“Well, which way?” Nelson said again.
“Don’t you think a right-handed person is more likely to turn to the right?”
“How do we know they’re right-handed?” Nelson asked practically. “This corridor to the left looks a little larger, as though it’s the main corridor and the other one just a branch.”
Shrugging, Ted turned to the left, Nelson close beside him. In a short distance they found themselves in a room from which coal had obviously been taken. They had expected that there would be numerous pillars supporting the ceiling, but now they saw that there were none. The walls of the rooms seemed to act as ceiling props.
“I suppose somebody had to figure out how thick to make the walls and how close together they had to be,” Ted observed.
“I’m glad I’m not the one who had to do it,” Nelson returned. He flashed his light all about the room, perhaps thirty feet long in its greater dimension. There was no sign of the children, although an opening at the far end of the room apparently led on into another room. “Wait, Ted.” He laid a restraining hand on his arm, as Ted seemed to take a step in that direction. “Let’s not go any farther. It isn’t going to help any if we get lost, too. I’ve already lost my sense of direction, and if we go much farther I won’t even know how far up or down we’ve come.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right,” said Ted, reluctant to give up, but knowing Nelson was right. “There’s nothing more we can do except go for help.”
“You mean the police?”
“What else?”
“I suppose you’re right, Ted. We have to tell the police, just on the chance it is the Llewellyn children. But I’m not so sure any more. It could have been adults. Adults can walk faster, and if they know where they’re going, they could have got way ahead of us. I don’t see how children could have done that. At least we should have seen their light.”
“Don’t you suppose adults might have heard us shouting?”
“Maybe not, if they were far enough ahead. Anyway, why should they answer? They didn’t need help.”
“Wouldn’t it sound like maybe we needed help?”
“Hm—well, I suppose they would have answered, if they heard us, and if they were here for a legitimate purpose. But just suppose they were up to no good. Then they wouldn’t have answered, that’s sure. After all, what would adults be doing in an abandoned mine?”
“Maybe they’d like to ask us the same question.”
They returned to the point where the corridor divided, and Ted shouted again just for luck. Hardly had the reverberations quieted down when a small voice answered, almost at his elbow:
“Here we are.”
Nelson turned the light down, and they saw the two children crouching in a little hollow against the wall, just around the turn to the right. They did not seem frightened, though they smiled a little doubtfully.
“Didn’t you hear us calling you before?” asked Ted, as the children left the wall and joined them.
“Yes,” Joyce answered. Though the girl and boy were about the same size, she made it clear by taking the lead that she was the older of the two. “But we didn’t know who you were.”
“I thought you were ghosts,” Johnny explained. “I mean, at first I thought that.”
“Mother told us there aren’t any ghosts,” Joyce went on, “but Johnny thought maybe you were a new kind that Mother didn’t know about yet.”
“Where’s your light?” asked Nelson suddenly.
“We don’t have any light,” Joyce returned. “It was awfully dark. That’s why we thought we’d better answer you.”
Ted and Nelson looked incredulously at the small girl and boy. It seemed impossible that they could have come this far in what was obviously almost pitch dark, and yet that was exactly what happened.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ted decided. They would all feel better when they were out of this darkness. Even Nelson’s flashlight didn’t seem as bright as it did before, and feeling their way back to the surface, even though there was no possibility of losing their way, was not appealing.
Nelson took Johnny’s hand and led the way, while Ted took Joyce’s hand and followed a few steps behind.
“Why did you go into the mine, Joyce? You’re not allowed to play in here, are you?”
“No, but we were looking for Alice—she’s our mule.”
“Yes, I heard about Alice over the radio. Did you see Alice go into the mine?”
“No, but we thought she might be in there. And then, when we were walking through the tunnel, we thought we heard her, so we kept on going.”
“They must have heard us coming,” Nelson explained, turning his head back to Ted, “but they couldn’t tell which direction the sound was coming from. It’s tricky down here.”
Ted felt that Nelson was probably right. Surely the children, no matter how brave, would not have had the nerve to keep going into the blackness unless they felt that Alice was just in front of them.
“Alice wears a bell around her neck,” Johnny told them.
“Only the bell doesn’t always ring, if she walks very slowly,” Joyce went on.
“What made you think Alice went into the mine?” Ted inquired.
“Because she used to work in the mine before it closed down.”
“Did Alice work with your father?”
“No, we don’t have a father. He was killed in the mine.”
“Oh.” Ted was sorry he had asked this question. “Does Alice like to wander off and go back to the mine?”
“She likes to wander everywhere, I guess. Sometimes she goes to the mine, and sometimes she goes other places. But she always comes back when she gets ready, so maybe she’ll come back this time. Did you see her anywhere?”
“No, but we weren’t really looking for her. We’ll keep our eyes open from now on, and if we see her we’ll tell you.”
As they approached the mouth of the mine, they suddenly realized that they were not going to get away as soon as they thought. The storm had broken while they were down in the pits. Now the sky was nearly black, thunder pealed, and the rain was pouring down.
“What do we do, Ted?” asked Nelson as they stood at the entrance and watched the storm.
