They knew each other so well, this mother and son, that a question of this kind was easily settled between them. Though both fully realized what a task they were undertaking, it was decided that if his parents would consent Bill Tooley should be brought to their house to be nursed.
When Monk Tooley came up from the mine that evening and examined the check-board to see how the numbers to his credit compared with the tally he had kept, he became very angry, and accused the check boss of cheating him. The latter said he knew nothing about it. There were the checks to speak for themselves. He had hung each one on the peg as it came up.
"Den dey've been stolen!" exclaimed the angry man, "an' if I catch him as done it, I'll make him smart for it, dat's all."
The check boss tried to show him how perfectly useless it would be for anybody to steal another's checks. "You know yourself it wouldn't do him any good, Tooley," he said. "He couldn't claim anything on 'em, or make any kind of a raise on 'em; besides I've been right here every minute of the day, barrin' a couple when I ran inside the breaker on an errand. Then I left Job Taskar, as honest a man as there is in the colliery, to keep watch, and he said nothing passed while I was gone."
"Well," answered Monk Tooley, "I'm cheated outer three loads, and you know what dat is ter a man what's worked overtime ter make 'em, an' has sickness and doctor's bills at home. But I'll catch de thief yet, an' when I do he'll wish he'd never know'd what a check was."
As he was walking down the street after supper, smoking a pipe and thinking of his sick boy, who seemed to have grown worse since morning, and of his lost checks, Monk Tooley was accosted by Derrick Sterling, who said,
"Good-evening, Mr. Tooley. How's Bill this evening?"
"None de better fer your askin'," was the surly answer, for the man felt very bitter against Derrick, to whom he attributed all his son's trouble.
"I'm sorry to hear that he isn't any better," continued the boy, determined not to be easily rebuffed.
"Well, I'm glad yer sorry, an' wish yer was sorrier."
This did not seem to promise a very pleasant conversation, but Derrick persevered, saying,
"It must be very hard for Mrs. Tooley to keep so many children quiet, and I believe the doctor said Bill must not be troubled by noise, didn't he?"
"Yes, an' if ye'd muzzle yer own mouth de whole place would be quieter."
"My mother wanted me to say to you that if you'd like to send Bill over to our house for a few days, it's so quiet over there that she thought it would do him good, and she'd be very glad to have him," said Derrick, plunging boldly into the business he had undertaken to manage.
"Tell yer mother ter mind her own brats an' leave me ter mind mine, den de road'll be wide enough for de both of us," was the ungracious answer made by the surly miner to this offer, as he turned away and left Derrick standing angry and mortified behind him.
"That comes of trying to do unto others as you would have others do unto you," he muttered to himself. "Seems to me the best way is to do unto others as they do unto you, and then nobody can complain. I declare if I had as ugly a temper as that man has I'd go and drown myself. I don't believe he's got one spark of human feeling in him."
Monk Tooley was not quite so bad as Derrick thought him, but just at that time everything seemed to go wrong with him, and he was like some savage animal suffering from a pain for which it can find no relief. He began to repent of his ugliness to Derrick almost as soon as the latter had left him, saying to himself, "Maybe de lad meant kindly arter all."
Going back to his untidy, noisy home, he entered the house, and standing by his son's bedside gazed curiously at him. The boy was evidently growing worse each minute, as even the unpractised eye of the miner could see. He was tossing in a high fever, calling constantly for the water which in her ignorance his mother would not give him, nor did he appear to recognize any of those who stood near.
"I fear me his time's come," said one of the neighbor women, several of whom, attracted by curiosity, came and went in and out of the house.
Although the remark was not intended for his ears, Monk Tooley heard it, and apparently it brought him to a sudden determination. Without a word he left the house and walked directly to that of the Sterlings. Entering the open door-way without the ceremony of knocking, which was little practised in that colliery village, he found the family gathered in their tiny sitting-room, Derrick poring intently over a plan of the old workings of the mine, Helen reading, and their mother sewing.
Bowing awkwardly to Mrs. Sterling, he said, "Derrick tells me, missus, dat you're willin' to take my poor lad in and nuss him a bit. His own mither has no knowledge of de trade, an' he's just dyin' over yon. If yer mean it, and will do fer him, yer'll never want for a man to lift a hand fer you and yours as long as Monk Tooley is widin call."
"I do mean it, Mr. Tooley, and if you can only get him here, I'll gladly do what I can for him," said Mrs. Sterling.
