by Anonymous
CHAPTER XIII
THE KING PHILIP MINE
I think it is safe to say that Dick and I were at that moment the twomost astonished boys in the State of Colorado.
Where had the man sprung from? And how had he disappeared again? Theremust be, of course, some opening in the rock which we had failed tonotice; a circumstance easily explained by the fact that we had not gonefar enough up the basin, and by the added fact that our attention hadbeen fixed upon the opposite wall.
Then, again, though the identity of the man could hardly be doubted, whyshould he take offence, as he seemed to do, at being addressed as "TheBadger"?
This was a question to which we could not find an answer; and, indeed,for the moment we postponed any attempt to do so, for our attention wastoo much taken up by the action of the water, which, continuing to risewith great rapidity, forced us to retreat higher and higher up the dam.
For about half an hour it thus continued to rise, until there must havebeen at least fifteen feet of it in the basin, by the end of which timewe noticed a sudden diminution in the amount coming over the fall. A fewminutes later the flow had ceased altogether, when the water in the poolat once began to subside again, though far less rapidly than it hadrisen.
Our first impulse after our narrow escape from drowning had been to runto the other end of the dam and get back forthwith to our horses, butthis we had found to be rather too risky an undertaking to attempt, forthe water, coming out from under the dam, was rushing down the bed ofthe canon, seething and foaming between the obstructing boulders in sucha fashion that we decided that discretion would be a good deal thebetter part of valor--that it would be an act of wisdom to wait a bit.
Moreover, when the flood, leaping from the cliff, had bowled us over insuch unceremonious style, we had had our rifles in our hands, and asthose indispensable weapons were at that moment lying under fifteen feetof water, there was nothing for it but to wait till the pool drained offif we wished to recover them.
As there was no telling how long we might have to wait, and as we wereboth wet through and very cold--Dick being besides still shaky from hisrecent buffeting--I collected a lot of dead wood and started a roaringfire, before whose cheerful blaze our clothes soon dried out and ourspirits rose again to their normal level.
It was then that I first fully appreciated the value of my partner'shabit of carrying matches in a water-tight box--a habit I stronglyrecommend to anybody camping out in these mountains.
For three hours we waited, by which time as we guessed there remainednot more than a foot of water in the pool. I had gone down to measure itwith a stick, and was leaning with my hand against the smooth, wet wallon my right, when I heard sounds as of a human voice speaking veryfaintly and indistinctly. The sounds seemed to come from the rock wheremy hand rested, and putting my ear against it, I plainly heard a strangevoice say, "Hallo, boys!"
"Hallo!" I called out, at the top of my voice, startled into anexplosive shout. "Who are you? Where are you?"
"Who's that you're talking to?" cried Dick, springing to his feet andlooking all about.
"I don't know," I replied. "Come here and put your ear to the rock."
Dick instantly joined me, when we both very clearly heard the voice say:
"You needn't shout. I can hear you. Do you hear me?"
"Yes," said I; and repeating my question, I asked: "Who are you, andwhere are you?"
"Before I tell you that," replied the voice, "I want to ask _you_ aquestion, if you please. Are you Americans?"
"Yes," I replied. "Two American boys."
"Thank you. One more question, please: Did old Galvez send you up here?"
"No!" I replied, with considerable emphasis. "We never saw old Galveztill yesterday."
"Good! Then I'll come down if you'll wait a minute."
It was less than a minute that we had to wait, when from behind a slightbulge in the left-hand wall, up near the head of the basin, thereappeared the figure of a young fellow, seemingly about twenty years old,who, with his trousers tucked up, carrying a rifle in one hand and hisboots in the other, came wading down to us.
With what interest we watched his approach will be imagined. Neither ofus doubted that it was the young fellow whom Galvez had mentioned ashaving visited Hermanos during his absence, and as soon as he had comenear enough for us to distinguish his features, I, for one, was sure ofit, for, with his hook nose and his gray eyes, he did indeed bear acurious resemblance to my partner.
Standing on the bank at the edge of the water, we waited for him to comenear, when, having advanced to within six feet of us he stopped and eyedus critically. He was a good-looking young fellow, not very big, butwith a bright, intelligent face which at once took our fancy. Apparentlyhis judgment of our looks was also favorable, for, smiling pleasantly,he said:
"Good-evening, boys. Which of you is Dick?"
