BORNE SKYWARD ON A SKIP
"HE'S gone through the hole! Call the captain! Where is he?"
"I saw him on the sub-level above a minute ago," cried a brakeman, running up the ladder to summon the mine captain.
The latter was on hand, it seemed less than a minute later, and behind him came Bob Jarvis.
"What is it?" shouted the captain before he had reached the scene.
"Tally-man and dumper gone down through the hole there."
The captain started in amazement.
"How did it happen?" he demanded excitedly.
"I don't know. He just went through, that's all."
"Who—who was it?" stammered Bob.
"Steve Rush."
Jarvis uttered a half articulate cry and began to let himself down into the opening. The mine captain grabbed him.
"You'll be killed," he said sternly, dragging the lad back to the platform. "You cannot help your friend by going through that way."
The captain opened the door leading into the skip shaft and ran down the ladder. His quick glance took in the broken-down supports, but what he did not see was that the planking beneath the post had been sawed part way through. There was no planking there to see.
There were no signs of Steve on the platform below. The captain hurried back.
"Jarvis, run to the telephone on this level, and tell each level below to look for the body of a man who fell through the shaft."
Bob started on a run. Despite his pluck, Bob Jarvis was trembling from head to foot.
"He's dead, he's dead!They'vedone it. But how? No, it is impossible. They couldn't be to blame for that. It was an accident."
Word came back that there was no one in the shaft.
"Who opened the hole?" asked Bob.
"It is an old trap that has been closed for years. It simply caved in, that's all. Order the timber-men to put in a new piece and some fresh supports. Telephone to the top and find out if they have heard anything there."
No one seemed really to know what to do. All believed that Steve Rush had been dashed to death.
"Did—did he fall on a skip?" asked Bob in a trembling voice.
"I am afraid that is what has happened," replied the mine captain. "I am waiting to hear from the surface and if they have seen nothing of the body, we will examine the shaft all the way up."
Bob groaned and, walking over, leaned heavily against the partition.
Steve's fall had been so sudden that he had no time even to utter a cry. The blow that he had given the catch on the tram car had been too much for the sawed support under the old trap. The support had collapsed under his weight and Rush had dropped through the opening.
He shot down feet first to the platform below, bounded off and dropped into the shaft itself.
Something caught and lifted him through the air at a frightful rate of speed. Steve had been caught by the ore skip, and was being borne to the surface nearly two thousand feet above. The lad had by this time lost consciousness, for the shock when the skip caught him had been a heavy one. It seemed as if it must have broken every bone in his body.
On roared the skip with its human burden. The car shot out into the daylight, then darted up the fifty-foot shaft that towered above the opening to the mine.
Reaching the top, its burden of ore wasdumped into a waiting tram car on the trestle, after which the skip dived down into the depths again.
The dump-man on the trestle caught sight of something that was not ore falling into his car. Instead of starting the car along the trestle, he sprang up on the side board.
"I wonder what that was? It looked like a human being!" he exclaimed. Then his eyes caught sight of a piece of clothing. The man tugged at the cloth, but it did not give way.
"It's a man!" he shouted, clambering over on the car and beginning to dig frantically with his hands. "Stop the skips,stopthem quick!"
But his warning came too late. A skip load of ore was dumped down on the loaded car, most of it sliding off to the ground fifty feet below. Enough remained, however, to bury the dump-man and the man he was trying to drag out.
But the dump-man was full of grit. He fought desperately and in a moment succeeded in pushing off the ore that held the body down. He was now working with frantic haste to get the other man out, knowing full well that the unfortunate one would be suffocated if he already were not dead.
By this time other men, attracted by the dump-man's cries, were scaling the trestle at a dozendifferent places. Among them was the superintendent himself, who, on his way to the dry house to put on his miner's suit preparatory to going below ground on his usual daily round, had heard the cry for help up on the trestle. The superintendent, despite his size, got to the top of the trestle ahead of any of the others and started on a run for the scene.
"What's the trouble, Collins?" he shouted.
"Man thrown up on the skip, sir."
"Is he dead?"
"I can't say, sir. I think most likely he is."
"Who is it?"
"Don't know him, but he's a young 'un. He's pretty badly banged up, so far as I can see."