"I'll bring him, mum, I'll go fer him now;" and Monk Tooley, with another awkward pull at the brim of his hat, left the house.
In five minutes he was back, accompanied by another miner, and between them they bore a mattress on which lay the sick boy.
He was undressed, bathed, and placed in Derrick's cool, clean bed. Within an hour cooling drinks and outward applications had so reduced the fever and quieted him that he had fallen into a deep sleep.
Within the same time all the village knew, and wondered over the knowledge, that Monk Tooley's sick lad was being cared for in the house of the widow Sterling.
When Derrick and Paul found themselves descending the slope, together with a carful of miners, the next morning, it seemed to them a long time since they had traversed its black depths. So accustomed do the toilers of the colliery become to exciting incidents that elsewhere would furnish subject for weeks of thought and conversation, that often a single day suffices to divert their attention to something new. So it was with our two boys, in whose minds their recent adventures were already shorn of their terrors, and only thought of as something unpleasant, to be forgotten as quickly as possible. Therefore they did not speak of them as they talked together in low tones, but only of the present and the future.
"I think it's awful good of you and your mother to take Bill Tooley into your own house and nurse him," said Paul.
"Oh no," laughed Derrick, "it isn't so very good. Revenge is what we are after, and that is one way of getting it."
Hearing Bill Tooley's name mentioned between the boys, one of the miners who rode in the car with them had leaned forward to learn what they were saying. At Derrick's last remark this man started back and gazed at him curiously.
"He's got the very stuff in him to make a Mollie of," he thought. "To think he's so sly. He's got the fellow he hates into his own house, pretending that he wants to nurse him, and now he's going to take out his revenge on him. Perhaps he's going to poison him, or fix pins in the bed so they'll stick him. Anyway, I'll have to give Monk the hint of what he's up to." Then, admiringly, and half aloud, he muttered, still looking at Derrick, "The young villain!"
From the foot of the slope Derrick set off for the stable to get Harry Mule, while Paul waited for the making up of a train of empty cars, in which he was to ride to the junction near the blacksmith's shop. There Derrick was to meet him, take him to his post of duty, and tell him about opening and closing the door, and tending the switch of which he was to have charge.
In spite of the fact that he and Derrick had been friends but a single day, Harry Mule appeared to recognize his young driver, and gave him a cordial greeting as he entered the stable. At least he threw up his head and uttered a tremendous bray, which went "Haw! he-haw, he-haw, he-haw!" and sounded so absurdly like a laugh that Derrick laughed from sympathy until the tears ran down his cheeks. The mule gazed at him with a look of wonder in his big eyes, and stood so meek and quiet while his harness was being put on that Derrick thought perhaps his feelings had been hurt. To soothe them he talked to him, and told him that Paul had come down into the mine to work.
As they left the stable, and Derrick stopped to fasten the door, Harry started in the opposite direction from that in which he should have gone, and ran down the gangway, kicking up his heels and braying, as though he were a frisky young colt in a pasture instead of an old bumping-mule down in a coal-mine. Derrick ran after him, and for some time could see the reflection of the collar-lamp, which was swung violently to and fro by the animal's rapid motion. The disappearance of this light in the distance was followed by an angry shouting and a muffled crash.
Derrick was provoked that his mule should have made all this trouble, and was anxious to discover the full extent of the mischief done, but he could not help laughing when he reached the scene of confusion. The first object he saw was Harry himself, standing still and gazing demurely at him with the wondering look which was his most common expression. He was hitched in front of a string of mules which were attached to a train of empty cars, and was evidently prepared to act as their leader. The boy driver of these mules, with many muttered exclamations, was trying to disentangle their harness from the snarl it had got into, and in one of the cars stood Paul Evert, looking somewhat dilapidated and greatly disgusted.
"Hullo, Derrick!" he called out. "Where did that mule come from?"
"Why, that's Harry, my bumping-mule," answered Derrick as he came up laughing.
"Bumping-mule! I should think he was," said Paul. "He made these cars stop so quick that I was almost bumped out of 'em, and the skin's all knocked off my nose. I don't see what he wanted to come bumping along this way for."
"Why, I told him you were coming," said Derrick, "and I suppose he wanted to welcome you to the mine."
"Well, I'm sorry you told him, and—"
Just then the driver shouted "Gee up!" and Harry Mule, anxious to do his duty in his new position, started ahead so briskly as to pull the other three mules promptly into line and give a violent jerk to the cars. Losing his balance with this unexpected motion, Paul sat suddenly down in the bottom of the car he was in, and there he wisely decided to remain.