"I am," replied the owner of that name.
"I just wanted to congratulate you, that's all, on your escape just now.It might have gone hard with you if it hadn't been for my good friend,Sanchez."
"Sanchez?" I repeated, inquiringly. "Is that The Badger's proper name?"
"Yes," replied the stranger. "Pedro Sanchez. The name of El Tejon wasbestowed upon him by old Galvez, and consequently he objects to it.Your use of that name just now made him suspicious that you might beemissaries of the padron, and it was that which caused him to jump backinto the water so suddenly."
"I see. I'll take care in future. Here! Give me your hand"--seeing thathe was about to come up the bank.
"Thank you," replied the stranger, reaching out his hand to me andgiving mine a shake before he let go--a greeting he repeated with Dick."I'm very glad to find you are a couple of American boys and not a pairof Mexican cut-throats, as we rather suspected you might be. Let us goup to your fire there and sit down. The water will take anotherhalf-hour yet to drain off completely."
Accordingly, we walked up to the fire, where the stranger dried his feetand pulled on his boots again.
"Why did you suspect us of being Mexican cut-throats?" asked Dick. "Didyou think that old Galvez had sent us up here on a hunt for you or forEl--for Sanchez, I mean?"
"Yes, that was it. We've been watching you for two days past. We saw yougo down to Hermanos yesterday and start up the trail this morning. Fromthe fact of your having gone down to the village, Pedro was inclined tobelieve you were hunting him or me; but, for my part, I rather inferredfrom your actions that you were hunting the old copper mine."
"The old copper mine!" we both cried.
"Yes. Did I make a mistake? Weren't you?"
"No, you didn't make any mistake," replied Dick. "What surprised us wasthat you should know anything about it."
The young fellow laughed. "Do you suppose, then," said he, "that you arethe only ones to notice the pots and pans down there at Hermanos?"
"No, of course not," replied Dick. "The professor was right, you see,Frank," he continued, turning to me, "when he said that the first whiteman who came along would notice those copper utensils and go hunting forthe mine."
"Yes," said I; and addressing the stranger again, I added: "So it wasthe copper mine you were seeking after all, was it? Old Galvez thoughtyou came up here looking for Sanchez."
Thereupon I related to him what the padron had said on the subject, whenthe young fellow, smiling rather grimly, remarked, with a touch ofsarcasm in his voice:
"Nice old gentleman, the Senor Galvez. So he professed not to know myname, did he? He's a bad lot, if ever there was one. He was right,though, in supposing that I came up here to look for Pedro. That was mymain object, though I intended at the same time to keep an eye open forthe old mine."
"And have you seen any indication of it?--if we may ask."
"Oh, yes," he replied, with unaccountable indifference. "There was notrouble about that. Pedro discovered it years ago and he took mestraight to it."
At this unlooked-for blow to all our hopes and plans, Dick and I gazedat eac
h other aghast. At one stroke apparently, our expedition wasdeprived of its object. We might just as well turn round and go homeagain, as far as the King Philip mine was concerned. Our hopes had beenso high; and here they were all toppled over in an instant. Intense wasour disappointment.
For half a minute we sat there speechless, when our new acquaintance,observing our crestfallen looks, remarked:
"I'm afraid that is a good deal of a disappointment to you, isn't it?But, perhaps you will be less disappointed when I tell you that the oldmine is valueless to me or you or anybody else."
"How's that?" exclaimed Dick.
"Why, it's---- But come and see for yourselves," he cried, springing tohis feet. "That's the best way. You'll understand the why and thewherefore in five minutes."
"What! Is it near here, then?" asked my partner.
"Yes, close by. Behind the bulge in the wall on the left here."
"On _that_ side!" cried Dick. "Not on the right, then, after all? Well,that is a puzzler!"
"Why is it a puzzler?" asked the stranger. "I don't understand you."
"Why, if the mine is on the _left_ of the creek, what was that bridgefor up above here, crossing over to the _right_?"
"Bridge! What bridge? What do you mean?"
Upon this we told him of the niches in the rock up above, which wesupposed to have been receptacles for bridge-stringers.
