Copper Coleson's Ghost

by Edward P. Hendrick

  CHAPTER XXII A DARING ATTEMPT

  Grouped together upon the narrow steps of the mine, the five boys staredstupidly at the heavy, nail-studded barrier which stood between them andfreedom.

  “This is some of Slugger Slade’s work!” growled Ned Blake. “What a foolI was to have trusted him!”

  “Shucks! We can break down this door!” cried Charlie Rogers. “Wait aminute till I get that winch-handle!” and running down the stairs, hequickly returned with the heavy iron crank.

  Taking the implement and setting himself for a full swing, Ned attackedthe door with a rain of blows which sent echoes reverberating down thetunnel like the roll of thunder. The solid oak resisted stubbornly, andas Ned redoubled his efforts, the iron handle snapped short in his hand.

  “Here’s a sweet mess!” grunted Tommy Beals disgustedly.

  “Let’s find something for a battering ram,” suggested Dick, startingdown the stairs.

  Diligent search through all parts of the mine failed to discoveranything that could be used to force the door, and after a time the boysgave it up.

  “What’s Slugger’s idea in locking us down here anyhow?” demanded Rogers,as he sat on the dump-car glaring helplessly at the closed door abovehim.

  “No doubt he plans to keep us prisoners until he can get word to hisrum-running gang,” replied Ned. “There’s several thousand dollars’ worthof liquor stored down here and they don’t want to lose it.”

  “Then I suppose we’ve got to wait here till they come with a truck andcart the stuff away,” stormed Dick.

  “Why, before they get around we’ll probably starve to death,” wailedTommy Beals. “What time is it, anyhow, my watch has run down.”

  “It’s three o’clock,” yawned Dave Wilbur, consulting his time-piece andstretching out beside Rogers on the dump-car. “This is a bum place tosleep, but at that, it’s better than standing up all night.”

  “Weary is right,” muttered Charlie Rogers, “we may as well make the bestof it. We’re caught like rats in a trap and there’s nothing to do butwait till we’re let out.”

  Nobody attempted to dispute this dismal fact, and after a time the five“rats” sought the least uncomfortable spots in their decidedlyuncomfortable trap and settled down with such patience as they couldcommand. An hour dragged its tedious length away and then Ned Blakeroused himself from his place on the stairs.

  “Fellows,” he began, “we’re caught, as Red says, like rats in a trap.I’m bound to admit that it is the result of my stupidity in giving Sladehis freedom and allowing him to turn the tables on us this way.”

  “Forget it!” growled Charlie Rogers. “You’re no more to blame than therest of us. We all agreed to let him go. Five dumb-bells—I’ll tell theworld!”

  “Mighty nice of you to talk that way about it, Red,” was the reply, “butit doesn’t change the fact that it was I who led you into this trap. Iknow this and I’ve been trying to figure some way to get out of it.”

  “Not a chance,” drawled Dave Wilbur. “We’ll stay right here tillsomebody comes to _let_ us out—which may be today or tomorrow or nextweek! ‘Fools rush in where angels fear to tread’—that’s _us_!”

  “Frankly, it’s this question of _time_ that’s worrying me,” admittedNed. “We could stand it several days without food, but there’s only alimited amount of air in this mine. Five of us use it up pretty fast.It’s getting stuffy up at this end of the tunnel even now and in anothertwenty-four hours it may become positively dangerous.”

  “But what can we do?” demanded Beals. “The only way out is through thatdoor!”

  “Here’s what I was thinking,” replied Ned. “That whisky came down fromthe surface of the lake and up through the tunnel. I’m wondering if wecan’t manage to reverse the process.”

  “Are you talking about swimming under water to the end of the tunnel andthen up to the surface?” cried Rogers. “Why, man, you’re _crazy_!”

  “Don’t think of trying such a thing, Ned,” urged Dick, earnestly. “It’sa big hundred yards from where the water begins out to the end and itmust be ten yards more to the surface!”

  “Sure, it is,” asserted Wilbur. “Nobody but a South Sea Islander couldstand a chance of getting through.”

  “I’ll admit that under ordinary circumstances it would be a difficultand maybe an impossible stunt,” agreed Ned, “but I had no idea ofattempting to _swim_ any such distance. Let me ask you a question,Dick,” he continued. “After we jumped off the dump-car down there in thetunnel, how long did it take the car to get to the end of the mine?”

  “Well, I would say about a minute and a half or maybe two minutes,”guessed Dick. “The cable kept running out about that long after the cardisappeared below the water—if that’s what you mean.”

  “Not over two minutes at the most,” was Ned’s comment. “Now that waswhen the car was empty; if it were loaded, it would run quite a lotfaster.”

  “And you’re talking about letting that dump-car carry us to thesubmerged end of the tunnel where we can then swim up to the surface?”demanded Rogers. “Not for _mine_! I haven’t the nerve!”

  “Gosh! I couldn’t hold my breath two minutes—no, nor one minute to savemy life!” gasped Tommy Beals breathless already at the bare suggestion.

  “Of course, I don’t expect you fellows to try it,” Ned hastened toexplain. “I’m certain I can do it. Holding my breath for a full minuteor more is easy enough, if I’m not exerting myself during the time, andwhen I got to the end of the tunnel I’d shoot up to the surface like acork.”

  “It’s too risky! Don’t try it, Ned!” pleaded Dick.

  “Well, I’m not anxious to do it,” admitted Ned. “Here’s what I hadplanned. It’s now four o’clock; I’ll wait one hour more, and if nobodycomes to let us out by then, I’ll get out without their help. By fiveo’clock the sun will be well up and I’ll be able to see the light aboveme, which will be a big help in locating the opening and reaching thesurface.”

  “Here’s hoping and praying that Slugger Slade or some of his gang getshere before five o’clock!” muttered Dick Somers.

  The other three echoed his sentiment, but the hour passed without asound to break the deathlike silence and, at length, Ned Blake rose andbegan to remove his outer clothing.

  “Bring out a dozen cases of bottles and load ’em onto the car,” hedirected, and the boys obeyed without a word.

  After assuring himself that the car was loaded in such a manner as todistribute the weight equally on all four wheels and lessen the chanceof it jumping the track, Ned gave his final directions to Tommy Beals,who was to handle the brake on the cable-drum.

  “Let her run about as you did before, Fatty, until you feel her hit thewater,” Ned explained. “The instant you see by the lessening of the dragon the cable that she’s gone under, why take your foot off the brake andlet her run as fast as she will. Don’t look so solemn, you fellows. Inabout fifteen minutes you’ll hear me opening that door for you.”

  Mounting the car, Ned gave the signal, and as Beals released the brake,the heavily loaded car started and rumbled away down into the blacknesswith Ned Blake clinging tightly to its forward end.

  With fascinated eyes the four boys watched the cable as it ran rapidlyfrom the drum of the winch. The instant its slackened speed showed thatthe car had struck the water, Dave Wilbur jerked out his watch and toldoff the seconds.

  “Ten—twenty—thirty—forty—fifty—sixty—seventy—”

  “She’s down!” shouted Beals as the cable stopped unreeling.

  “Seventy-six seconds!” announced Wilbur. “Seventy-six, from the time shehit the water.”

  “A minute and sixteen seconds,” muttered Dick Somers. “It was as long asany hour I ever lived!” and Dick sat down suddenly and buried his facein his hands.