Derrick Sterling: A Story of the Mines

From the foot of the slope Derrick set off for the stable to get Harry Mule, while Paul waited for the making up of a train of empty cars, in which he was to ride to the junction near the blacksmith's shop. There Derrick was to meet him, take him to his post of duty, and tell him about opening and closing the door, and tending the switch of which he was to have charge.

In spite of the fact that he and Derrick had been friends but a single day, Harry Mule appeared to recognize his young driver, and gave him a cordial greeting as he entered the stable. At least he threw up his head and uttered a tremendous bray, which went "Haw! he-haw, he-haw, he-haw!" and sounded so absurdly like a laugh that Derrick laughed from sympathy until the tears ran down his cheeks. The mule gazed at him with a look of wonder in his big eyes, and stood so meek and quiet while his harness was being put on that Derrick thought perhaps his feelings had been hurt. To soothe them he talked to him, and told him that Paul had come down into the mine to work.

As they left the stable, and Derrick stopped to fasten the door, Harry started in the opposite direction from that in which he should have gone, and ran down the gangway, kicking up his heels and braying, as though he were a frisky young colt in a pasture instead of an old bumping-mule down in a coal-mine. Derrick ran after him, and for some time could see the reflection of the collar-lamp, which was swung violently to and fro by the animal's rapid motion. The disappearance of this light in the distance was followed by an angry shouting and a muffled crash.

Derrick was provoked that his mule should have made all this trouble, and was anxious to discover the full extent of the mischief done, but he could not help laughing when he reached the scene of confusion. The first object he saw was Harry himself, standing still and gazing demurely at him with the wondering look which was his most common expression. He was hitched in front of a string of mules which were attached to a train of empty cars, and was evidently prepared to act as their leader. The boy driver of these mules, with many muttered exclamations, was trying to disentangle their harness from the snarl it had got into, and in one of the cars stood Paul Evert, looking somewhat dilapidated and greatly disgusted.

"Hullo, Derrick!" he called out. "Where did that mule come from?"

"Why, that's Harry, my bumping-mule," answered Derrick as he came up laughing.

"Bumping-mule! I should think he was," said Paul. "He made these cars stop so quick that I was almost bumped out of 'em, and the skin's all knocked off my nose. I don't see what he wanted to come bumping along this way for."

"Why, I told him you were coming," said Derrick, "and I suppose he wanted to welcome you to the mine."

"Well, I'm sorry you told him, and—"

Just then the driver shouted "Gee up!" and Harry Mule, anxious to do his duty in his new position, started ahead so briskly as to pull the other three mules promptly into line and give a violent jerk to the cars. Losing his balance with this unexpected motion, Paul sat suddenly down in the bottom of the car he was in, and there he wisely decided to remain.

When they reached the junction, Derrick asked Paul to wait for him until he and Harry Mule had distributed the empty cars to their several destinations. Attracted by its cheerful light, Paul stepped inside the blacksmith's shop, where Job Taskar, who was hammering away as busily as usual, glanced up as he entered, but paid no further attention to him. A minute later the smith, who had just begun his day's work, and still wore his coat, pulled it off and flung it to one side. Something dropped from one of its pockets unnoticed by him as he did so, and Paul was on the point of calling his attention to it. He did not, however, because the smith's helper, a slim, dreary-looking young man, to whom nobody ever paid much attention, also noticed the falling object, and picked it up without being seen by Job. Gazing at it curiously for a moment, he restored it, as Paul thought, to the pocket from which it had fallen. In reality, he slipped it into a pocket of his own coat which lay under that of his boss.

Derrick now came back, and with him Paul went to the door that he was to tend. Just inside of it, on a platform laid above the ditch of black, rapidly flowing water, stood a rude arm-chair made out of rough boards. Above it hung a board full of holes into which several pegs were thrust. Derrick told Paul that with these pegs he must keep tally of the number of loaded cars that passed this station, and that he must always be ready to answer promptly the call of "Door." Within reach from the chair was a lever by means of which the switch was moved. Paul was told that after each door call there would come another explaining on which track the approaching cars were to go, and that he must listen carefully for it and set the switch accordingly. After showing him the large oil-can from which he might refill his lamp, Derrick bade him good-by and returned to his own work.

