by Kirk Munroe
CHAPTER IX
WINNING A FRIEND BY SHEER PLUCK
Peveril's lamp had been extinguished during his struggle to force anentrance into the skip, while that in Mike Connell's hat went out ashe sank helpless from terror and crouched at the other's feet. So theblackness that shrouded them as with a pall was only faintly illuminedby the fitful flashing of the fuses that hissed like so many fieryserpents beneath them. Their red eyes gleamed spitefully through thegloom, and for an instant Peveril, leaning over the side of the skip,gazed at them in fascinated helplessness.
Then he leaped down among them and began to tear them from theirconnection with the devilish forces that only awaited a signal toburst forth and destroy him. The fiery serpents bit at him as he flungthem, to writhe in impotent rage, where they could do no harm; but heheeded not the pain, and after a little they expired, one by one,hissing spitefully to the last.
Some of them had already burned so low that he could not pluck themforth, and was forced to stamp out their venomous lives with theconstant knowledge that, should a single spark escape this imperfectmethod of extinguishment, he would still be lost. So fiercely did helabor that in less than one minute the last visible spark from a scoreof fuses had glimmered out, and he stood in absolute darkness. But hemust wait for a full minute more before he could be certain that nonehad escaped him, to creep viciously down through the loose tamping andstill reach the hidden dynamite. It was a period of the same helplessanxiety that immediately precedes the hearing of a sentence that maybe either one of death or acquittal. While it lasted Peveril wasbathed in a cold perspiration, his brain reeled, and his limbstrembled until he was obliged to lean against the side of the shaftfor support.
As second after second dragged itself away, until it was finallycertain that sixty of them had passed, and that sentence had beenpronounced in his favor, the young miner sank to his knees and framed,as best he could, a prayer of gratitude. How long he thus remained ingrateful contemplation of his narrow escape from death he never knew,but he was at length aroused by a shout from above, and, looking up,saw an approaching light twinkling like a star of good promise throughthe blackness. The call that came to him was one of anxiousuncertainty; but, as his answering shout sped upward, it was changedto an exultant cry of joy. Then came cheer after cheer as the skipslowly descended until it finally reached the bottom, and a solitaryfigure sprang from it.
PEVERIL LEAPED DOWN AMONG THE SPUTTERING FUSES]
This person acted like a crazy man, first flinging his arms aboutPeveril, and then falling on his knees at the young man's feet, witha torrent of words in which praise and gratitude were mingled withpleas for forgiveness. He was Peveril's recent companion and avowedenemy, who, after the former had leaped from the skip, had leanedweakly over its side and watched with fascinated gaze the struggle forlife going on below him. Ere it was ended, the hoisting-machinerybegan again to work, and the skip was suddenly impelled upward withbreathless speed.
Those who witnessed its safe arrival at the surface had theircongratulations changed to exclamations of dismay by the discoverythat it contained but a single occupant. Though the time-limit for theexplosion was already passed, and though Mike Connell begged them tosend him down again at once, they refused to do so until another fullminute should elapse. During its slow passage they crowded about theshaft-mouth in breathless silence, listening with strained ears forthe awful sound they so dreaded to hear.
Even with the minute of safety passed, it was not certain that theexplosion might not yet occur; but the young Irishman demanded sofiercely to be instantly lowered to the very bottom that they finallyconsented to do as he desired. Several were even willing to accompanyhim, but he waved these back and insisted upon going alone.
He had to meet the man to whom he owed his life, as well as a shamefulconfession of cowardly acts, and he preferred to meet him alone. Twominutes later he was at the bottom of the shaft, kneeling insemi-darkness on its rocky floor, acknowledging his obligation,confessing his guilt, and imploring forgiveness.
"You are the bravest man I've ever known, Mister Peril, though I'vemet them as was counted brave before; but none of them would dare dowhat you have this day. You have given me my life, and yet I triedtwice to take yours, for 'twas me flung that rock in the mine.And--I'm choked with the shame of the black deed--but I gave thesignal to hoist the skip a few minutes since, and tried to leave youhere to die. I'm a coward and a murderer at heart, Mister Peril, andthe dirtiest blackguard that ever was let live. I'm not worthy of yourcontempt, and yet, sir, I'm going to dare ask a favor of you."