“We can’t take the children out now, that’s for sure.”
“I know, but don’t you think one of us had better go and notify the police?”
“On that slippery clay in the dark? You’d break your neck.”
“Their mother will be frantic.”
“It’s better to let people worry than it is to give them something to worry about.”
“If that’s the way you feel about it, then we’d better plan on staying all night. This rain doesn’t look like it’s going to let up very soon.”
The evening was growing more chilly, and Nelson soon removed his sweater and Ted his jacket, which they gave to the children to wear. Then there was nothing more to do except try to get a little sleep while waiting for morning.
The children had no objection. They curled up on the floor of the corridor, where they soon dropped off to sleep. Sleep was more difficult for Ted and Nelson, who found themselves growing colder, and walked about or occasionally did jump-ups to try and keep warm. The children seemed comfortable enough, though, and oblivious to the hard ground.
The rain had settled down to a steady downpour, and there was no use thinking about leaving before daybreak.
“Well, Ted,” Nelson observed, “I’d say you’ve got a good start on your story already.” He nodded back toward the children.
“I guess so,” Ted agreed, “but where does it go from here? We’ve got some digging to do when we get out of this mine in the morning.”
“I thought you dug in a mine,” Nelson said, and ducked a jab from Ted.
Then they sat down with their backs against the wall, and dozed off a little.
CHAPTER 3.
THE RETURN OF ALICE
THE storm ended before dawn. Ted was the first to aw
aken, feeling cramped and still tired. By the time he had moved around a little Nelson was also awake, denying that he had even been asleep.
“Oh, I may have closed my eyes a little,” he admitted. Then he got up, grimacing at his stiff muscles.
It seemed a shame to wake the children, but Ted felt they should be on their way as soon as possible. If the search for the children had been called off during the storm, it would be renewed with the return of daylight.
Nelson agreed it was a good idea, especially as there was nothing for breakfast and they had all missed last night’s dinner.
So the children were aroused and led down the hillside toward the car. The clay footing was treacherous after the rain, but they were able to pick their way around the worst spots, and reached the car safely.
“Now for home,” said Nelson, starting the car, “but which way is home?”
Joyce indicated the road ahead, and Nelson followed it until she told him to turn off. She pointed out their house just ahead of them. They had driven perhaps a mile altogether, but Nelson figured that it was probably more than that over the hills, the way the children had apparently come.
The Llewellyn place wasn’t exactly a farm. It had been a farm at one time, but probably proved unprofitable, and had been divided into several portions, while the men turned to mining instead. The house was quite a way from its closest neighbor, and, though old, looked as though an attempt had been made to keep up appearances.
As the car turned in, a woman came to the door. The children jumped from the car and ran to their mother; their first questions were about Alice. Mrs. Llewellyn shook her head.
“No, Alice hasn’t come back yet. I thought perhaps she was with you. But I’m sure she’ll be coming home today.”
Joyce and Johnny accepted this optimistic prediction, and were satisfied for the time being. Then, holding her children’s hands, Mrs. Llewellyn came toward the car. Ted and Nelson got out of the car, and Ted made the introductions.
“I’m surely grateful to you two young men,” said Mrs. Llewellyn. “I was worried, of course, but perhaps not quite as worried as I might have been. My children are unusually self-reliant for their age, and I felt sure they’d have sense enough to find some shelter when they saw the storm approaching.”
“The storm was no problem,” Ted returned. “The mine was a good enough shelter from that.” On the way home Johnny had tried to make Ted agree to say nothing about the mine to his mother, but Ted had made no such promise.
“The mine?” said Mrs. Llewellyn questioningly, turning to her children. “You know you’ve been forbidden to go there, but I suppose with the storm it couldn’t be helped. You stayed right by the entrance?”
The children hung their heads, and Nelson felt she might as well know the worst. “They were quite a way in, down to the first branch anyway.”
“Children!” Mrs. Llewellyn exclaimed in alarm. Obviously, Joyce and Johnny would hear about this later. “Well, I know everyone’s hungry. Come on into the house and I’ll make pancakes.”
Feeling that it would be rude to refuse her offer, her guests followed her inside. After phoning the police to call off the search, Mrs. Llewellyn set to work in the kitchen. Ted and Nelson were invited to wash up and did their best to clean up, knowing they would have to do something more about their clothes later. Then they all sat down to the table and made short work of the huge pile of pancakes. When Joyce and Johnny had swallowed the last bite, they asked to be excused.
“But don’t go off the property,” Mrs. Llewellyn instructed them, and they promised, then ran outside.
“That mule!” said their mother with a sigh. “That’s what they’re after, of course. They won’t be satisfied until Alice comes back, and I must admit that I miss her, too. We think Alice is unusually intelligent, and of course the children like to ride on her.”
“I don’t see how she could be very intelligent,” Nelson objected, “if she’s still anxious to go back to work in the mines after all these years.”
“Oh, I don’t think that Alice is at all anxious to return to work. It’s simply curiosity. She wants to put her nose into everything that’s going on. And I admit she has a mule’s stubborn streak. There’s nothing you could do to make her change her mind about anything. You might prevent her a dozen times from going somewhere, and that would still be the first place she’d head when she got a chance.”
