
sharp exclamation.
"It's down there," he said.
"What is?"
"The chest. Look over. Don't you see it?"
"I kin see something," answered Jack, "but it might be a lump o' coal, or
any old thing. What makes you think it's th' chest?"
"I _know_ it is," Jed asserted. "You wait here till I git th' ropes," and
he hurried away toward the mouth of the tunnel.
Jack, holding the lantern at arm's length and shading his eyes with his
other hand, leaned over the pit and stared down long and earnestly. But
strain his eyes as he might, he could discern no details of the oblong
mass below. That it should be the chest seemed too great a miracle.
But Jed was back in a moment, a coil of rope in his hand.
"Now I'll show you," he said, and laying down the rope, took from his
pocket another of the oil-saturated balls, lighted it and dropped it into
the pit.
It struck the bottom and sputtered for a moment, then burned clear and
bright.
And the two men gazed fascinated at what it revealed to them.
The chest was there, as Jed had said; and beneath it, crushed against the
rock, lay a man.