When they reached the junction, Derrick asked Paul to wait for him until he and Harry Mule had distributed the empty cars to their several destinations. Attracted by its cheerful light, Paul stepped inside the blacksmith's shop, where Job Taskar, who was hammering away as busily as usual, glanced up as he entered, but paid no further attention to him. A minute later the smith, who had just begun his day's work, and still wore his coat, pulled it off and flung it to one side. Something dropped from one of its pockets unnoticed by him as he did so, and Paul was on the point of calling his attention to it. He did not, however, because the smith's helper, a slim, dreary-looking young man, to whom nobody ever paid much attention, also noticed the falling object, and picked it up without being seen by Job. Gazing at it curiously for a moment, he restored it, as Paul thought, to the pocket from which it had fallen. In reality, he slipped it into a pocket of his own coat which lay under that of his boss.
Derrick now came back, and with him Paul went to the door that he was to tend. Just inside of it, on a platform laid above the ditch of black, rapidly flowing water, stood a rude arm-chair made out of rough boards. Above it hung a board full of holes into which several pegs were thrust. Derrick told Paul that with these pegs he must keep tally of the number of loaded cars that passed this station, and that he must always be ready to answer promptly the call of "Door." Within reach from the chair was a lever by means of which the switch was moved. Paul was told that after each door call there would come another explaining on which track the approaching cars were to go, and that he must listen carefully for it and set the switch accordingly. After showing him the large oil-can from which he might refill his lamp, Derrick bade him good-by and returned to his own work.
This morning passed much more pleasantly to the young mule-driver than the first one had. Not only did Tom Evert greet him cordially, and thank him for what he had done for Paul, but Monk Tooley gave him a gruff "Mornin', lad," and most of the other men spoke pleasantly to him, as though to atone in a measure for his previous suffering. Above all, he occasionally had to pass Paul's station, and the mere sight of his faithful friend leaning on his crutch and holding open the door was a source of joy.
As Paul had much spare time on his hands, he occupied it in becoming acquainted with his surroundings, and was especially interested in the curious markings on the black slate walls of the gangway near his door. Many of these were in the form of exquisite ferns, others of curious leaves such as he had never seen, quaint patterns like the scales and bones of queer fishes, or the ripplings of water on a smooth beach. In one place he found tiny tracks, as though a small bird had run quickly across it, and had stamped the imprint of its feet on the hard surface.
It was Paul's first lesson in geology, and it gave him his first idea that this hard slate, and the veins of coal enclosed between its solid walls, might have had a previous existence in another form. He pondered upon the length of time that must have passed since those ferns grew, and since that running bird made those footprints, and finally concluded to ask Derrick if he knew.
At noon, after Harry Mule had been sent jingling to his stable, Derrick rejoined his friend, and they ate lunch together. As they talked of the strange markings on the walls, and Derrick confessed that he knew no more concerning their age than Paul, the latter suddenly paused, and with a slight gesture directed attention to something in the roadway.
Looking in the direction indicated, Derrick saw, sitting bolt-upright on its hind-legs, and gazing steadily at them, an immense rat. He was quite gray, and evidently very old; nor did he seem to be in the least bit afraid of them.
"Doesn't he look wise?" whispered Paul.
"As wise as Socrates," answered Derrick.
Not having had Derrick's education, Paul did not know who Socrates was, but the name pleased him, and he said it over softly to himself—"Socrates, Soc, Socrates. That's what I'm going to call him, Derrick—'Socrates.' I've seen him round here two or three times this morning, and every time he's sat up just like that, and looked as if he knew all that I was thinking about. I believe he could tell how old the ferns are."
"I don't believe they're as old as he is," replied Derrick, laughing.
The rat did not seem to like this, for at Derrick's laughter he gave a little squeak and darted away, disappearing beneath the door.
Within five minutes Paul pointed again, and there sat the rat in precisely the same position as before.
"Perhaps this is what he wants," said Paul, throwing a bit of bread towards the rat. Approaching it cautiously, the beast first smelled of it, and then seizing it in his mouth again darted beneath the door. Several times did he thus come for food, but he always carried it away without stopping to eat even a crumb.
"He must have a large and hungry family," said Derrick.
"Or else it isn't his dinner-hour yet, and he is waiting for the proper time to eat," laughed Paul.
