As a distance he made out Roger and Phil, who had just come together. Then, turning around, he glanced below him and made out several other persons on a lower ridge of the mountainside.
"Link Merwell and Job Haskers, and that Sol Blugg is with them," he murmured. "Evidently they are not going to give up the hunt."
Dave watched the party of three for several minutes and then continued his own hunt. Roger and Phil had now disappeared from view, and Abe Blower and Tom Dillon were far away,—almost to the top of the mountain.
A quarter of an hour passed and Dave discovered something which he considered worth investigating. Just above his head was an opening between the rocks,—an irregular slit fifteen or twenty feet high and two to four feet wide.
He had seen many openings before, but this was peculiar for the reason that one edge of the rocks looked as if it had been drilled and blasted away. More than this, within the split lay the broken-off handle of a shovel.
"Oh, what if I have found the lost mine!" he thought. "That shovel-handle proves that somebody has been here, and, yes, that is where somebody bored into the rocks and set off a blast! I must investigate this, and if it looks promising I'll call the others. No use in exciting Roger unless it's worth while."
Dave climbed up to the split and peered within. All was so dark that he could see but little. Yet he made out what looked to be a fairly level bit of flooring and he swung himself to this, first, however, placing his handkerchief on a rock outside, for it had been agreed that if anybody went into any sort of opening he should leave something behind, so that the others, coming that way, might know where he was.
Each of the party had provided himself with a dry stick of wood, to use for a torch if one was required, and Dave now lit the stick he carried and swung it into a blaze. With this in hand he commenced an inspection of the opening he had discovered.
The cave, if such it can be called, proved to be long and narrow,—little more than a split in the rocks. At some points the roofing was out of sight. The flooring, too, was irregular, and our hero had to proceed with care, for pitfalls were numerous and he had no desire to tumble into one of these.
"This mountainside is a good deal like Cave Island," he muttered, as he advanced. "That was honeycombed with caves and so is this. No wonder they have landslides here. The ground and rocks are bound to settle, with so many openings to fill up."
He had gone forward about a hundred and fifty feet when he found the opening leading upward. Then of a sudden he gave a cry of wonder and delight.
Just ahead of him were a number of heavy timbers, such as are used for shoring in mines. And among the timbers lay a pick and a crowbar and the remains of a smashed lantern.
At that instant Dave remembered one thing that Roger had told him, which was that Maurice Harrison had always branded all of his tools with his initials. Eagerly, our hero caught up the pick and held the handle in the light of his torch. There, on the broad part of the pick's handle, were the initials:
M. H.
"It's the lost mine!" shouted the youth. "The lost mine as sure as fate! Oh, I must get out and tell Roger and the others of this!"
But then he hesitated. What if this should prove to be only some abandoned "prospect" and not the real mine at all?
"I'd better look around a little first and make sure," he reasoned. "If I can only find some of the gold Mr. Harrison spoke about, I'd be sure."
He looked at the lantern and the crowbar and saw that both contained the initials found on the pick. He placed the three articles in a heap, and then climbed over the broken timbers to the opening beyond. As he did this a current of pure, cold air struck him.
"There must be other openings to this cave or mine," he reasoned. "Otherwise it wouldn't be so well ventilated. Well, I'm glad to have the fresh air. Where is that gold? If this is really the mine I ought to see some of it in the rocks."
He walked along, throwing the light of his torch on the rocks as he did so. For several minutes he saw nothing that looked like gold, and his heart sank. But suddenly he gave a low whistle and in his excitement almost dropped his torch.
For in a crack of the rocks he had come across a small "pocket," as it is termed by miners. In the pocket lay a quantity of sand, and on top of this an irregular object about as large as a small hen's egg.
"A nugget! A nugget of gold!" cried Dave, as he rubbed it off and inspected it by the light of the torch. "A nugget of gold just as sure as sure can be! Oh, this must be the lost mine!"
