AT THE ESMERALDA MINE.
"If only I was certain that my boy and his friends were safe, Geisler,
I wouldn't feel so much anxiety."
Mr. Merrill, an anxious look on his face, paced up and down the floor
of the office of the Esmeralda Mine. It was the morning of the day
following the dash for safety in Buck Bradley's car, and the mine owner
and his superintendent had been in anxious consultation since
breakfast. In truth, they had enough to worry them. In the specie
room of the mine was stored more than $20,000 worth of dust, the
product of the big stamp mill.
From what they had been able to ascertain, the insurrectos were
unusually active in the neighborhood. Open warning had been sent to
the American mine owners, including Mr. Merrill, to be prepared to
yield up generously and freely, or have their property destroyed. In
addition to this worry, the mine owner and his superintendent, together
with the three young "level bosses," had been practically cut off from
communication with the outside world for the past twenty-four hours.
A branch of the Chihuahua Northern tapped the mine, but no train had
puffed its way up the steep grade for more than three days, and it was
useless to try to use the wires, as they had been put out of commission
almost at the beginning of the trouble in the province.
"If I had ever dreamed the trouble would assume such serious
proportions, the last thing I would have done would have been to allow
the professor or his young charges to journey to the Haunted Mesa,"
continued the mine owner.
Geisler, a rotund German, with a wealth of flaxen hair and moustache,
puffed at his china-bowled pipe before replying.
"Dese Megxicans is der teufel ven dey get started, ain'd idt?" he
remarked. "For a veek, now, dere has not been a tap of vork done py
der mine, und nodt a sign uv der rabblescallions uv loafers vot vos
employed deere."
"That is a lesson to me in employing Mexican labor," declared Mr.
Merrill emphatically. "If it isn't a saint's day carousal, it's a
revolution, and if it isn't a revolution, it's a bad attack of aversion
to work. I tell you, Geisler, the folks who are sympathizing with
these insurrectos don't know the people or the country."
"Dot is righd," rejoined Geisler, expelling a cloud of blue smoke. "De
country iss all righd, but der peoples--ach!"
He spread his hands, as if in despair. As he did so, the door of the
wooden building opened, giving a glimpse of the empty, idle shaft-mouth
beyond, and a young man of about twenty-two or so entered.
He was a mining student, employed as a level boss by Mr. Merrill. His
employer looked up as he entered.
"Well, Markley, any news?"
"Why, sir, that arrant rascal, Pedro, just rode by. I asked him if he
couldn't get the men back to work on Number Two, and he wouldn't hear
of it. He says that the insurrectos are going to wipe out all the
American mines, and drive the gringoes out of the country."
"Oh, they are, are they?" questioned Mr. Merrill, a grim look
overspreading his face. "Just let them try it on the Esmeralda, that's
all."
"You mean that you would oppose them, sir?"
"Oppose them! Holy smoke, man, you don't think I'd sit here with my
hands folded and let a lot of rascally mestizos wreck my property, do
you?"
"I should remarg idt not," puffed Herr Geisler.
"But, sir, there are only five of us here. How long do you suppose we
could stick it out?"
"Till der lastd oldt cat be dead, py chiminy!" exploded the German.
"Herr Merrill, you are all righd. Young man, are you afraidt?"
"No," protested young Markley indignantly, "but----"
"Budt what, eh? Answer me dot, blease. Budt vot?"
The belligerent German advanced till his pudgy forefinger was shaking
under Markley's aristocratic nose.
"Well, they say, you know, that Madero isn't very gentle to his
prisoners, especially when they happen to be gringoes."
"There, there, Markley," said Mr. Merrill, with a tinge of impatience,
"don't repeat all the old gossips' tales about Madero. Why, if one
believed half of them, he would be endowed with hoofs and horns, not to
mention a tail with a spike on the end. If either you or Redman or
Jennings wishes to leave the mine, you may. I'll write you a check for
the amount I owe you now."
"Well, you see, sir," began Markley, but Geisler interrupted him
furiously.
"Ach Himmel! Vot are you, a man or a Strassbourg pie? Donnervetter!
Go! Raus! gedt oudt! Vamoose!"