Always after this Socrates the rat was a regular attendant upon the boys at lunch-time, and he never failed to receive a share of whatever they had to eat. Often at other times, when no sound save the steady gurgle of the black water beneath him broke the tomb-like silence of the gangway, Paul would see the little beady eyes flashing here and there in the dim lamplight, and would feel a sense of companionship very comforting to his loneliness. At such times Paul would talk to the rat about the queer pictures on the walls, and ask him questions concerning them. For hours he talked thus to his wise-looking companion, until he began to believe that the rat understood him, and could really answer if he chose.
Sometimes when he was asked a question he could not answer, he would reply, "I don't know, but I'll speak to Socrates about it"; and at the first opportunity he would explain the whole difficulty to his gray-whiskered friend. Frequently, by thus thinking and talking the matter over, he would arrive at some conclusion, more or less correct, and this he would report as "What Socrates thinks."
At noon that day Monk Tooley, as usual, ate his lunch and smoked his pipe with Job Taskar in the blacksmith's shop; but he was very quiet, and not inclined to be talkative as was his habit. When he left, the blacksmith's helper slipped out after him, and saying, "'Ere's summut I think belongs to you, Mr. Tooley," handed him three bits of wood, on each of which was deeply scored M. T.
"My lost checks!" exclaimed the miner. "Where'd yer get 'em, Boodle?"
"They dropped out hof Taskar's pocket when 'e flung hoff 'is coat this mornin', and hi picked 'em hup unbeknownst to 'im."
"So he's de one as stole 'em, is he?" began the miner in a passion. Then, changing his tone, he added, "But never mind, Boodle; of course he only took 'em for de joke, and we'll say no more about it. Yer needn't mention havin' found 'em."
"Hall right, Mr. Tooley, hit shall be has you says," replied the helper, meekly, though he was really greatly disappointed at this turn of affairs. He disliked as much as he feared his boss, and had hoped that this little incident might lead to a quarrel between him and the miner whose lost property he had just restored.
Monk Tooley went back to his work muttering to himself, "All dis means summut; but we'll just lie low a bit, and mebbe Body-master an me'll have a score ter settle yet."
The Young Sleepers had been so badly demoralized by the incidents following their attempt to extract a treat from Derrick, and especially by the mishap of their leader, that they had not the courage to repeat the experiment. Derrick and Paul therefore left the mine that evening without being molested. They took pains, however, not to be very far behind two brawny pillars of strength in the shape of Tom Evert and Monk Tooley when they reached the foot of the slope.
Before going home Monk Tooley walked with Derrick to the Widow Sterling's, to inquire after his boy, and was much pleased to learn that he was getting along nicely.
"It lightens my heart ter hear yer say dat, missus," he said to Mrs. Sterling, "an' it's not one woman in ten thousand would do what yer doin' fer my poor lad."
"Derrick proposed it," said Mrs. Sterling, with a mother's anxiety that her son should receive all the credit due him. "Without his help I'm afraid I should not have been able to invite Bill to come here."
"He's a fine lad, missus," replied the miner, "an' if de time ever comes dat I can serve you or him, my name's not Monk Tooley if I don't jump at de chance."
After sitting a while with Bill, and doing what lay in his power to make him comfortable, Derrick again got out his father's plans of the old workings of the mine, and pored over them intently. Finally he exclaimed, "It's all right; I am sure of it!"
"What are you so sure of, my son?" asked his mother, looking up from her work.
"Something I have been trying to find out for Mr. Jones, mother, but he does not want a word said about it; so I must keep the secret to myself, at any rate until after I have seen him."
"Seems to me that you and Mr. Jones have a great many secrets together. You really are becoming quite an important young man, Derrick."
Although Derrick only smiled in reply, he thought to himself that his mother was about right, and hoped others would take the same view of his importance that she did.
Selecting some tracing-paper from among the things left by his father, the boy made a tracing from the plan he had been studying. He followed all the lines of the original carefully, except in one place where the plan was so indistinct that he could not tell exactly where they were intended to go. Being in a hurry, and feeling confident that they should be continued in a certain direction, he drew them so without verifying his conclusions.
When he had finished he left the house, and went directly to that of the mine boss, taking the tracings he had just made with him.
Mr. Jones was expecting Derrick that evening, and was waiting somewhat impatiently for him. When the boy at last arrived he was taken into the library, where, as soon as the door was closed, the mine boss asked:
"Well, Derrick, have you heard anything more about the meeting?"
"Not a word, sir."
"To-morrow is the 27th, you know."
"Yes, sir, I know it is."
"And my fate, and perhaps yours too, may be decided within twenty-four hours from now."