In feverish haste he set his torch up in a crack of the rocks and commenced to scoop the sand from the pocket with his hands. Out came another nugget and then another, and then half a dozen, all about the size of hickory nuts. Then the pocket grew so deep and narrow he could not reach down into it. He took up the crowbar, and with it ascertained that the opening with the sand and nuggets was of unknown depth.
"It's the lost Landslide Mine!" said Dave to himself. "The lost mine beyond a doubt, and all this gold belongs to Mrs. Morr! Oh, won't Roger be glad when I tell him the glorious news!"
Gathering up the nuggets he had found, Dave placed them in his pocket to show to the others, and then started to leave the place.
As he did this, he heard a peculiar rumbling sound, coming from a distance. He stopped to listen, and the rumble grew louder and louder.
"What in the world can that be?" he asked himself. "Sounds like a train of cars rushing through a tunnel. I wonder——Oh!"
Dave stopped short, and it is no wonder that a sudden chill passed over him. The very rocks on which he was standing had begun to quake. Then from overhead several stones fell, one so close that it brushed his shoulder.
"It's an earthquake, or another landslide!" he gasped. "I must get out of this, or I'll be buried alive!"
And then, torch in hand, he started for the opening to the mine.
He had hardly covered half the distance to the outer air when there came another quaking, and more rocks fell, one hitting him on the arm. The torch was knocked from his hand and he tripped and fell. Then came a crash and a roar, and to Dave it seemed as if the end of the world had come. He was more than half-stunned, and he fell against a wall of rocks, wondering what would happen next.
* * *
CHAPTER XXIX
ANOTHER LANDSLIDE
It was another landslide, crashing and roaring down the side of the mountain, carrying rocks, dirt, and brushwood before it. The earth roared and shook, and it was said afterwards that the slide could be heard many miles away.
Down in the mine that he had but just discovered, Dave remained crouching against a wall of rock, murmuring a prayer for his safe deliverance from the peril that encompassed him. Every moment he expected would be his last—that those rocky walls would crash in on him and become his tomb. Roar followed roar, as the landslide continued and more rocks fell. Then the air around him seemed to be compressed, until he could scarcely breathe.
"Oh, if I were only out of this!" he thought, and at that moment he would have gladly given all he was worth to have been in the outer air once more.
Gradually the roaring and the quaking ceased, and Dave breathed a little more freely. He groped around in the darkness and managed to locate the fallen torch, which still glowed faintly. He swung it into a blaze with nervous energy.
Was the landslide at an end? Fervidly he prayed that it was. Torch in hand, he tried to make his way to the spot where he had entered the mine.
He soon found this impossible, for the reason that the passageway had shifted, and huge rocks blocked his way. Several times he tried to climb over the rocks, only to fall back helplessly. He cut his hands and broke his finger-nails, but this availed him nothing.
"But I've got to get out! I've got to!" he told himself, over and over again. "I can't stay here!" And then he tried to climb the rocks in front of him once more.
It was hard work, especially with the torch in hand. Once Dave tried to carry the torch between his teeth, but it was too s
hort, and his face was scorched, while the smoke almost strangled him.
Suddenly he slipped on some wet rocks and went down and down, he knew not whither. He was stunned by the fall, and the precious light slid from his grasp and rolled several yards away.
"Oh!" he murmured as he gathered his scattered senses and arose slowly to his feet. Then he saw that the torch was on the point of going out and he made a dash for it, and swung it once again into a faint blaze.
As he stepped around he noticed something else that added to his dismay. In his fall he had twisted his left ankle, which gave a twitch that made him shut his teeth hard, to keep from crying out with pain.
"Oh, I hope I haven't broken it!" he muttered. "However am I going to walk on it, even if it is broken?"
In sheer desperation he commenced to climb up the wet rocks down which he had tumbled. The ankle hurt not a little, yet in his excitement the youth scarcely noticed the pain. His one thought was to get out of the cave before another landslide or earthquake occurred.
