by James Otis
CHAPTER XIII
BURIED ALIVE
At the moment when Skip Miller knocked away the joist which supportedthe timbers at the top of the tunnel, Fred had stooped to pick up hisshovel, and this position saved him from being instantly killed.
One end of the shoring plank was yet held by the upright placed in thecenter of the cutting, and it remained at an angle, although pinning himdown, while the earth covered him completely.
For a moment he was at a loss to know what had happened, and then heheard, as if from afar off, Joe calling him by name.
"Here I am under the timber," he replied.
"Are you hurt much?"
"I think not; but I shall stifle to death if the dirt isn't taken awaysoon."
"It ain't a sure thing that you won't stifle even then," he heard Billsay sharply. "Take hold, mate, an' let's get him from beneath while wehave a chance to breathe."
Then the grating of the shovels was distinguished, and pound by poundthe weight was removed until nothing save the timber held him down.
"Can you get out now?" Joe asked, and his voice sounded strangelyindistinct.
"Not till the joist is pulled away."
"When that is done it's safe to say tons of the roof will follow," Billmuttered, and Joe asked:
"Does it hurt you much, lad?"
"The edges are cutting into my back terribly."
"Grin an' bear it as long as you can. Our only chance for life is tobreak through the wall into the old tunnel; but if that timber is takenaway it's good-bye for all hands."
"Then don't bother about me. It's better one died than three."
There was no reply to this. The men were digging at the barrier of earthwith feverish energy, and each instant respiration became moredifficult. The slight amount of air which filtered through the bank ofslate and sand was no more than sufficient for one pair of lungs.
The darkness was profound. The lamps had been extinguished by the shock,and five minutes later it was impossible to re-light them. The oxygenhad become so nearly exhausted that a match would not burn.
Fred bit his lips to prevent an outcry. The huge timber was crushing himslowly but surely, and the pain was intense.
Each instant the blows of the men grew fainter. Strength and even thepower of movement was rapidly succumbing to the noxious vapor.
Joe was the first to give up, and as the pick fell from his nervelesshands he said faintly:
"It's all over, lads. We might as well pull the timber from Fred, anddie at the same moment."
"Don't weaken, mate," Bill said, imploringly. "Who knows but we'rewithin 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 hashappened we shall be dead."
Joe had lost all courage and the apathy of despair was upon him. Hiswords robbed Fred of the last hope, and as it fled consciousnessdeserted him.
Bill delivered a few more feeble blows with the pick, and then he inturn sank to the ground.
The hand of death was very nearly upon them, and the agonies ofdissolution already passed.
Within a few feet of where the unconscious men lay, willing hands wereworking at the obstruction. No more than three could labor at once, butthese were relieved every two minutes, in order that their energy mightnot be impaired by weariness, and meanwhile others shoveled the slateand earth into cars, that the drift might be kept clear.
Mr. Wright personally assisted in the labor, and it was he who began thecheering which ensued when an aperture was made in the barrier.
"At it with a will, boys," he shouted, "but be careful about removingthe timber, for some of the poor fellows may be beneath it."
The foul air rushing out nearly overcame the laborers, but the eagerrescuers heeded not their own peril, and the moment finally came whenthe unconscious ones were fully exposed to view.
"Pass out the men, and then dig beneath the boy; he must be released inthat manner, otherwise we may all share their fate," and Mr. Wrightshoveled the earth carefully away from Fred, while the others carriedJoe and Bill into the drift.
From his place of concealment on the hillside Skip Miller saw a party ofmen 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, eachcarrying a similar load, marched down the road leading to the village.
The sight nearly overpowered Skip; he shook as if in an ague fit, andafter staring at the sad spectacle until the men had passed from view,he turned and ran through the grove, believing the officers were closeupon him.
The news that two miners and a boy had probably been killed spreadthrough the village rapidly, and Cale Billings was in Taylor's groggerywhen one of the late rioters brought the intelligence.
"It's a wonder they don't accuse us of havin' somethin' to do with theaccident," the newcomer added, and the proprietor said sternly:
"I don't want to drive customers away, but if any who come here have hada hand in murder, they'd better not show their heads 'round this placeagain."
Billings looked disturbed, but made no reply. Although having had nodirect share in the crime, he knew he was really an accomplice, and theknowledge 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 fromthe hillside, and he looked like a boy who had been very ill. Even atthis late hour he did not dare to walk through the village, but skulkedaround 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 heasked 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 orfour days. Joe an' Bill are both in bed, though they'll be out in themorning."
"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 upenough."
"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 paceswith clenched fists.
"You can get the best of me, so I'll have to hold my tongue; but Ireckon I've had all I want of the regulators. Tryin' to kill a fellerwho 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 therewon't be an inch of skin left."
Chunky did not wait to hear more. He started at full speed toward hisown home, and Skip was more alarmed than before.
"Now I'm in a worse scrape than ever, for he's jest fool enough to tellwhat he knows, an' then there will be trouble. I'd better go to meetBillings, an' perhaps he can help me out."
He could reach the rendezvous without going through the village, andgreatly to his relief the leader of the rioters was waiting to receivehim.
"Now this is somethin' like business," and Billings patted the boy onthe head.
Skip stepped back; the touch of the man's hand now, when through him hehad gotten into so much trouble, was disagreeable.
"What am I to do?" he asked fiercely.
"Hel
p me finish what you've begun."
"I won't do it. They'll have me arrested, an' you must get me throughthe scrape."
"So I will after I've served the company out. We'll go off somewheretogether."
"And I'm to leave home?"
"There's nothin' for it if Wright gets the idea that you knocked thetimber away."
"If he doesn't know it already there are them who will tell him. Chunkythinks I did somethin' to help the thing along."
"He does, eh?" and now Billings began to look disturbed. "Is he likelyto 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 kinderscarey 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 felta decided repugnance to becoming Billings' constant companion, but hedared not go home, and it seemed as if there was no other course leftopen.
"It won't do to stay here very long, for folks might see us, and itwouldn'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 Billingsstarted 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 Iwant 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 themark now if you don't want to go to jail."
Billings used the tone of a master, and Skip understood that his crimehad brought him to slavery of the most degrading kind.
The groggery was filled with men when he arrived, and in the number hefound safety. All were excitedly discussing the accident, someintimating that Billings had a hand in it, and no one paid anyparticular attention to the frightened boy who crept cautiously in, asif to avoid being seen.
"Wants grub, eh?" Taylor asked, when Skip made known his errand. "What'she 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, butit 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 thebundle. "Workin' in the breaker ain't a marker to what it'll be runnin'around with Cale Billings."