"That's queer," remarked our friend. "I had not heard of those before.I wonder if Pedro knows anything about it. It is a puzzler, as you say."
"Yes, I can't make it out," continued Dick; and after standing for aminute thinking, he repeated, with a shake of his head: "No, I can'tmake it out. I can't see what that bridge was for. Well, never mind thatfor the present; let's go and see the old mine."
"Come on, then. But before we go, I'll just speak to Pedro, or he may begoing off and hiding himself somewhere up in the old workings. Do younotice," he asked, "how smoothly the swirl of the water has scoured outa sort of half-arch at the base of the canon-wall all the way from theend of the dam here, under the waterfall, round to the bulge on theother side? It forms a perfect 'whispering gallery.' Hallo, Pedro!" hecalled out, putting his face close to the rock. "It is all right. We arecoming up now."
Descending to the bed of the pool, whence all the water except three orfour permanent puddles had now drained away, we first searched for ourrifles, and having recovered them, followed our guide around the bulgein the wall, and there found ourselves confronting the oldmine-entrance.
About ten feet above the floor of the pool was a big hole in the rock,evidently made by hand--for it was square--leading up to which wereseveral roughly-hewn steps, more or less rounded off and worn away bythe water. On top of the steps, framed in the blackness of the openingbehind him, stood the squat figure of Pedro Sanchez--in his rough shirtof deer-skin representing very well, I thought, the badger in the mouthof his hole.
"BEHIND HIM, STOOD THE SQUAT FIGURE OF PEDRO SANCHEZ."]
"Pedro," said our new friend, "these gentlemen were seeking the oldmine, as I thought. You have nothing to fear from them."
"On the contrary," cried Dick, bounding up the steps and holding out hishand, "we have to thank you for your good service just now!"
Stretching out his long arm, the little giant smiled genially, showing arow of big white teeth.
"It is nothing," said he; adding, with a twinkle in his eye: "Thesenores will remember that I owed to them some return for theirassistance against the wolves."
"That's a fact!" cried Dick. "I'd forgotten that. So you remember us, doyou? I wonder at that--you didn't stay long to look at us."
"No, senor," replied Pedro, laughing. "I was out of my own country andwas distrustful of strangers."
Turning to our new friend, who was wondering what all this was about,Dick explained the circumstances of our former meeting with Pedro,adding:
"So, you see, we are old acquaintances after all. In fact, if we had notmet Pedro before we should not be here now, for it was his copper-headedarrow which brought us down, oddly enough."
"That was odd, certainly. Well, Pedro, get the torch and show your oldfriends over the mine. We must be quick, or it will be getting darkbefore we can get back to our camp."
Pedro disappeared into the darkness somewhere, while we ourselvesclimbed up into the mouth of the tunnel. It was very wet in there: wecould hear the _drip_, _drip_ of water in all directions.
"Were you in here when the flood came down?" asked Dick. "How is it youweren't drowned--for I see the water stood five feet deep in thetunnel?"
"Oh," replied the other, "there was no fear of drowning. There areplenty of places in here out of reach of the water. Wait a moment andyou'll see."
True enough, we soon heard the striking of a match, and next we saw theMexican standing with a torch in his hand in a recess about ten feetabove us.
"That is where we took refuge," said our friend. "Far out of reach ofthe water, you see. Come on, now, and I'll show you how this old minewas worked, and why it was abandoned."
Leading the way, torch in hand, he presently stopped, and said:
"The place where we came in was the mouth of the main working-tunnel. Itfollows the vein into the rock for about a thousand feet, which wouldbring it, as I calculate, pretty near to the other canon--for the rockbetween the two canons is nothing more than a spit, as you willremember. Above the tunnel they have followed the vein upward, gougingout all the native copper and wastefully throwing away all the lessvaluable ore, until there was none left. If you look, you can see theempty crevice extending upward out of sight."
"I see," said Dick, shading his eyes from the glare of the torch. "Itseems to have been pretty primitive mining."
"It was--that part of it, at least. But having exhausted all the copperabove, they next began the more difficult process of mining downward.Come along this way and I'll show you."
Walking along the tunnel some distance, our guide pointed out to us asquare pool in the floor, measuring about eight feet each way.
