Down the Slope

Joe was the first to give up, and as the pick fell from his nerveless hands he said faintly:

"It's all over, lads. We might as well pull the timber from Fred, and die at the same moment."

"Don't weaken, mate," Bill said, imploringly. "Who knows but we're within a few inches of the other drift."

"Even if that's true, the chances are we'll be stifled by the gas."

"The alarm may be given in time to save us from the entrance."

"Sam can't have come back yet, an' before any one knows what has happened we shall be dead."

Joe had lost all courage and the apathy of despair was upon him. His words robbed Fred of the last hope, and as it fled consciousness deserted him.

Bill delivered a few more feeble blows with the pick, and then he in turn sank to the ground.

The hand of death was very nearly upon them, and the agonies of dissolution already passed.

Within a few feet of where the unconscious men lay, willing hands were working at the obstruction. No more than three could labor at once, but these were relieved every two minutes, in order that their energy might not be impaired by weariness, and meanwhile others shoveled the slate and earth into cars, that the drift might be kept clear.

Mr. Wright personally assisted in the labor, and it was he who began the cheering which ensued when an aperture was made in the barrier.

"At it with a will, boys," he shouted, "but be careful about removing the timber, for some of the poor fellows may be beneath it."

The foul air rushing out nearly overcame the laborers, but the eager rescuers heeded not their own peril, and the moment finally came when the unconscious ones were fully exposed to view.

"Pass out the men, and then dig beneath the boy; he must be released in that manner, otherwise we may all share their fate," and Mr. Wright shoveled the earth carefully away from Fred, while the others carried Joe and Bill into the drift.

From his place of concealment on the hillside Skip Miller saw a party of men come out of the slope bearing an ominous looking burden.

"One of them is dead," he whispered to himself, as his face paled.

Then came another party, and a few seconds later the third, each carrying a similar load, marched down the road leading to the village.

The sight nearly overpowered Skip; he shook as if in an ague fit, and after staring at the sad spectacle until the men had passed from view, he turned and ran through the grove, believing the officers were close upon him.

The news that two miners and a boy had probably been killed spread through the village rapidly, and Cale Billings was in Taylor's groggery when one of the late rioters brought the intelligence.

"It's a wonder they don't accuse us of havin' somethin' to do with the accident," the newcomer added, and the proprietor said sternly:

"I don't want to drive customers away, but if any who come here have had a hand in murder, they'd better not show their heads 'round this place again."

Billings looked disturbed, but made no reply. Although having had no direct share in the crime, he knew he was really an accomplice, and the knowledge that Taylor might inform against him was by no means pleasant.

It was eight o'clock in the evening when Skip ventured to come down from the hillside, and he looked like a boy who had been very ill. Even at this late hour he did not dare to walk through the village, but skulked around the outskirts until he saw Chunky, whom he hailed in a whisper.

"Where have you been?" Fred's chute mate asked in surprise.

"I had some work on the other side of the hill."

"Have you been there all day?"

"Yes. Jest got back. Are those fellows dead!"

Ordinarily Chunky was not quick to arrive at conclusions, but now he asked in a suspicious tone:

"How did you know anything about it if you've jest got back?"

"Oh, I heard from some of the fellows."

"Who?"

"Never mind," and Skip spoke sharply.

"Did they all get killed?"

"None of 'em; but the doctor says Fred won't be over it for three or four days. Joe an' Bill are both in bed, though they'll be out in the morning."

"Does Wright know who did it?"

"Did what?"

"Why, knock – whatever was done."

"I thought the roof of a cuttin' fell in 'cause it wasn't shored up enough."

"I s'pose that was the reason," Skip replied in a nervous way.

"It seems to me you know more about this thing than anybody else."

"You'd better not say that again," and Skip stepped forward a few paces with clenched fists.

"You can get the best of me, so I'll have to hold my tongue; but I reckon I've had all I want of the regulators. Tryin' to kill a feller who never did much of anything to you is a mean trick."