At this Derrick started; he had not realized that he was in any particular danger.
"Do you think, sir, they would pay any attention to a boy like me?" he asked.
"I certainly do," replied the mine boss. "They would pay attention to anybody or anything that stood in their way, or seemed likely to interfere with their plans. I am afraid, from what Job Taskar said the other day, that they consider your presence in the mine as dangerous to them. I am sorry that my liking for you, and efforts to promote your interests, should have placed you in such an unpleasant position. If you like I will try and get you a place as errand boy in the main office of the company, where you will be in no danger."
"Oh, no, sir!" exclaimed Derrick. "Please don't think of such a thing. I'd rather take my chances with the Mollies in the mine than go into an office. There I should never be anything but a clerk; while here I may some day become an engineer, as my father was. Don't you think I may, sir?"
"Yes," answered the other, smiling at the boy's earnestness, "I think any boy of ordinary intelligence and blessed with good health can in time occupy any position he chooses, if he directs his whole energy in that direction, and makes up his mind that no obstacle shall turn him from it."
"I have made a beginning, sir," said Derrick, much encouraged by these words from one who was so greatly his superior in age, knowledge, and position, and whose opinion he valued so highly.
"Have you?" asked the mine boss, with a kindly interest. "In what way?"
"I am studying my father's books, and trying to work out problems from some old plans I found among his papers. One of them is a plan of the very oldest workings of this mine, and I have brought a tracing of a part of it to show you."
"Very good," said Mr. Jones, glancing at the tracing carelessly. "I have no doubt that in time you will become a famous engineer."
Although this was spoken kindly enough, it was evident that the speaker's thoughts were far away, probably trying to devise some means for being present at the approaching meeting in the mine.
Noting this, Derrick said, "I did not bring the tracing just to show what sort of work I could do, sir, but because I think it will lead us to where we can hear what they say at that meeting."
Instantly the mine boss exhibited a new interest. "Explain it," he said.
Then Derrick told him of the old drift-mouth he had discovered, and said he felt confident that if they followed the gangway leading in from it they would reach the top of the old air-shaft into which Bill Tooley had fallen, and up which had come the voices of the Mollies at their previous meeting.
"If we could get there by this back way it would be capital!" exclaimed the mine boss. "In that case my presence in the mine would be unknown and unsuspected; whereas, if we should go in as you did, from the other end of the old gangway, we could hardly escape discovery. If that route proves practicable a great load is lifted from my mind; for, somehow or other, I must find out what these Mollies are up to. You are of course sure of the correctness of the plans?"
"My father drew them," answered Derrick.
"I was not questioning your father's accuracy; I only wanted to know if this tracing was an exact copy of the original."
"Yes, sir, it is," answered Derrick, though with a slight hesitation in his voice as he thought of the one place he had not been quite sure of. This was where the plan had been somewhat blotted and blurred, so that he could not see whether or not two lines joined each other. Having made up his mind that they ought to be joined, he had thus drawn them on his tracing. It was such a small thing that he did not consider it worth mentioning. Thus, without meaning to make a false statement, he said that his tracing was an exact copy of the original, and by so doing prepared the way for the serious consequence that followed.
Derrick was a fine, manly fellow, and was possessed of noble traits of character, but like many another boy he was inclined to be conceited, and to imagine that he knew as much if not a little more than his elders. Nor was he backward in parading his knowledge, or even of allowing it to appear greater than it really was.
In the present instance he was proud of the confidence reposed in him by the mine boss, and of the skill with which he had prepared the plan of operations they were now discussing. It really seemed to him that he was about to become the leader in a very difficult enterprise in which the other was to be a follower.
The mine boss, with a quick penetration of human character, gained by years of study and experience, suspected something of this weakness on Derrick's part, but did not consider that either the proper time or opportunity had yet come for warning him against it.
So Derrick's plan was discussed in all its details, and before they separated that night it was adopted.
In order that the mistake made by Derrick in his slight alteration of the plan of the old workings, as shown in his tracing, may be understood, a few words of explanation are necessary.
The old drift-mouth, that he had discovered almost hidden beneath a tangle of vines and bushes, was on a mountain side above a deep valley. Farther down was the mouth of a second drift, which he had not discovered, and knew nothing of. On the opposite side of the mountain was another valley, the bottom of which was on about the same level as the higher of these drifts. The old workings ran from them through the mountain, and under this valley in which the present colliery was located.