Superintendent Penton threw himself to the top of the ore car and assisted in getting the man out. At first he did not recognize the limp figure as being that of Steve Rush, for the red ore had been ground into the cut and bleeding face of the lad until he was almost unrecognizable.
"Send for the stretchers. This man must be gotten to the hospital on the jump!" shouted the superintendent.
The dump-man had lifted the boy from the car, had laid him down on the trestle and with his handkerchief was wiping the dark-red ore from the lad's mouth, eyes and nose.
"He's alive, sir," called Collins. "But I reckon he won't be for very long."
Mr. Penton stepped over, after giving his orders, and looked keenly down into the pale face before him.
"What!" he exclaimed, bending close to the injured boy. "Good heavens, it's Steve Rush! This is too bad. How did it happen?"
"I don't know, sir. The first I knew about it he came out of the hopper kerflop. I jumped up to dig him out, and then I went kerflop with a load of ore on my back. Woof! It's lucky for me the car was full or I'd have been at the bottom of the heap."
Mr. Penton had picked Steve up in his arms. The burden seemed as nothing to this powerful man. And even when he reached the ladder leading down to the ground the superintendent appeared to experience no difficulty in making his way down with the heavy load he was carrying.
Steve was rushed to the hospital, followed by the superintendent himself. The lad was still unconscious. A hasty examination by the surgeon was made in the presence of the superintendent.
"Well?" Mr. Penton threw a world of meaning into the word.
"No bones are broken. There may be someinternal injury. I should judge there might be, from the fact that he is bleeding at the mouth. What happened?"
"He was thrown up by the skip. That's all I know about it now. I want to know whether or not the boy is going to die. Then I will find out how it happened."
After working over the unconscious boy for half an hour, the surgeon decided that there had been a severe concussion that might amount to a fracture. A few hours, he said, would tell the story.
"I'll be back within the hour. Let no efforts be spared to straighten the lad out, if it be possible."
Steve lay limp and pallid, his face almost as white as the sheets of the cot on which he had been placed, and there was a troubled look in the eyes of the big-hearted superintendent as he left the company's hospital and hurried to the shaft.
"Let me off at the seventeenth level," he directed, taking his place in the cage. A few minutes later found him at the chutes where the accident had occurred. Bob, pale-faced and anxious, had been placed at the tally-board and the work of the mine was going on much as usual.
"Please, Mr. Penton, is Steve badly hurt?"demanded the lad, running over to the superintendent the instant he saw him approaching.
"I fear he is, my boy. How did the accident occur?"
"We hear he was carried up on the skip and dropped on the trestle."
"I mean what happened here?"
"The boy fell through the old trap there," explained the mine captain, approaching at that moment.
"Fell through the trap?" demanded Mr. Penton in surprise.
"Yes, the old trap that was closed several years ago. The men are fixing it so a similar accident won't occur again."
"Tell me exactly what happened."
"I didn't see it. The motor-man there can tell you. He is just coming in now."
The motor-man explained that young Rush was hammering at the dump-car catch when the trap gave way beneath him and he went down. That was all that anyone below ground knew about the accident. In fact, that was all there was to tell so far as any one in the mine knew.
Mr. Penton looked grave. It was an accident that reflected on him, for the corporation looked to him to make the mine safe. He was greatly disturbed, but more on Steve's account than on his own.
The superintendent climbed down into the skip shaft and made an examination on his own account.
"Where are the supports that held up the trap?" he demanded upon his return to the platform.
"If they ain't there we must have thrown them into the shaft," explained the timber-man.
"You should have known better than that. Was it a break?"
"It was a break, all right. The thing just gave out, and that's all there was to it. But you can bet this one won't give way, not in a thousand years. It'll be here long after the old mine has caved in."
Mr. Penton did not go on with his inspection of the mine that day. He was too full of anxiety for Steve Rush. Bob had begged to be let off for the afternoon, and Mr. Penton had willingly granted his request. The lad hurried to the hospital, after having changed his clothes, and at his earnest request he was allowed to sit beside Steve. The boy could scarcely keep the tears back as he gazed down into the pale face of his companion. Bob was sure in his own mind that Steve was dying and Jarvis' eyes were large and sorrowful as he watched the surgeon working over the unconscious patient.