"Shut up or I'll knock your head off. You can't back out of our s'ciety, an' if you ever say I tried to kill anybody I'll pound you till there won't be an inch of skin left."

Chunky did not wait to hear more. He started at full speed toward his own home, and Skip was more alarmed than before.

"Now I'm in a worse scrape than ever, for he's jest fool enough to tell what he knows, an' then there will be trouble. I'd better go to meet Billings, an' perhaps he can help me out."

He could reach the rendezvous without going through the village, and greatly to his relief the leader of the rioters was waiting to receive him.

"Now this is somethin' like business," and Billings patted the boy on the head.

Skip stepped back; the touch of the man's hand now, when through him he had gotten into so much trouble, was disagreeable.

"What am I to do?" he asked fiercely.

"Help me finish what you've begun."

"I won't do it. They'll have me arrested, an' you must get me through the scrape."

"So I will after I've served the company out. We'll go off somewhere together."

"And I'm to leave home?"

"There's nothin' for it if Wright gets the idea that you knocked the timber away."

"If he doesn't know it already there are them who will tell him. Chunky thinks I did somethin' to help the thing along."

"He does, eh?" and now Billings began to look disturbed. "Is he likely to go to any of the bosses?"

"He might tell some one else who would do it."

"That's true. What with him an' Taylor, things begin to seem kinder scarey for me."

"I'm in worse trouble."

"You're right, an' that shows we two must keep together."

"But I don't want to leave home."

"You can't help yourself. Once in the scrape, it's bad to back out."

Skip had good evidence that the way of the transgressor is hard. He felt a decided repugnance to becoming Billings' constant companion, but he dared not go home, and it seemed as if there was no other course left open.

"It won't do to stay here very long, for folks might see us, and it wouldn't be hard to guess we were up to mischief. Will you go with me, or take the chances of bein' arrested?"

"I'll have to do what you say," Skip replied with a groan, and Billings started straight across the hill toward the abandoned shaft.

"Where are you going?"

"We'll hide for a while. It ain't safe to loaf 'round here much longer. Here's a dollar. Go to Taylor's an' get somethin' to eat. Tell him I want cooked food, 'cause I'm bound on a tramp."

"I don't dare show up there."

"Move on, or I'll break every bone in your body! You've got to toe the mark now if you don't want to go to jail."

Billings used the tone of a master, and Skip understood that his crime had brought him to slavery of the most degrading kind.

The groggery was filled with men when he arrived, and in the number he found safety. All were excitedly discussing the accident, some intimating that Billings had a hand in it, and no one paid any particular attention to the frightened boy who crept cautiously in, as if to avoid being seen.

"Wants grub, eh?" Taylor asked, when Skip made known his errand. "What's he up to? Afraid they'll nab him for what was done to-day?"

"I don't know."

"Now, look here, Skip Miller, I ain't got any too much love for you, but it don't seem right to let a boy go on as you've begun. Go home now, an' leave Billings to take care of his own business."

"If I don't carry back the stuff he'll say I stole his money."

"Well, take the grub, an' then get back as soon as you know how."

"All right," Skip replied meekly.

"If you're not home in half an hour I'll see your father to-night."

"I wish I dared to go," Skip said to himself as he hurried away with the bundle. "Workin' in the breaker ain't a marker to what it'll be runnin' around with Cale Billings."

CHAPTER XIV

PRECAUTIONS

Not until two days had elapsed were the victims of the "accident" able to leave their rooms, and then they met Sam and Mr. Wright at Mrs. Byram's home.

"We'll be ready for work in the morning," Bill said in reply to the superintendent's inquiries. "What troubles me is that I've lost the plan of the old mine. It was in my blouse when the timber fell, an' – "

"How that joist could have got away without some one to help it is what worries me," Joe interrupted. "I set it, an' know the weight from above could not have any effect."

"There is no chance of foul play. The level has been guarded night and day, therefore, unless our trusted men are at fault, it was purely an accident."

"I'm not sayin' it wasn't; but yet the whole business looks queer," and with this remark Joe dismissed the subject from his mind.

