by James Otis
CHAPTER XVII
DOWN THE SLOPE
During the time that Billings was making his preparations for the lastact of his life, Sam and Fred remained seated a short distance from thecut which led to Skip's hiding place.
Both were listening intently for the first sound which should betokenthe coming of the miners, and the falling earth which was displaced byBillings' feet as he worked in the cutting attracted their attention.
"There's some one in the tunnel we made," Sam whispered. "Let's creep upand find out who it is."
"That won't do, for there's no chance Billings would come back if heonce got out, and we should arouse suspicions."
Despite this warning Sam advanced a short distance, and on becomingconvinced that the tunnel really had an occupant rejoined Fred, as hewhispered:
"We'd better sneak further along. I reckon somebody is on guard upthere, and we musn't be seen so far down."
He had held the shovel during this excursion, and still retained it asthey walked noiselessly along the drift until arriving at the mouth ofthe short slope.
Here the two halted at the moment when the confined gas, ignited by theopen lamp, burst its bonds, and the shock sent them headlong up theincline.
Huge masses of earth were detached on every hand, except directly in thenarrow way leading to Skip's hiding place, and on scrambling to theirfeet a solid wall shut them out from the drift.
"What was that?" Fred cried in alarm, as he assured himself his lamp wasuninjured.
"An explosion, an' we're penned in here to starve to death," Samreplied, in a trembling voice.
"Can't we dig through this bank and reach the hole in the roof?"
"There is no longer any lower level, as we knew it, and unless we couldmake a new drift there'd be no use working."
"But this part of the mine seems to be all right."
"Yes, unless there's another explosion I reckon we can stay here 'til--"
"'Till what?"
"We shall starve to death after a while."
This mournful conversation was interrupted by Skip, who came runningdown the slope with the most abject fear written on every feature of hisface.
Familiar as he was with the mine he had no need to ask for the cause ofthe noise, and understood as well as Sam the little hope there was forlife.
"Are you shut in, too?" he cried.
"We're here," Sam replied, grimly.
"An' you'd been outside if I hadn't wanted to stay rather than take aflogging."
"You're right, Skip, but this ain't the time to find fault. All threeare in the same box, an' we might as well be friendly."
"Won't they try to get us out?" Fred asked, faintly.
"Nobody knows where we are," Skip replied, bitterly.
"We told mother about you, and she'll be sure to repeat it to Joe andBill now we're in such danger."
Skip's face brightened for an instant, and then he said, in a despairingtone:
"They don't know where this place is. Billings is certain the oldestminers never heard of the drift; he thinks it was made years before theworkings were opened at Farley's."
"Joe and Bill have been down here."
"Even they wouldn't know where to start in. How long will the air holdout, Sam?"
"I don't know, but there's no need of usin' it any faster than'snecessary. We'll put out two of the lamps; one is enough, an' we may bemighty glad to drink the oil."
Fred was very nearly incapable of action. The knowledge that hiscompanions had lost hope literally dazed him, and he could not evenfollow Sam's suggestion.
Two of the lamps were extinguished, and since Fred was the only oneretaining the means of dispelling the darkness, Sam and Skip forced himon ahead as they went still further into the tunnel where the air wouldbe more pure.
"This is the only point from which we may expect aid," Sam said, "an'seein' that we can do nothin' it's better to stay here."
"Won't Joe and Bill try to help us?" Fred asked.
"They'll try, but whether it'll be possible to do anything is anothermatter."
"Can't we begin to dig? We've got one shovel."
"Neither of us knows in which direction to start, an' when workin' morefood would be needed, therefore, to keep alive as long as possible we'dbetter stay quiet."
Skip threw himself on the floor close to the end of the cutting, as ifreconciled to whatever might happen, and Sam sat down beside him.
"Do you think there is any chance that we can get out of here?" Fredasked after a long silence, and Sam replied, gravely:
"We may as well look the matter straight in the face. It's possible theycan strike us without much trouble, but that ain't likely."
During half an hour the boys remained silent and motionless, as if eachwas trying to reconcile himself to the terrible doom which threatened,and then Fred said, with a feeble attempt at cheerfulness:
"It must be near supper time. Suppose we have one square meal?"
"Because a man knows he's slowly drowning there's no reason why heshould try to keep his head under water more than is necessary," Samreplied, sternly.
"What do you mean?"
"We are not suffering with hunger now, but soon will be, so it's wise towait till grub is absolutely needed to keep us alive."
"Then let's do something; this sitting still thinking of what is to comeseems worse than the reality can ever be."
"Very well, we've got a shovel; we'll decide in which direction it'sbest to dig, an' begin operations."
"There surely is a chance of striking another drift."