Mr. Penton came, remained a short time, thenwent away; he, too, convinced that Rush could not recover. Night came on, but still Bob sat beside the hospital cot, one hand slipped under the sheet clasping a hand of his companion.
"You had better go home," said the surgeon, seeming for the first time to be aware of Jarvis' presence.
Bob did not answer.
"I said, you had better go home, Jarvis."
"I want to stay," answered the boy simply.
"You can do him no good."
"When will he get better—or worse?"
"I do not look for any change before three o'clock in the morning or thereabouts, so you see it will be useless for you to remain."
"All right; I am not sleepy," and Bob turned his face toward the cot, again fixing his gaze on the face of the unconscious Steve.
The surgeon shrugged his shoulders and proceeded with his duties. The hours dragged along, but Bob never changed his position nor even moved, so fearful was he of doing something that might retard his friend's recovery. Three o'clock came and still there was no change. Another half hour elapsed. The sky was graying in the east. Steve uttered a low moan. The surgeon was at his side in an instant. He placed an ear to the boy's heart, then took his pulse, watch in hand. Bob's eyes were fixed on thesurgeon now. The latter shut his watch with a snap, then noting the pleading question in the watcher's eyes, he nodded.
"He is better. The change is coming, and unless something unlooked for occurs he should return to consciousness soon."
Bob drew a short, quick breath that was half a sob, settling down into his former watchful position.
Now the surgeon remained by the side of the cot. Occasionally he would administer a few drops of medicine. When the patient choked a little and swallowed, the surgeon would nod approvingly.
All at once Steve Rush's eyelids fluttered open. His gaze was fixed for a brief instant on the face of his companion. Jarvis held his breath.
"Bob," murmured the lad, then closed his eyes wearily.
WHAT WAS FOUND IN THE SHAFT
"THE crisis has passed," announced the surgeon in a relieved tone.
Two great tear drops rolled down Bob Jarvis' cheeks. He brushed them away and rose from the chair in which he had been sitting all night.
"I'm going home. I must get ready to go to work. If he should become worse won't you please let me know?"
"Yes," answered the surgeon, giving the boy a quick, keen glance. "He'll be all right now. No need to worry."
Bob went to his boarding place happier and more light of heart than he ever had been before.
Steve's recovery was very slow, however. All that day and the next he was too weak to talk, having lost considerable blood. Then again the shock had been greater than many men could have sustained and lived to tell about.
At the end of a week the invalid was allowed to sit up, but ten days had elapsed before it was considered prudent to permit him to dress and walk about. Bob spent all his evenings withhis companion, but they did not discuss the accident. Each lad tacitly avoided the subject.
The first day that Rush was allowed to go out of doors he walked over to Mr. Penton's office, a hundred yards away, and asked permission to see the superintendent. Mr. Penton welcomed the young man warmly.
"I am glad to see you out, Rush. You had a pretty close call, didn't you?"
"I guess so, though I do not remember much about what happened beyond a certain point."
"If you feel strong enough I wish you would tell me exactly what occurred leading up to the accident," said the superintendent.
"Oh, yes, sir; I am strong enough. I could go to work and I think I shall to-morrow."
"We'll see about that."
Steve related briefly what he knew of the accident, but his story shed no new light on the affair. He could not even guess how it had happened, beyond what Mr. Penton himself told the boy.
"There is one thing I should like to do, sir," said Steve.
"And what is that?"
"I wish you would give me permission to examine the shaft where I fell in."
"That already has been done. Something gave way, and——"
Steve smiled faintly.
"I have reason to know that something gave way," he said. "I wish I could satisfy myself, though, just how it happened."
"Of course. There is no objection to your doing so."
"I will ask Bob Jarvis to help me. He is a shrewd boy, and he may see some things that I might not notice."
"He will have to be pretty keen if he does," laughed Mr. Penton. "I cannot imagine much of anything escaping your observation. But, my lad, you have some reason for wanting to do this. What is it?"
"I want to find out how the accident occurred."
"Ah, you suspect something?"
"I do not know whether I do or not. Perhaps I am curious. Most boys have some curiosity, you know, sir."