Mr. Wright had come to learn when the guardians of the level would be ready to return to duty, and Bill's answer sufficed.

"The men who have been there during the past twenty-four hours shall be given other work in the morning, and once more I can rely on you. Thus far nothing suspicious has been seen or heard," he said, "and I begin to believe Billings has given up his thoughts of revenge. The only strange thing is that Miller's boy has disappeared, and his father can think of no reason why he should run away."

"Farley's won't be the loser if he never comes back," Joe replied. "That boy is a bad one, an' it wouldn't take much to make me believe he an' Billings are firm friends."

"There is no necessity of talking about him; we are not afraid of boys. The question is whether we are warranted in guarding the lower level much longer."

"That's for you to say, sir. We had rather be at our regular work."

"Well, we'll try it a day or two more. Perhaps you'd better break through into the old drift, and then we shall know whether it is possible for evil-disposed persons to find a hiding place there."

This closed the interview so far as Mr. Wright was concerned, and on his leaving the house the others discussed the work to be done the following day; but Skip Miller's disappearance had little place in the conversation.

Bill mourned the loss of the plan, which was supposed to be the only guide to the old mine, but Joe did not think it was of such very great importance.

"All we care to know is whether the air's foul, an', of course, the best way is to finish the tunnel which came so near finishin' us. That work can be done without any guide."

"But we may want to follow up the drift, which will be a long job if we have to go on blindly."

"There's no use fussin' over what can't be helped. The paper got trampled into the dirt, most likely, otherwise them as have been lookin' would 'a found it before this."

"I don't feel like givin' over the search so easy; s'pose we four have a reg'lar hunt in the morning?"

"Sam and I will go now," Fred said. "We shall feel better for a little exercise after being cooped up in the house so long."

"Very well. Take a turn at it this afternoon, an' if you don't succeed Joe an' I'll try to-night."

The boys set off without delay, but they were a long while reaching the slope, for every person on the street thought it necessary to congratulate them upon having escaped a terrible death, and at the breaker Donovan delayed the search by making minute inquiries as to the condition of affairs in the drift just prior to the accident.

"Any one would think from all these questions that you believed somebody was responsible for the trouble," Sam said with a laugh.

"P'rhaps I do. Billings an' Skip Miller disappeared on the same day, an' that looks suspicious to me, though Mr. Wright won't listen to anything of the kind."

"It's a big satisfaction to know they have left," Fred added, "and we have gotten rid of them cheaply. Do you know where they went?"

"Out of the village somewhere; Harvey saw them walking up the track."

"Then we can reckon that there'll be no more mischief done for a while. Come on, Fred, let's get down the slope."

The boys left the breaker without noticing that Chunky was trying to attract their attention, and were soon in the lower level making a systematic search.

Shoveling over the loose dirt along the track, they continued on until the cutting which had so nearly been a grave for Fred was passed, and then Sam said as he halted:

"It's no use to hunt here. It couldn't have got up this way."

"The draught may have carried it quite a distance."

"There isn't air enough stirrin' to move it a foot; but it won't do much harm to look."

They were nearly at the chamber where Sam was taken prisoner before Fred abandoned the hunt, and as he turned to retrace his steps both came to a sudden halt.

As if from beneath their feet arose a muffled cry of distress.

The boys looked at each other in alarm, and as they stood motionless the mysterious sound was repeated.

"What can it mean?" Fred asked in a whisper.

"That's more'n I can tell. There's no drift below this."

"That was surely a human being, and in trouble of some kind."

"Perhaps the cry comes from the end of the drift which has been closed."

"It sounds under the ground right here," and Fred stamped with his foot just as the noise was heard for the third time.

"There's no question about it's being a man. Come on; let's bring some of the miners to help find him."

The boys ran down the drift at full speed, and half an hour later returned with two of the miners.

"It was right here that we heard it," Sam said, as he pointed to the shovels they had left behind, in order to mark the spot.

The party listened intently, but no sound save their own breathing could be distinguished.