"Yes, there's a chance," Sam replied, as if the conversation weariedhim. "Each one shall say which course he thinks most likely to bring usout."
Skip wished to continue up the slope, arguing that each inch gainedwould carry them so much nearer the surface, while Fred believed it bestto work through the mass of earth that had fallen, because there a pickwould not be necessary.
"We'd better try Skip's plan," Sam finally said. "By making our wayalong the old drift a chamber of gas might be struck, when all handswould be suffocated. Come on, and I'll start it."
He wielded the shovel until tired, the others carrying the earth back tothe foot of the slope in their hats, and then Fred tried his hand at thelabor.
In this manner each did a certain amount of the work, but at the expenseof no slight suffering. In the confined space it was very warm, and thisexercise brought with it an intense thirst, which, of course, could notbe quenched.
Skip drank a little oil now and then, but Fred could not force himselfto taste the ill-smelling stuff.
There was no way by which the passage of time could be measured. Whenall were sleepy they laid down to rest, and on awakening a smallquantity of food was dealt out. After the scanty meal had been eatenthey continued what every one now believed was useless labor, ceasingonly when the desire for slumber became overpowering again.
Reckoning these periods of work and rest as days and nights, seventy-twohours had elapsed when the supply of food was exhausted, and theyrealized that the final struggle was at hand.
The air remained reasonably pure, probably because a vent had been leftsomewhere in the choked drift, but there were moments when the odor ofgas was perceptible, thus causing Sam to believe efforts were stillbeing made to reach them by those on the outside.
But little work was done when the food had been consumed. Now and thenone or the other would use the shovel in a listless way for a fewmoments at a time, but each had become so weak that any prolongedexertion was out of the question.
They slept as much as possible, and refrained from discussing theterrible situation. Fred no longer listened for the sounds which wouldtell that help was near at hand, and the odor of the oil did not preventhim now from taking his share when the scanty allowance was doled out.
Finally the hour came when the last drop had been drank. The tiny flameof the lamp seemed to have been the only link which connected them withthe outer world, and then without any
means of dispelling the profounddarkness the bitterness of death came upon them.
Fred was the first to sink into a stupor from which he awakened only atrare intervals. Then Skip yielded to despair, and Sam was virtuallyalone.
All three were half sitting, half lying in the excavation they had made,and the moments passed unheeded. To Fred it seemed as if he had beenunconscious for many days when he became aware that Sam was shoutingwildly.
In a dazed way he raised his head, and after a while understood that hiscompanion was saying in an incoherent tone:
"They're coming! They're coming!"
"Who? Who?" Skip asked, feebly, trying in vain to rise to his feet.
"The miners! Can't you hear the sound of their picks?"
When they could bring themselves to understand the meaning of Sam'swords both the sufferers were revived by the excitement sufficiently tostagger to an upright position, but as only at intervals was thecheering sound heard, fatigue soon overpowered them again, and oncemore Sam alone remained conscious.
He made every effort to preserve all his faculties, and after anotherlong, painful time of suspense he was rewarded by hearing a faint hail.
"Hello! lads, are you near?"
"Yes! yes! In the end of a short slope."
"How many are there?"
"Three."
"All well?"
"Two are pretty near gone. Hurry as fast as possible."
"Don't fret, lad, we're workin' the best we know how, an' have beenthese four days, though not allers on the right track."
Then from time to time the laborers shouted in order that they might notdeviate from the right course, and Sam answered each call at the fullstrength of his lungs, which at the best was faint.
Nearer and nearer came the sound of shovels and picks until thetrembling of the wall told that life, liberty, and food were near athand.
Sam remained leaning close against the barrier that he might hear everyhail, until he saw the face of a man appear from amid a shower offalling earth, and then, knowing the rescue was accomplished he lostconsciousness.
Around the mouth of the shaft stood a great crowd when the inanimateboys were brought out. During the nights as well as days this throngremained waiting to see those known to be in the half-ruined mine. Theseanxious watchers, sympathizing with the three grief-stricken mothers,had left their posts only so long as was absolutely necessary, and hadseen each lifeless body as it was sent to the surface, the last comingfrom the slope being the mangled remains of Cale Billings.
Each morning the newspapers had printed long articles regarding thedisaster at Farley's, and in the list of those known to be dead werefour names, the number of victims sacrificed that Billings might avengea fancied wrong.
With the rescue of the boys the work was finished, and in the rear ofthe bearers all the watchers and laborers followed to the village,remaining in the streets until word was sent that no injuries had beensustained.
Then, perhaps for the first time, came the question of what was to bedone now that Farley's was in such a condition as to preclude anypossibility that the works could be opened for several months.
"It's a hard look-out for all of us," one old miner said to a mate, "butthank God that villain of a Billings has no more than four lives toanswer for."