This morning passed much more pleasantly to the young mule-driver than the first one had. Not only did Tom Evert greet him cordially, and thank him for what he had done for Paul, but Monk Tooley gave him a gruff "Mornin', lad," and most of the other men spoke pleasantly to him, as though to atone in a measure for his previous suffering. Above all, he occasionally had to pass Paul's station, and the mere sight of his faithful friend leaning on his crutch and holding open the door was a source of joy.

As Paul had much spare time on his hands, he occupied it in becoming acquainted with his surroundings, and was especially interested in the curious markings on the black slate walls of the gangway near his door. Many of these were in the form of exquisite ferns, others of curious leaves such as he had never seen, quaint patterns like the scales and bones of queer fishes, or the ripplings of water on a smooth beach. In one place he found tiny tracks, as though a small bird had run quickly across it, and had stamped the imprint of its feet on the hard surface.

It was Paul's first lesson in geology, and it gave him his first idea that this hard slate, and the veins of coal enclosed between its solid walls, might have had a previous existence in another form. He pondered upon the length of time that must have passed since those ferns grew, and since that running bird made those footprints, and finally concluded to ask Derrick if he knew.

At noon, after Harry Mule had been sent jingling to his stable, Derrick rejoined his friend, and they ate lunch together. As they talked of the strange markings on the walls, and Derrick confessed that he knew no more concerning their age than Paul, the latter suddenly paused, and with a slight gesture directed attention to something in the roadway.

Looking in the direction indicated, Derrick saw, sitting bolt-upright on its hind-legs, and gazing steadily at them, an immense rat. He was quite gray, and evidently very old; nor did he seem to be in the least bit afraid of them.

"Doesn't he look wise?" whispered Paul.

"As wise as Socrates," answered Derrick.

Not having had Derrick's education, Paul did not know who Socrates was, but the name pleased him, and he said it over softly to himself—"Socrates, Soc, Socrates. That's what I'm going to call him, Derrick—'Socrates.' I've seen him round here two or three times this morning, and every time he's sat up just like that, and looked as if he knew all that I was thinking about. I believe he could tell how old the ferns are."

"I don't believe they're as old as he is," replied Derrick, laughing.

The rat did not seem to like this, for at Derrick's laughter he gave a little squeak and darted away, disappearing beneath the door.

Within five minutes Paul pointed again, and there sat the rat in precisely the same position as before.

"Perhaps this is what he wants," said Paul, throwing a bit of bread towards the rat. Approaching it cautiously, the beast first smelled of it, and then seizing it in his mouth again darted beneath the door. Several times did he thus come for food, but he always carried it away without stopping to eat even a crumb.

"He must have a large and hungry family," said Derrick.

"Or else it isn't his dinner-hour yet, and he is waiting for the proper time to eat," laughed Paul.

Always after this Socrates the rat was a regular attendant upon the boys at lunch-time, and he never failed to receive a share of whatever they had to eat. Often at other times, when no sound save the steady gurgle of the black water beneath him broke the tomb-like silence of the gangway, Paul would see the little beady eyes flashing here and there in the dim lamplight, and would feel a sense of companionship very comforting to his loneliness. At such times Paul would talk to the rat about the queer pictures on the walls, and ask him questions concerning them. For hours he talked thus to his wise-looking companion, until he began to believe that the rat understood him, and could really answer if he chose.

Sometimes when he was asked a question he could not answer, he would reply, "I don't know, but I'll speak to Socrates about it"; and at the first opportunity he would explain the whole difficulty to his gray-whiskered friend. Frequently, by thus thinking and talking the matter over, he would arrive at some conclusion, more or less correct, and this he would report as "What Socrates thinks."