“I know some people just like that,” said Nelson with a laugh.
“Well, I’m not at all sure that Alice doesn’t think she’s a human being,” Mrs. Llewellyn remarked, “and the children certainly treat her like one.”
“Aren’t mules just a little old-fashioned, as far as mining operations go?” Ted inquired.
“It’s true there are fewer and fewer mules in the mines today, but they were very useful in the past. They’re quite sure-footed, and can handle grades that would perhaps be too steep for the ordinary car on wheels. They’re good at negotiating turns, too. If electric power is not available in some portions of the mine, you could use a mule, for gas engines are expensive and smelly and sometimes dangerous inside a mine. And they do have some intelligence. A mule doesn’t go plowing blindly into a car up ahead, the way an electric car will.”
Ted had previously explained to Mrs. Llewellyn that he was a reporter, and now he told her something about what he was trying to do. She said she would be glad to help him.
“I don’t want to appear unnecessarily nosy,” Ted assured her, “and I promise not to use your name. We’re just trying to get a picture of what is going on here.”
“I don’t mind a bit, Ted. Though I’d prefer not to have any personal publicity, I would put up with even that, if I thought it would help the children. We’re getting along all right, for the time being. We get a monthly check from the state workmen’s compensation fund. Then we have some government bonds, which I have managed to hang on to, though I’ve often been sorely tempted to sell them. My husband was well paid, while he worked, and our living expenses here are quite low. It’s the children I am thinking of: how can they get a better education, where will they go, what work can they do? I don’t see any future for them in East Walton. There’s really nothing here any more.”
“Your husband was killed in the big explosion?”
“Oh, no. He died a year—almost two years—before that. I believe that Joyce can just about remember him a little, while Johnny doesn’t remember him at all. It was just a ‘small’ accident—he was the only one who was hurt, and I don’t think it ever got into the big papers. But even a ‘small’ accident can be terribly big, when it concerns the person you love.”
“Do you blame anyone for your husband’s accident?”
“How can you blame anyone? It could have happened to anyone at any time. A little lapse in judgment, or a little mistake in engineering, and then it happens. I know that’s how my husband would want me to look at it.”
The telephone rang, but it was in another room, and Ted and Nelson couldn’t hear the conversation. Soon Mrs. Llewellyn returned to the room smiling.
“They’ve found the mule. I must tell the children.” She went to the door and called, “Joyce, Johnny! Alice is coming home.”
The children were overjoyed at the good news.
“Where was she?” asked Joyce eagerly.
“She was across the river. So you see, Joyce, she was never anywhere near the mine at all.”
“No, Mother,” said Joyce.
“Across the river, imagine that,” said Mrs. Llewellyn, turning to the others. “That means she had to go way down to the bridge, and cross it and come up the other side. She could never have made it under ordinary circumstances. Someone would be sure to notice her and stop her. But I suppose that with the storm, traffic was lighter and she was able to slip across the bridge. You know what this means, Joyce. We’ll have to keep Alice tied up after this.”
“Oh, no, Mother, please don’t tie her up. She hates it so much.”
“We’ll watch her better next time,” Johnny cried.
“Well, we’ll see. I do hate to tie her,” she explained to the others, “because she resents it so. But the children can’t be relied on to close the gate.”
“We will, from now on,” Joyce pledged, and Johnny agreed.
“I suppose we ought to be going, Ted, shouldn’t we?” asked Nelson, rising from the table.
“Oh, no, you have to wait to see Alice,” Joyce protested.
“How soon will Alice be here?” Ted inquired.
“It shouldn’t be more than ten or fifteen minutes. Mr. Stevens is bringing her home in his truck. If she had to walk, it would be a good deal longer than that. She always comes back, but in her own good time.”
Ted remembered the night’s fierce storm. “I wonder what Alice did in the rain? Or wouldn’t she have minded it?”
“Oh, I don’t think Alice would like a storm. But she wouldn’t let a little thing like that interfere with whatever it was she wanted to do.”
“Across the river,” Nelson mused. “Would that be in West Walton?”
Mrs. Llewellyn laughed. “That’s a local joke. You see, West Walton is one of those places that never really existed. It was planned, and even laid out, at the same time as East Walton. I suppose that under ordinary circumstances East Walton would have expanded a little, and crossed the river. But it never did. For some reason the bridge was never built at East Walton at all. There’s one miles below, which you undoubtedly crossed, and then there’s a railroad bridge several miles upstream. I don’t know whether it was an engineering, economic, or political difficulty, but East Walton never got its bridge. So that was the end of West Walton as well.”
“Then West Walton was just a dream?”
“I suppose you’d call it a dream, Nelson, but there are still people who have big plans for West Walton. A promoter has a development all laid out.”
They were all outside when the red truck drove into the yard. Mr. Stevens got out, and led Alice, with her bell tinkling, down the ramp from the truck.
Then Mr. Stevens was introduced. He was a red-faced, good-natured farmer from across the river.
The Abandoned Mine Mystery Page 2