"Sir," began Markley, turning to Mr. Merrill from this furious storm of
abuse.
But his employer had taken out his check-book and fountain pen, and
seemed intent upon making out the pink slips. Markley, baffled, turned
with a red face toward Geisler.
"It's all right for you to talk," he said in an aggrieved tone, "but we
are all young fellows. We have our careers in front of us. We want to
make something of ourselves----"
"Ach!" broke out the German explosively, waving his pipe about angrily,
"make deaders of yourselfs. Dot is vot you shouldt do. Go on. Dere
are your pay checks. Take dem, und gedt oudt."
Glad enough to escape, Markley hastily thanked his employer, and,
snatching up the pink slips, made for the door. Outside, Redman and
Jennings were waiting.
"Come on," said Jennings, as Markley waved the checks, "let's get out
of here. Old Madero may be along at any minute, and they say he hangs
you up by the thumbs, and----"
Their voices died out, as they hurried off to pack their belongings,
after which they made off for the nearest town, some ten miles away to
the southeast.
"Veil," began the explosive Teuton, as their voices died away, "dere
iss dree vine specimens--nodt by no means."
"You can hardly blame them for looking out for their own interests,"
rejoined Mr. Merrill. "It isn't everybody who, like you, would stick
by his employer at the risk of his neck."
"You is more dan my employer, py chiminy, you voss mein friendt,"
exclaimed Geisler. "I aindt forgot it dot time dat no vun vouldt gif
me a chob pecos dey dink I been vun pig vool. Vot didt you do, den?
You proved yourself anudder fooll py gifing me a chob. Dink you, den,
I run from dis, my dearie-o? Oh, not by a Vestphalia ham! Here I am,
und here I shtay shtuck, py chiminy!"
The mine owner gave his faithful super a grateful look, and then
snatched up his soft hat with a brisk movement.
"Come, Geisler," he said, "let us take a look around. Possibly, in the
event of an attack, there may be one or two places that will need
strengthening."
"Ach, Himmel! vot a mans," muttered the German to himself, as he
followed his employer out. "I vork for him, und, py chiminy grickets,
I vight for him too, alretty."
The stamp mill and main buildings of the mine, including the boiler and
engine room, were surrounded by a stout fence of one-inch planking,
perhaps ten feet in height. Frequent strikes and minor outbreaks among
the Mexican miners had persuaded Mr. Merrill to follow the example of
most of his fellow American mine owners in Mexico, and be prepared for
emergencies. Facing toward the west, was a large gate in this
"stockade," as it might almost be called. Surmounting this, was the
bell, idle now, with which the miners were summoned to work. From the
gate, which was swung open as Markley and his cronies had left it in
their retreat, could be seen a huddle of small adobe houses--the homes
of the laborers--and beyond these, and deeper in the valley, lay the
red-tiled roofs and green gardens of Santa Marta, the nearest town.
Men could be seen moving about the laborers' huts--in fact, there was
an air almost of expectant bustle about the place. Shielding his eyes,
Mr. Merrill gazed down toward the little town. His keen vision had
caught the glint of a firearm of some sort between the legs of a man
seated outside one of the huts.
"These chaps must have advance information of some sort," he remarked
to Geisler. "That fellow yonder is cleaning up a rifle."
"Looks like it voss business alretty," remarked Geisler. "Himmel, I
vould gif vun dollar und ninety-eight cents, alretty, to see a troop of
regulars coming up der railroad tracks."
But the tracks lay empty and shining before them, without even a
freight car backed upon a siding to suggest the activity that, at this
time of the week, usually reigned about the mine.
"There isn't a regiment nearer than Rosario, at last reports," rejoined
Mr. Merrill, "and no way of reaching them, now that the wires are cut.
If only I dared leave the place, I'd ride to Rosario, but the instant
we vacated it, those yellow jackals down yonder would come swarming in."
"Dot is right," agreed Geisler, with a frown, "dey know, vorse luck,
aboudt der amount of goldt vot is stored in der strong room. I bet you
your life, dey iss yust votching for a chance to make idt a addack py
der mine."
"That's my idea, too, Geisler, and---- Hullo, who's this coming?"