"I thought you'd been frightened about nothing," one of the miners said with a laugh. "You might as well tell us the mine was haunted as to give out such a yarn. I'll guarantee that nothin' larger'n a mouse could hide here."

"But we surely heard a cry," Fred insisted.

"And it seemed to come from beneath our feet."

"Nonsense. It's foolish to make such talk when we know the thing's impossible," and the men turned away as if angry at having been brought so far on a useless errand.

"We know whether – "

Sam ceased speaking very suddenly, for at that moment the sound of distress came with great distinctness.

The men looked around, each trying to hide his fear, and then a regular search was begun.

The noise could not have come from the old drift, and the level was examined thoroughly, but without success.

"It beats me," one of the miners said at length. "I'm sure there's nothing beneath here but the solid earth."

"Let the boys tell Wright," the other suggested, and his companion assented.

"We'll hang around here till he comes or you get back; but don't stay very long, for I don't like the looks of things."

"Why not?"

"It may be a warnin' for some of us. I've heard tell of such."

Fred laughed heartily, and the man replied impatiently:

"When you've been in a mine as long as I have, you won't think there's any fun to be made of warnin's. Before the explosion of fire damp in the old workings, I've been told the miners heard all kinds of queer noises."

"Go on," the second man said fretfully, "an' don't waste time chinnin' here when p'rhaps we oughter be gettin' out to save our lives."

The boys started, feeling a trifle disturbed because of the unexplainable cries, and arrived at the store as the whistle sounded for the night shift to begin work.

The superintendent was surprised by the information brought, and insisted, as had the miners, that the sounds could not have been made by a human being.

"I will go down the slope at once, however," he said, and the boys accompanied him on what proved to be a useless errand.

Every portion of the lower level was searched. A party descended the old shaft, traversing the abandoned passages to the chamber connecting with the new portion of the workings, but nowhere could be seen any signs of life.

Joe and Bill, alarmed because the boys had not returned, came to look for them in time to join the exploring parties, and the latter was decidedly uneasy when Mr. Wright ordered the useless labor to be stopped.

He, in common with several others, believed the mysterious noises to be warnings, and there was every evidence of a panic until Mr. Wright spoke at considerable length on the subject, intimating that the cries were due to natural causes.

Then those who were off duty went home, and among them were Joe, Bill, and their helpers.

These last discussed the subject without arriving at any definite conclusion when the time to separate arrived.

On the following morning work was resumed in the cutting. The loose earth having been cleared away, a reasonably solid roof was put up, and once more the tunneling operations were pushed forward vigorously.

All hands were on the alert for a repetition of the mysterious cries, but nothing was heard save the noise of the picks and shovels, with now and then a muffled crash as fragments of the vein were detached by blasts.

During the "nooning" lunch was eaten in the cutting, and while they were sitting quiet a singular vibration of the earth could be felt.

"It seems as if some one was digging directly beneath us," Fred said, when the little party ceased eating to gaze at each other in surprise.

"Most likely there's a line of slate just under our feet, an' brings the sound from the other drift," Joe replied promptly.

"That's about the size of it," Bill added; but the boys noticed that both the men listened from time to time as if in great perplexity.

The peculiar tapping continued without interruption, and before the time of rest had more than half expired Joe said, as he arose to his feet:

"Come on, lads. We're close to the old drift, an' after that's been opened we'll have another look around, for I want to find out what these queer noises mean."

Each one worked with the utmost rapidity, and when another hour had been spent Bill's pick broke through the barrier of earth.

"That ends the job, an' now to see how the air is."

The miner had hardly ceased speaking when a huge volume of gas burst through the aperture, nearly suffocating the party and extinguishing the lamps instantly.

"Jump to it lively, boys!" Joe cried hoarsely, as he began shoveling back the earth. "When you can't work any longer get a breath of fresh air in the drift."

There was every danger that the lower level might be so filled with the noxious vapor as to cause an explosion, and both men and boys labored manfully.

All were working blindly, but the general direction of the aperture was known, and the greater portion of the earth could be thrown with a fair degree of accuracy.