At noon that day Monk Tooley, as usual, ate his lunch and smoked his pipe with Job Taskar in the blacksmith's shop; but he was very quiet, and not inclined to be talkative as was his habit. When he left, the blacksmith's helper slipped out after him, and saying, "'Ere's summut I think belongs to you, Mr. Tooley," handed him three bits of wood, on each of which was deeply scored M. T.

"My lost checks!" exclaimed the miner. "Where'd yer get 'em, Boodle?"

"They dropped out hof Taskar's pocket when 'e flung hoff 'is coat this mornin', and hi picked 'em hup unbeknownst to 'im."

"So he's de one as stole 'em, is he?" began the miner in a passion. Then, changing his tone, he added, "But never mind, Boodle; of course he only took 'em for de joke, and we'll say no more about it. Yer needn't mention havin' found 'em."

"Hall right, Mr. Tooley, hit shall be has you says," replied the helper, meekly, though he was really greatly disappointed at this turn of affairs. He disliked as much as he feared his boss, and had hoped that this little incident might lead to a quarrel between him and the miner whose lost property he had just restored.

Monk Tooley went back to his work muttering to himself, "All dis means summut; but we'll just lie low a bit, and mebbe Body-master an me'll have a score ter settle yet."

The Young Sleepers had been so badly demoralized by the incidents following their attempt to extract a treat from Derrick, and especially by the mishap of their leader, that they had not the courage to repeat the experiment. Derrick and Paul therefore left the mine that evening without being molested. They took pains, however, not to be very far behind two brawny pillars of strength in the shape of Tom Evert and Monk Tooley when they reached the foot of the slope.

Before going home Monk Tooley walked with Derrick to the Widow Sterling's, to inquire after his boy, and was much pleased to learn that he was getting along nicely.

"It lightens my heart ter hear yer say dat, missus," he said to Mrs. Sterling, "an' it's not one woman in ten thousand would do what yer doin' fer my poor lad."

"Derrick proposed it," said Mrs. Sterling, with a mother's anxiety that her son should receive all the credit due him. "Without his help I'm afraid I should not have been able to invite Bill to come here."

"He's a fine lad, missus," replied the miner, "an' if de time ever comes dat I can serve you or him, my name's not Monk Tooley if I don't jump at de chance."

After sitting a while with Bill, and doing what lay in his power to make him comfortable, Derrick again got out his father's plans of the old workings of the mine, and pored over them intently. Finally he exclaimed, "It's all right; I am sure of it!"

"What are you so sure of, my son?" asked his mother, looking up from her work.

"Something I have been trying to find out for Mr. Jones, mother, but he does not want a word said about it; so I must keep the secret to myself, at any rate until after I have seen him."

"Seems to me that you and Mr. Jones have a great many secrets together. You really are becoming quite an important young man, Derrick."

Although Derrick only smiled in reply, he thought to himself that his mother was about right, and hoped others would take the same view of his importance that she did.

Selecting some tracing-paper from among the things left by his father, the boy made a tracing from the plan he had been studying. He followed all the lines of the original carefully, except in one place where the plan was so indistinct that he could not tell exactly where they were intended to go. Being in a hurry, and feeling confident that they should be continued in a certain direction, he drew them so without verifying his conclusions.

When he had finished he left the house, and went directly to that of the mine boss, taking the tracings he had just made with him.

CHAPTER X

IN THE OLD WORKINGS—MISLED BY AN ALTERED LINE

Mr. Jones was expecting Derrick that evening, and was waiting somewhat impatiently for him. When the boy at last arrived he was taken into the library, where, as soon as the door was closed, the mine boss asked:

"Well, Derrick, have you heard anything more about the meeting?"

"Not a word, sir."

"To-morrow is the 27th, you know."

"Yes, sir, I know it is."

"And my fate, and perhaps yours too, may be decided within twenty-four hours from now."

At this Derrick started; he had not realized that he was in any particular danger.

"Do you think, sir, they would pay any attention to a boy like me?" he asked.