When the gangway from the upper of the two drifts had been opened as far as the valley, the vein that it followed took a sudden dip. The gangway was in consequence changed into a slope, which finally led into the workings beneath. Some time after they had been abandoned a great "break" or cave-in of the ground above there had occurred at the edge of the valley, and by it an opening was made into the lower set of workings. It was on the opposite side of the valley from this break that the new workings were now being pushed; and somewhere between it and them was the old air-shaft and the chamber that the Mollies had selected as their place of secret meeting.
Now Derrick had got hold of a plan of the lower set of these old workings which he knew nothing of, and thought it was a plan of the upper set, which in reality only extended to the edge of the valley. He knew that the upper drift-mouth was on about the same level as the top of the old air-shaft, and thought he had a plan showing that the two were connected. He reasoned that by entering the old gangway at the break, and following it under the valley, they would not only save distance, but would be conducted directly to the top of the air-shaft which they wished to reach. By the joining of those two lines at the blurred place on the plan it was made to conform so perfectly to this theory that he felt satisfied his conclusions were correct, and consequently made his confident statements to Mr. Jones.
The latter had been connected with the Raven Brook Colliery but a few months, and knew nothing of its old and abandoned workings, not yet having found time to study their plans or explore them. He did know, however, that Mr. Sterling had been one of the company's most trusted engineers, and that Derrick had long been interested in poring over and tracing his father's plans of these very workings. When, therefore, he had carefully examined the tracing that the boy had made, and now assured him was an exact copy of the original plan, and found that it showed a system of galleries by which the top of the air-shaft might be gained from the break, he had no hesitation in saying that they would make the attempt to reach it from that direction. Had he sent for the original plan he would have quickly discovered Derrick's error. He thought of doing this, but did not, for fear of wounding the lad's feelings by appearing to mistrust him.
It was arranged between them that Mr. Jones should leave the village on the afternoon of the 27th, as though bound on some distant expedition, and have it understood that he might possibly be absent all night. An hour before sundown he was to be at the break, prepared to explore the old gangway to which it gave entrance. Here Derrick was to meet him, after having left the mine an hour earlier than usual, gone home for supper, and told his mother that he should be out late on some business for the mine boss.
This plan was successfully followed, without suspicion being aroused, and the young mine boss met his boy companion at the appointed time and place. They both had safety-lamps, and each carried a small can of oil, for they did not know how long they might have to remain in the mine.
In the break they found a rickety ladder that had been placed there for the use of the village children, who were accustomed to come here with baskets, and in a small way mine coal for home use from the sides of the old gangway. Descending this, they lighted their lamps at the bottom, and entering the black opening began to follow the path marked out on Derrick's tracing.
For some distance the way was comparatively smooth, and they made rapid progress. Then they began to encounter various obstacles. Here a mass of rock had fallen from the roof, and they must clamber over it. In another place a quantity of waste material had so dammed a ditch that for nearly a quarter of a mile the gangway was flooded with cold, black water, through which they had to wade. It was above their knees, and, filling their rubber boots, made them so heavy as to greatly impede their progress. In several places where the old timber props had rotted out, such masses of rubbish choked the gangway that they were compelled to crawl on their hands and knees for long distances through the low spaces that were still left. Once they were on the point of turning back, but animated by the importance of their errand they kept on, cheering each other with the thought that they would not be obliged to come back this same way in order to leave the mine.
During the earlier portion of the journey, as they encountered these obstacles, the mine boss urged, almost commanded, Derrick to go back and leave him to continue the undertaking alone. In spite of some faults the lad was no coward, and he begged so earnestly to be allowed to keep on that the other consented, on condition that no greater danger presented itself.
At length they had overcome so many difficulties that the road behind them fairly bristled with dangers, and the young man felt it would be an act of cruelty to send the boy back to encounter them alone.
Now and then, as they crawled over piles of fallen debris, and there was but little space between them and the roof, the flames within their safety-lamps burned faint and blue, and they breathed with great difficulty. The mine boss knew they were passing through spaces filled with the deadly "fire-damp," and he urged Derrick to make all possible haste towards more open places where they could keep below its influence.
They passed through a door in a fair state of preservation, but fairly covered with the pure white fungus growth of glistening frost-like sprays, which in the mine are called "water crystals." Everywhere were the signs of long neglect and decay, and unenlivened by the cheering sounds of human toil the place was weird and awful. The very drippings from the roof fell with an uncanny splash that struck a chill into Derrick's heart. Long before they reached the end of their journey he regretted having planned and proposed it; but he bravely kept his fears and regrets to himself, and plodded sturdily on behind his companion. As for the latter, his thoughts were also of a most dismal character. He realized even more fully than Derrick the dangerous position in which they had placed themselves, and felt that his experience should have warned him against such an undertaking.