"This," said he, "was a shaft. There is another further along. How deepthey are, I don't know."
"But, look here!" cried Dick. "How could they venture to sink shafts,when at any moment a flood might rush in and drown them all?"
"Ah! That's just the point," said our friend. "Come outside again andyou'll understand."
Returning once more to the bed of the pool, we faced the hole in thewall, when our guide continued:
"Now, you see, the floor of the tunnel is about ten feet above thecreek-bed, and before the cliff fell down, forming the dam, the waterran freely past its mouth. But some time after the miners had got outall the copper overhead and had begun sinking shafts, this cliff camedown, blocked the channel, and caused the water to back up into theworkings. As you remarked just now, it filled the tunnel five feet deep,and, as a matter of course, filled the shafts up to the top."
"I see," said Dick. "You think, then, that the cliff fell incomparatively recent times. I believe you are right, too. That wouldaccount for there being no trees of any great size upon the dam."
"Yes. And as a consequence the mine was abandoned; for it would havetaken years to dig away this dam, and as long as it existed it would beimpossible to go on with the work with the water coming down and fillingup the tunnel once every three days, or thereabouts."
"Every three days!" we both exclaimed. "Is this a regular thing, then,this flood?"
"Why, yes. I'd forgotten you didn't know that. Yes, it's a prettyregular thing, and a very curious one, too. Pedro says that up in thatold crater near the top of the mountain there is a great intermittentspring which every now and then rises up and spills out a great mass ofwater. The water comes racing down this gorge, and half an hour laterleaps over the fall here, fills up the pool and the mine, and graduallydrains off again under the dam."
"That certainly is a curious thing," Dick responded. "And it alsofurnishes a reason good enough to satisfy anybody for abandoning themine. Well, Frank
," he went on, "this looks like the end of ourexpedition. We've done what we set out to do:--found the King Philipmine; and now, I suppose, there's nothing left but to turn round and gohome again."
"I suppose so," I assented, regretfully. "I hate to go back; but I'mafraid we have no excuse for remaining."
"You think you must go back, do you?" asked our friend. "I'm sorry youshould have to do so, but if you must, why shouldn't we travel the firststage together? I start back to Santa Fe to-morrow, and from there hometo Washington."
"You live in Washington, do you?" said Dick. "Then, why do you go roundby way of Santa Fe? It would be much shorter to go to Mosby--and then wecould ride all the way together."
"I wish I could, but I have to go the other way. I left my baggagethere, for one thing; and besides that I have some inquiries to makethere which my mother asked me to undertake."
Dick nodded. "And then you go straight back to Washington?" he asked.
"Yes. Then I must get straight back home as fast as I can and report tomy father. I had two commissions to perform for him:--one was to lookinto the matter of this old mine; the other concerned the presentcondition of the Hermanos Grant. The first one I consider settled, butthe other, I find, is a matter for the lawyers: it is too complicated asubject for me, a stranger in the land and a foreigner."
"A foreigner!" I cried. "Why, we supposed you were an American."
"No," said he. "I am a Spaniard."
"A Spaniard!" we both exclaimed this time.
"Yes," laughing at our astonishment. "A Scotch-Irish-Spaniard--whichseems a queer mixture, doesn't it? Though I was born in Spain, myforefathers were Irish, my mother is Scotch, and I have lived forseveral years first in Edinburgh and then in London; and now my father,who is in the Spanish diplomatic service, is stationed in Washington."
"And what----?" I began, and then stopped, with some embarrassment, asit occurred to me that it was not exactly my business.
"And what am I doing out here? you were going to say. I'll tell you. Myfather was out in this part of the world a good many years ago, havingbusiness in Santa Fe, where he got track of this old copper mine; buthis idea of its whereabouts was very vague until, about a year ago, agentleman whom he had met when he was out here wrote him a lettertelling him of the number of copper utensils to be found down there atHermanos---- What's the matter?"
That he should thus exclaim was not to be wondered at if the look ofsurprise on my face was anything like the look on Dick's.
"Well, of all the queer things!" exclaimed the latter; and then,advancing a step and addressing our friend, he said, smiling: "I thinkwe can guess your name."
"You do!" cried the young fellow. "That seems hardly likely. What isit?"
"Blake!" replied Dick.