A few minutes later found Dave on the level from which he had fallen. As he scrambled over the rocks something caught the glare of the torchlight. The youth picked up the object.
"Another nugget!" he told himself. "The place must be full of them!"
But what good would these nuggets be to him or his friends if he could not get out of the mine-cave? He was deep underground and this new landslide or earthquake might bury him and the contents of the mine forever!
"I've got to get out!" he repeated over and over again. "I've got to get out somehow!"
Trying to pierce the gloom ahead, Dave swung his torch behind him. Was he mistaken, or was that a glimmer of daylight in the distance? He stumbled forward, over some loose stones, and presently came to a split in the narrow passageway.
From overhead came a faint ray of daylight! He almost felt like giving a shout of joy, so welcome was the sight. But then his heart sank once more as he realized that the thin shaft of light came from a split in some rocks which were fifty or sixty feet above his head. The walls were so steep and slippery that to scale them was utterly out of the question.
In front of Dave was now a solid wall of rock, so the youth knew that he could not get out in that direction. With a heavy heart he retraced his steps, trying to locate the opening by which he had entered the cave. But the landslide, or earthquake, had changed the surroundings to such an extent that he hardly knew how to turn to make the next move.
A youth less stout of heart than Dave might have sat down and given up the case as hopeless. But our hero was not made of such stuff. He moved on slowly, in one direction and then another, trying out what looked as if they might be passages to the outer air.
And then came another distant rumble, showing that the earthquake, or landslide, was not yet at an end. The boy held his breath, wondering if it would come closer and annihilate him. But the rumble remained at a distance, and in less than a minute passed away completely.
"Thank fortune, that didn't come here!" he murmured, and passed his hand over his forehead, upon which the thick beads of cold perspiration had gathered. He strained his ears for several seconds longer, but all around him was now as silent as a tomb.
"Oh, I must get out!" he muttered, despairingly. "I must! There must be some kind of an opening somewhere!"
Again he stumbled onward, into one passageway after another. Once the place was so narrow that he became fairly wedged fast and had all he could do to draw back. Then a sudden chill swept through his body, making his teeth chatter.
Must he give up? Was that cave to become his tomb?
The thought forced itself upon Dave in spite of his effort to take a more cheerful view of the situation. He was hemmed in—not an avenue of escape seemed open.
"I won't give up! I won't! I won't!" he muttered, half savagely, and got up from the rock on which he had sunk down to rest. Climbing around in that place where the footing was so uncertain had taken both his wind and his strength, and he was panting, and his knees shook beneath him. Only a short time had elapsed since that dreadful first shock had come, yet to the youth it seemed an age.
He looked at the torch. It had burned well down and would not last much longer. And when it was gone he would be left in total darkness!
This was a new cause for fear, and it made Dave move around faster than ever.
Suddenly he stopped short. A new sound had reached his ears—a strange, weird sound that made his flesh creep and his hair stand on end.
It was the cry of a wildcat—shrill and uncanny in that pent-up space. Slowly it came nearer, although from what direction our hero could not at first make out.
He waited behind a spur of rocks and the cry—it was more a whine of fright than anything else—came closer. Then, on a shelf of rocks but a short distance away, Dave caught sight of the beast.
It was limping along on three feet, dragging a bleeding hind leg and a bleeding tail behind it. Evidently it had been caught between the falling stones as in a trap and had pulled itself loose in a mad effort to save its life.
For the moment Dave forgot his other perils as he faced the beast. Evidently the wildcat had scented the youth, for it gave a savage cry as of defiance. Perhaps it thought that Dave was responsible in some way for the pain it was suffering.
The youth's hand was on the rocks and almost unconsciously it closed on a sharp stone about as big as his fist. Raising the stone, he took quick aim and threw it at the wildcat.