"I certainly do," replied the mine boss. "They would pay attention to anybody or anything that stood in their way, or seemed likely to interfere with their plans. I am afraid, from what Job Taskar said the other day, that they consider your presence in the mine as dangerous to them. I am sorry that my liking for you, and efforts to promote your interests, should have placed you in such an unpleasant position. If you like I will try and get you a place as errand boy in the main office of the company, where you will be in no danger."

"Oh, no, sir!" exclaimed Derrick. "Please don't think of such a thing. I'd rather take my chances with the Mollies in the mine than go into an office. There I should never be anything but a clerk; while here I may some day become an engineer, as my father was. Don't you think I may, sir?"

"Yes," answered the other, smiling at the boy's earnestness, "I think any boy of ordinary intelligence and blessed with good health can in time occupy any position he chooses, if he directs his whole energy in that direction, and makes up his mind that no obstacle shall turn him from it."

"I have made a beginning, sir," said Derrick, much encouraged by these words from one who was so greatly his superior in age, knowledge, and position, and whose opinion he valued so highly.

"Have you?" asked the mine boss, with a kindly interest. "In what way?"

"I am studying my father's books, and trying to work out problems from some old plans I found among his papers. One of them is a plan of the very oldest workings of this mine, and I have brought a tracing of a part of it to show you."

"Very good," said Mr. Jones, glancing at the tracing carelessly. "I have no doubt that in time you will become a famous engineer."

Although this was spoken kindly enough, it was evident that the speaker's thoughts were far away, probably trying to devise some means for being present at the approaching meeting in the mine.

Noting this, Derrick said, "I did not bring the tracing just to show what sort of work I could do, sir, but because I think it will lead us to where we can hear what they say at that meeting."

Instantly the mine boss exhibited a new interest. "Explain it," he said.

Then Derrick told him of the old drift-mouth he had discovered, and said he felt confident that if they followed the gangway leading in from it they would reach the top of the old air-shaft into which Bill Tooley had fallen, and up which had come the voices of the Mollies at their previous meeting.

"If we could get there by this back way it would be capital!" exclaimed the mine boss. "In that case my presence in the mine would be unknown and unsuspected; whereas, if we should go in as you did, from the other end of the old gangway, we could hardly escape discovery. If that route proves practicable a great load is lifted from my mind; for, somehow or other, I must find out what these Mollies are up to. You are of course sure of the correctness of the plans?"

"My father drew them," answered Derrick.

"I was not questioning your father's accuracy; I only wanted to know if this tracing was an exact copy of the original."

"Yes, sir, it is," answered Derrick, though with a slight hesitation in his voice as he thought of the one place he had not been quite sure of. This was where the plan had been somewhat blotted and blurred, so that he could not see whether or not two lines joined each other. Having made up his mind that they ought to be joined, he had thus drawn them on his tracing. It was such a small thing that he did not consider it worth mentioning. Thus, without meaning to make a false statement, he said that his tracing was an exact copy of the original, and by so doing prepared the way for the serious consequence that followed.

Derrick was a fine, manly fellow, and was possessed of noble traits of character, but like many another boy he was inclined to be conceited, and to imagine that he knew as much if not a little more than his elders. Nor was he backward in parading his knowledge, or even of allowing it to appear greater than it really was.

In the present instance he was proud of the confidence reposed in him by the mine boss, and of the skill with which he had prepared the plan of operations they were now discussing. It really seemed to him that he was about to become the leader in a very difficult enterprise in which the other was to be a follower.

The mine boss, with a quick penetration of human character, gained by years of study and experience, suspected something of this weakness on Derrick's part, but did not consider that either the proper time or opportunity had yet come for warning him against it.

So Derrick's plan was discussed in all its details, and before they separated that night it was adopted.

In order that the mistake made by Derrick in his slight alteration of the plan of the old workings, as shown in his tracing, may be understood, a few words of explanation are necessary.

The old drift-mouth, that he had discovered almost hidden beneath a tangle of vines and bushes, was on a mountain side above a deep valley. Farther down was the mouth of a second drift, which he had not discovered, and knew nothing of. On the opposite side of the mountain was another valley, the bottom of which was on about the same level as the higher of these drifts. The old workings ran from them through the mountain, and under this valley in which the present colliery was located.