Meantime those who were to meet in the old chamber at the bottom of the air-shaft were already gathered together, and were earnestly discussing the affairs of their order. Job Taskar, as presiding officer, made a long speech. In it he denounced the mine boss for discharging several of their members, and refusing to take them back, though petitioned to do so by a large number of those who remained at work. He also charged him with placing a spy in the mine in the person of Derrick Sterling, and of having removed the son of one of their most prominent members to make room for him. At this point he looked steadily at Monk Tooley.
"Don't yer say nothin' agin Derrick Sterling," growled that miner, "fer I won't hear ter it. He's doin' fer my lad this minute what dere isn't anoder man in de meetin' er in Raven Brook Colliery, nor I don't believe in de State, would ha' done in his place."
"Do yer know what he's doing it for?" interrupted another member, springing to his feet. "No, yer don't, an' yer can't make a guess at it; but I can tell yer. It's for revenge, an' nothing else. I heerd him say it his own self to Paul the cripple, coming down the slope, only yesterday morning. 'I'm taking out my revenge on him,' says he; them's his very words."
"All right," replied Monk Tooley, "if yer heerd him say it, den he's doin' it fer revenge, and it's de biggest kind of revenge I ever knowed of a man or a boy ter take out on anoder. Do yer know dat he's give up his own bed ter my Bill, an' dat he sets up nights awaitin' on him an' a-nussin' of him? No, yer don't know nothin' about it, an' I don't want ter hear anoder word from yer agin him. I'm his friend, I am."
An awkward silence followed this announcement, for the members thought that perhaps if Monk Tooley were Derrick Sterling's friend, he might also be a friend of the mine boss, whom they had almost decided should be put out of the way.
The silence was finally broken by Job Taskar, who asked sarcastically if Monk Tooley knew who stole his three checks from the check-board two days before.
"Yes, I do," answered the miner, promptly.
"Then you know it was this same sneaking boss's pet, Derrick Sterling."
"No, I don't."
"I tell you I saw him do it!" cried Job, in a rage. "Him and the hunchback went up to the board together, and when the boss stepped away, so they thought nobody wasn't looking, the pet slipped 'em into his pocket. I saw it with my own eyes."
"An' I tell yer yer lie!" shouted Monk Tooley. "Here's de checks, an' dey come outen yer own pocket, yer black-hearted old scoundrel!"
At these astounding words Job Taskar sprang towards Monk Tooley with clinched fists, as though to strike him, and all present watched for the encounter in breathless suspense.
Just then the door behind them was pushed open, and standing on its threshold they saw the mine boss and Derrick Sterling.
At this startling apparition of the last two persons in the world whom they would have expected to see in that place, the assembled miners remained for some moments motionless with astonishment. Having stationed a trusty sentinel at the end of the gangway nearest the new workings, who was to give them instant warning of the approach of any outsider, they imagined themselves perfectly safe from interruption. They had not considered the possibility of an approach from the rear through the abandoned workings, for they were generally believed to be impassable owing to deadly gases and the quantity of material that had fallen in them. Thus the unannounced appearance of the very persons whose fate they had just been discussing seemed almost supernatural, and a feeling of dread pervaded the assembly.
On the other hand, Mr. Jones and his companion were equally, if not more greatly, dismayed. Having approached the door during a momentary silence among the miners, they had not been warned by any sound of what they should find beyond it. Thinking that they were upon an upper level, and separated from their enemies by many feet of solid rock, they suddenly found themselves in their very midst.
At the first view of what was disclosed by the opening door, Derrick uttered a little frightened cry, and involuntarily drew back as though about to run away. It was only a momentary impulse. In an instant his courage returned, the hot blood surged into his face, and stepping boldly forward he stood beside the mine boss, determined to share whatever fate was in store for him.
Among the Mollies the first to recover from his stupefaction was Job Taskar, who crying "Here they are, lads! Now we've got 'em!" made a spring at the mine boss, with clinched fist still uplifted, as it had been to strike Monk Tooley.