Ten minutes passed and the flow of foul air was partially checked. Twice had each person been forced to retreat to the main drift, and Fred was about to go for the third time when it seemed as if the flooring of dirt gave way beneath his feet.

Half suffocated by the gas, and overwhelmed by the falling fragments, he hardly realized what had occurred until finding himself in what was unmistakably another and yet lower tunnel or drift.

CHAPTER XV

A DISCOVERY

After the first alarm passed away, Fred understood that he had fallen but a few yards, and the earth which covered him represented only a very small portion of the upper tunnel's floor.

Scrambling to his feet he fancied for a moment that the sound of scurrying footsteps could be heard, and while listening, Joe said:

"Hello! Are you hurt?"

"Not a bit."

"Where are you?"

"It seems like a regular cutting, and the air is pure."

"Light your lamp an' look around."

Obeying this command, Fred found his suspicions correct, and so reported.

"Can you get back?"

"Not unless you pull me up."

"We'll attend to that in a minute."

The rush of air from below had so far checked the gas, now partially shut off, that the men could also light the lamps in their caps, and the remainder of the task was quickly accomplished.

With a couple of timbers as braces the aperture to the old mine was closed securely, and then the attention of the men was turned to the boy.

"Look out down there!" Bill shouted. "I'm goin' to drop a couple of joists so's we can come back."

"Let them go."

"Now drag 'em out of the way, an' we'll follow."

When this had been done the men and Sam descended, all completely mystified by this new discovery.

"Here's somethin' that I reckon Mr. Wright didn't know about," Bill said, as he surveyed the scene, and then he added with great emphasis as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Now we can come pretty nigh guessing what them noises meant. Some one has been tryin' to get into the other level, an' when a big hole was made Fred put an end to the work by fallin' through."

This could be told by the mound of earth a short distance away, as well as by the marks of a pick around the edges of the aperture; but further proof was found in the shape of a shovel which Sam stumbled over.

"This belongs to the company," he cried, pointing to the brand.

"Yes, an' a blind man can figger who's been here. Cale Billings didn't leave town as he tried to make folks believe."

"Then let's have him. This cuttin' can't be so long but that we'll get all over it before sunset," Joe cried, as he wrenched the shovel handle from the iron work to serve as a weapon.

"I thought I heard somebody running in that direction when I first fell," Fred said, pointing toward the quarter in which it was reasonable to suppose the old shaft might be found.

Joe led the way, the others following close behind until, when half a mile had been traversed, they arrived at two slopes or inclined tunnels, running at right angles from the level.

"It won't do to pass these," Bill cried. "We'll take one, while the boys search out the other."

He darted into the right-hand opening as he spoke; but returned before Joe could join him, saying:

"That was a false cutting. It only runs a dozen yards, an' there's nothin' in it. Sam, you an' Fred look into the other one while we keep on."

The idea of coming upon Cale Billings while they were unarmed was not a pleasant idea for the boys; but they would have braved considerably greater danger rather than show signs of fear, and both obeyed promptly.

This slope ran at an inclination of nearly forty-five degrees for about fifty yards when it turned sharply to the right, terminating in a small chamber where the vein had probably came to an end.

As Sam and Fred entered the place a figure darted from one corner and attempted to rush past them; but the flight was checked very suddenly.

"Why it's Skip Miller!" Sam cried, as he lowered his lamp that the rays might fall upon the prisoner's face.

"Yes, it's me," Skip said, piteously. "Please don't drag me off."

"How did you come here?"

"With Billings; he made me do jest what he said, an' I didn't dare to show up in town."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I knew Mr. Wright would have me 'rested on account of pretty nigh killin' you."

"What?" Fred cried, in surprise. "Then it wasn't an accident?"

Skip literally groveled on the ground in his fear. He understood now that his share in that business had not been known until he himself betrayed the fact.

"Don't lug me off," he screamed. "I'd have to go to jail."

"You wouldn't so long as we kept the thing a secret," Fred replied, with a feeling of mingled pity and contempt because of the abject terror displayed. "We must take you with us; but needn't tell about your villainy."