As my old readers know, Dave was a good baseball player and, at Oak Hall, had often filled the pitcher's box with credit. He threw the stone with accuracy and vigor, and it landed fairly and squarely on the head of the wildcat.
There was a weird screech, and the beast whirled around and around on the rocks, coming closer and closer to our hero. Once it clawed savagely at Dave, but he shoved the creature off before any damage was done. Then it fell down in a cleft of some rocks, where it snapped and snarled until Dave sent down a heavy boulder on top of it, thus ending its misery.
"Phew!" gasped the youth, after the excitement was over. "That was almost as bad as when we shot the mountain lioness!"
He had dropped the end of his torch, but now picked it up once more and commenced to move around as before. He proceeded blindly, not knowing in what direction to turn to reach the outer air.
"Where can the others be?" was a question he asked himself more than once. Were they, too, caught underground, or had the awful landslide carried them down into the valley and buried them?
In the course of his climbings Dave presently came to a new turn, one which had before escaped his attention. This turn led upward and gave him fresh hope. But, just as he fancied that he was getting close to the outer air, he reached a flat wall, and further progress in that direction was out of the question.
His heart sank like lead in his bosom, and he walked slowly back to the point from which he had started. How to turn next he did not know.
Half an hour passed, and Dave was almost in despair. His torch had reached its end and was on the point of going out. Then, not knowing what else to do, he set up a cry for help.
There came no reply, and he cried again. Then he pulled out his pistol and fired a shot.
The discharge of the weapon echoed and reechoed throughout the cave and brought down several small stones. Then, to Dave's intense surprise and joy, an answering shot came back.
"Who is it?" he yelled. "I am here! This way! This way!"
"Hello!" was the long-drawn-out answer, coming from some point that appeared to be over his head. "Where—are—you?"
And then, as Dave's torch gave a final flicker and went out, our hero saw a shaft of light move over the rocks above his head.
"It's Roger's flashlight!" he told himself, and then he set up another cry.
The rays of the flashlight became stronger and of a sudden they shot downward, directly in Dave's face.
"It's Dave!" came in Roger's voice. "Are you all right?"
&
nbsp; "Yes," was the ready reply. "That you, Roger?"
"Yes. Phil is with me."
"Were you hurt?"
"Shaken up a bit, that's all," replied Phil, and now Dave saw his chums standing in an opening that was about eight feet above his head.
"We had better get out of here," went on Roger, quickly. "Another landslide may bury us alive!"
"I've found the mine!" cried Dave. "I've got some nuggets from it—and a pick, a crowbar, and a broken lantern, all with your uncle's initials on them!"
"Good for you!" cried the senator's son. "Phil and I found some evidences of the mine up here—an old coat of my uncle's and some of his stakes. But we had better get out now—we can talk this thing over later."
"I can't get out down here—the passageway is blocked with rocks."
"Did you get in from below?" cried Phil. "We got in from up here."
A few words more passed, and the two boys on the upper ledge of rocks passed down a length of rope they carried, and by that means Dave was soon enabled to climb up and join them. There were no more quakes, so all began to breathe more freely. Yet they felt that it would be advisable to leave the cave-mine without delay.
"It certainly is the lost Landslide Mine!" exclaimed Roger. "Oh, how glad I am that it has been found! And how glad my folks will be to get the welcome news!" Even the peril of the present situation could not rob him of his joy over the discovery that had been made.
He and Phil had picked up several small nuggets, so that all were sure they had really discovered the lost mine.
"But they will have to be careful how they work this mine," said Dave, as he walked along with his chums. "They can't work it from below—it will be too dangerous."
"Oh, they'll find some way, don't fear," answered Roger. "As long as they know the gold is there, they'll find a way to get it."
"Where are the others?" went on Dave, as he saw daylight ahead, much to his satisfaction.
"That we don't know," answered Phil. "But we are hoping they are safe."
Dave Porter in the Gold Fields Page 18