When the gangway from the upper of the two drifts had been opened as far as the valley, the vein that it followed took a sudden dip. The gangway was in consequence changed into a slope, which finally led into the workings beneath. Some time after they had been abandoned a great "break" or cave-in of the ground above there had occurred at the edge of the valley, and by it an opening was made into the lower set of workings. It was on the opposite side of the valley from this break that the new workings were now being pushed; and somewhere between it and them was the old air-shaft and the chamber that the Mollies had selected as their place of secret meeting.

Now Derrick had got hold of a plan of the lower set of these old workings which he knew nothing of, and thought it was a plan of the upper set, which in reality only extended to the edge of the valley. He knew that the upper drift-mouth was on about the same level as the top of the old air-shaft, and thought he had a plan showing that the two were connected. He reasoned that by entering the old gangway at the break, and following it under the valley, they would not only save distance, but would be conducted directly to the top of the air-shaft which they wished to reach. By the joining of those two lines at the blurred place on the plan it was made to conform so perfectly to this theory that he felt satisfied his conclusions were correct, and consequently made his confident statements to Mr. Jones.

The latter had been connected with the Raven Brook Colliery but a few months, and knew nothing of its old and abandoned workings, not yet having found time to study their plans or explore them. He did know, however, that Mr. Sterling had been one of the company's most trusted engineers, and that Derrick had long been interested in poring over and tracing his father's plans of these very workings. When, therefore, he had carefully examined the tracing that the boy had made, and now assured him was an exact copy of the original plan, and found that it showed a system of galleries by which the top of the air-shaft might be gained from the break, he had no hesitation in saying that they would make the attempt to reach it from that direction. Had he sent for the original plan he would have quickly discovered Derrick's error. He thought of doing this, but did not, for fear of wounding the lad's feelings by appearing to mistrust him.

It was arranged between them that Mr. Jones should leave the village on the afternoon of the 27th, as though bound on some distant expedition, and have it understood that he might possibly be absent all night. An hour before sundown he was to be at the break, prepared to explore the old gangway to which it gave entrance. Here Derrick was to meet him, after having left the mine an hour earlier than usual, gone home for supper, and told his mother that he should be out late on some business for the mine boss.

This plan was successfully followed, without suspicion being aroused, and the young mine boss met his boy companion at the appointed time and place. They both had safety-lamps, and each carried a small can of oil, for they did not know how long they might have to remain in the mine.

In the break they found a rickety ladder that had been placed there for the use of the village children, who were accustomed to come here with baskets, and in a small way mine coal for home use from the sides of the old gangway. Descending this, they lighted their lamps at the bottom, and entering the black opening began to follow the path marked out on Derrick's tracing.

For some distance the way was comparatively smooth, and they made rapid progress. Then they began to encounter various obstacles. Here a mass of rock had fallen from the roof, and they must clamber over it. In another place a quantity of waste material had so dammed a ditch that for nearly a quarter of a mile the gangway was flooded with cold, black water, through which they had to wade. It was above their knees, and, filling their rubber boots, made them so heavy as to greatly impede their progress. In several places where the old timber props had rotted out, such masses of rubbish choked the gangway that they were compelled to crawl on their hands and knees for long distances through the low spaces that were still left. Once they were on the point of turning back, but animated by the importance of their errand they kept on, cheering each other with the thought that they would not be obliged to come back this same way in order to leave the mine.

During the earlier portion of the journey, as they encountered these obstacles, the mine boss urged, almost commanded, Derrick to go back and leave him to continue the undertaking alone. In spite of some faults the lad was no coward, and he begged so earnestly to be allowed to keep on that the other consented, on condition that no greater danger presented itself.

At length they had overcome so many difficulties that the road behind them fairly bristled with dangers, and the young man felt it would be an act of cruelty to send the boy back to encounter them alone.