The black muzzle of a revolver promptly presented to his face by the steady hand of the young man caused him to stagger back with a snarl of baffled rage. Taking a couple of steps forward, which motion Derrick followed, and standing in full view of all the Mollies, with the revolver still held in his hand where it could be plainly seen, the mine boss said:
"My men, I want you to excuse this interruption to your meeting, and listen to me for a few minutes. I think I know why you are thus assembled in secret. It is to decide upon some means of getting rid of me and of my young friend Derrick Sterling. You have been taught by this man that we are your enemies, and are working against your interests. Let me give you a few facts that will serve to show who are your real enemies, and who are your true friends.
"Job Taskar is, I believe, your Body-master and leader. He had told you that this lad is a spy, sent into the mine to discover your secrets and work against you. He hates Derrick Sterling. Why?
"A few years ago Job Taskar was blacksmith to a distant colliery in another district. This lad's father was engineer in the same mine. Taskar was paid by the men for sharpening their tools, so much for each one. They were compelled to go to him by the rules of the colliery. He so destroyed the temper of the drills and other tools brought to him as to make them require sharpening much oftener than they would if he had done his work honestly. He was thus stealing much of the miners' hard-earned wages. Mr. Sterling found this out, procured Taskar's discharge from the works, and had an honest man put in his place. When the same gentleman found the same dishonest blacksmith working in this mine he warned him that if he caught him at any of his old tricks he would have him discharged from here. Now Taskar hates that engineer's son, and wants to have him put out of the way. Do you wonder at it?
"He wants me removed for a much more simple reason. It is that he would like to be mine boss in my place. This would so increase his influence in your society that he might in time be made a county delegate, and live without further labor upon money extorted from hard-working miners."
At this point the members glanced uneasily at each other. They were amazed at the knowledge showed by the mine boss of their affairs.
"Now, my men, a few more words and I am through," continued the speaker. "In regard to those of your number whom I discharged, and refused to take back, although petitioned to do so, you know who they are, and I needn't mention names. I will only say that they were detected in an attempt to injure the pumps and destroy the fans. Had they succeeded the colliery would have been closed, and all hands thrown out of work for an indefinite length of time. You would have been in danger from fire-damp and water. Probably some lives would have been lost. They were unscrupulous men, and had they succeeded in their villainy you would have been the greatest sufferers.
"As for you, sir," he said, sternly, turning to Job Taskar, "I have long had my eye on you, and have come to the conclusion that this mine and all employed in it would be better off if you should leave it. I therefore take this opportunity to discharge you from this company's service. If after to-night you ever enter this mine again it will be at your peril."
The man was too thoroughly cowed by the boldness of this proceeding to utter a word, and when the young mine boss, saying "Come, Derrick," and "Good-evening, men," suddenly stepped outside the door and closed it, he stood for an instant motionless. Then with a howl of "Stop 'em! Don't let 'em escape!" he tore open the door and sprang into the gangway beyond. It was silent and dark, not even a glimmer of light betraying the presence or existence of those who had but that moment left the chamber.
For a brief space the man stood bewildered, and then began to run towards the door that opened into the new workings. Several of the miners followed him until they came to where their sentinel stood. He, watchful and on the alert, as he had been ever since they left him there, was greatly surprised at their haste and the impatient demands made of him as to why he had allowed two persons to pass. Of course he stoutly denied having done so, and declared he had seen no living being since taking his station at that place.
"Then they're back in the old workings, lads, and we'll have 'em yet," cried Job Taskar. "They can't get out, for the gangway's choked beyond. They must have been hid yonder near the place of meeting since lunch-time, waiting for us, and they're hid now, waiting till we leave, so's they can sneak out. But they can't fool us any more, an' we'll get 'em this time."
With this the man, fuming with rage and disappointed hate, turned and retraced his steps up the gangway, followed by four of his companions. The rest of the Mollies, feeling that no more business would be transacted that evening, and having no inclination to join in the human hunt, dispersed to different parts of the new workings, or went up the slopes to the surface. Monk Tooley stayed behind, not for the purpose of joining in the pursuit of the mine boss and his companion, but with a vague idea of protecting Derrick from harm in case they should be caught.
Led by Job Taskar, the four Mollies eagerly and carefully explored every foot of the gangway, and even climbed up into several worked-out breasts at its side, thinking the fugitives might be hidden in them.
After surmounting several minor obstacles, they finally came to one that was much more serious. It was a mass of fallen debris that filled the gangway to within a couple of feet of its roof, and extended for a long distance. Thinking that perhaps it completely choked the passage a few yards farther on, and that he might now find those whom he sought in hiding, like foxes run to earth, Taskar eagerly scrambled up over the loose rocks and chunks of coal, reaching the top while his followers were still at some distance behind.