"My dear fellow," interrupted Peveril, who was greatly moved by theman's attitude and words of self-condemnation. "Believe me--"
"Wait, Mister Peril. Please wait, sir, till you've heard me through.You have the right to hate me, to despise me, or even to kill me, andI'd not lift a finger to prevent you; but I'm going to ask you toforgive me. If you don't, I can never hold up my head or look anhonest man in the face again. If you can't forgive me I shall neverdare ask the forgiveness of God in heaven."
"I do forgive you, with all my heart," exclaimed Peveril, "and thereis my hand on it." With this he grasped the young Irishman's hand andalmost lifted him to his feet. "You have done a brave deed in comingdown here after me," he added, "while there was still danger of anexplosion, and one much braver even than that, in confessing yourfaults. These two things prove that you are not a coward, and fromthis time on I shall claim you as a friend."
"Thank you, Mister Peril, and may God bless you for them words," criedConnell, in a voice choked with feeling. "As for being your friend,sir, I'd be proud to be counted your slave."
"I would much rather have a friend than a slave," returned the other,smiling. "And so, if you don't mind, we'll stick to the firstproposition. But, Connell, I want to ask you a question. What made youhate me, as you seemed to do from the very first?"
"Jealousy, Mister Peril. Just black, bitter jealousy, and nothing atall else."
"How could that be, when you didn't even know me?"
"Because, sir, I'm near crazy with love for a girl who only laughs atme, and whose folks treat me with contempt. When I first saw you, sostrong and handsome and gentleman-like, with her father, and knew hewas going to take you to live in the very house along of her, Icouldn't help but hate you."
"You surely can't mean Miss Trefethen?"
"Yes, sir, no other; and when I seen you and her walking together, andshe looking up so smiling into your face, I swore I'd kill you if everI had the chance, and this day the devil gave it to me. But now,Mister Peril, you've proved yourself the best man of us two, and ifyou want her I'll never again stand in your way."
"But I don't want her!" cried Peveril. "Nothing was ever farther frommy thoughts; and even if I did, I couldn't have her, because I amengaged to another young lady."
"You are, sir? Bless you for them words! And may I tell her that youare already bespoke?"
"Certainly; or, better still, I will tell her myself at the very firstopportunity I have for speaking with her on such a subject. But, nowthat everything is settled between us, don't you think we'd betterprepare the blast again before we go up? There is fuse enough left inthe skip."
"Well, you are a game one!" exclaimed Connell, admiringly. "Of course,if you are willing to do it after what you've just gone through, I'mthe man to stand by you. Only I do hope as there won't be no hitch inthe hoisting this time."
The signal, "All's well," having already been sent to the surface,Connell now notified the engineer to be ready to hoist for a blast,and the two set to work. In a few minutes the charge, that had sonearly proved fatal to both of them, was again ready for firing, andthe hissing fuses were lighted. Then both men sprang into the skip,the signal to hoist was hurriedly sounded, and away they sped up theblack shaft towards the distant sunlight.
As they reached the surface and clambered from the skip, aided by adozen eager hands, there came from the depths below a dull roar andthe tremor of a heavy ex
plosion. At this a throng of persons which, toPeveril's surprise, was gathered at the shaft-mouth raised a mightycheer. Then they crowded tumultuously forward to shake hands with, oreven to gaze on, the hero of the hour; for, on his previous visit tosurface, Mike Connell had told of Peveril's brave deed, and news of ithad already spread far and wide. So the night-shift had paused to seehim before entering the mine, and the day-shift had waited to greethim before going to their homes, while others had come from alldirections.
Waving them all back, and grasping Peveril's hand, Mike Connellshouted:
"Wait a minute, mates! Only one minute, and then you shall have achance at him. First, though, I want you all to know that Mister Perilhere has just stepped from the very jaws of hell, where he went of hisown free will to save my life. It's proud I am to call him my friend,and for the deed he has done this day I name him the bravest lad inall Red Jacket. If any man denies that, he'll have to settle with MikeConnell, that's all. And now, boys, you may treat him as a brave mandeserves to be treated."
Poor Peveril, covered with confusion, tried to explain that whateverhe had done was for his own salvation as well as for that of hisfriend, Mr. Connell; but no one would listen. All were too busy withcheering and in crowding forward for a look at him.
In another minute he was hoisted on the shoulders of half a dozensturdy miners, the foremost of whom was proud old Mark Trefethen, andwas being borne in triumphal procession through the principal streetsof the town.
It was a spontaneous tribute of working-men to a fellow-workman; and,gladly as Peveril would have modified the form of the ovation, he wasmore proud of it than of any ever tendered him for having stroked theOxford 'varsity eight to a win.