"Go ahead, but do not try it until you are well and strong. We can't afford to have you laid up again. We need you, you know."
A faint flush stole into Steve Rush's face. He had grown to be very fond of the big-bodied, big-hearted superintendent of the Cousin Jack Mine in the few months that he had known him.
"I thank you, sir. You are very kind to me. I want to tell you how much I appreciate it all."
"Rubbish!" scoffed Mr. Penton.
On the third day following, Steve made his first trip below ground since the accident. The lad was welcomed with enthusiasm by nearly every one he met, many of whom he knew only by sight.
"I never knew I was so popular," smiled Steve, after he had looked up Jarvis, who was still at work at level seventeen.
Bob grinned.
"I reckon there are certain quarters where you are not so popular, eh?"
"I should not be surprised if that were true. But those quarters no longer exist, I understand."
"Yes; the pair have hit the trail over the mountains. What are you going to do down here to-day?"
"I am going down in the skip shaft."
Jarvis nodded understandingly.
"Mr. Penton said you might knock off and go with me."
"Did he? That's fine. I'll see the mine captain and tell him."
"I have told him already. You may come with me now, and we'll make a little examination on our own hook."
Bob dropped his shovel, and, telling the shift boss where he was going, accompanied Stevedown the ladder to the level below. There the lads looked over the platform by the tally-board, Steve pointing out where he was standing when he went through the floor.
"I never knew there was a trap there," he said, pointing to the new planking that covered the hole through which he had dropped.
"Nor I. I guess not many men in the mine knew about it. The timbers supporting it must have been rotten."
"Perhaps," answered Steve dryly. "Come on up to the sub-level; we will begin our investigation there."
Bob followed, though he did not fully understand the purpose of his companion. Rush made his way to the door on the sub-level through which the man Spooner had entered the shaft. The lad opened the door and stood peering in, holding his candle ahead of him as he did so.
"You are not going in here, are you?" questioned Jarvis.
"Yes."
"Why not go in on the level below and save this climb?"
"I have my reasons, old man. Do you see the red mud on the rungs of the ladder here?"
"Yes, I see it; but what does that prove?"
"No one has any business in this shaft andyet someone has been here rather recently, for the mud is still soft. That mud came from some one's rubber boots not so many moons ago."
"You ought to be a detective," exclaimed Bob admiringly.
"We will go down now. Be careful. This isn't a very safe place, and a misstep would take you to the surface by the route I followed two weeks ago."
Once on the platform below, the boys halted. Holding their candles above their heads, they looked about them curiously. A new post had been set in place of the old one, the latter still lying on the platform. This the boys examined carefully.
"You see, the post is in good condition, Bob. The post didn't give way, after all. I wonder how it was held up?"
"Perhaps it rested on a piece of wood placed across these two posts that project up through the floor," suggested Bob.
"Yes, that's so. I think you are right. But where is the piece? I should like to see it."
Steve was hunting here and there with his customary energy, while Bob Jarvis stood looking on, not being quite sure what he should do.
"You look about on that side, Bob. Be careful that you don't fall into the shaft. Here issawdust on the floor, but I presume the men did that when they put in the new support. Hello! I've got something."
Steve triumphantly held up a saw that he had found.
"This may mean something and it may not. We shall find out when we get back again."
Suddenly the boy uttered an exclamation.
"What is it?" demanded Bob, hastening over to the spot where Steve was pulling something from between the platform and the rock wall of the shaft. What he had found was a piece of plank from which two pieces had been split off. At the breaking point on each end they plainly saw the cut of a saw.
"Well, what do you think of that?" muttered Bob. "Is that the plank that held up the post?"
"Judging from the mark in the middle, I should say it was. Bring the old post over here."
Bob did so, and at Steve's direction placed the end of the post on the broken piece of plank. The post fitted the faint outline perfectly.
"Well, what do you think of that?" breathed Jarvis.
"That somebody has tried to make a clean job of getting me out of the way. That plank was sawed partly through so that it might not break at once, but would do so when any extra weight was thrown upon it. We must find those other pieces, Bob. Look about. I guess we'll have something to report to Mr. Penton."
Steve Triumphantly Held Up a Saw.
"Shall we say who did it?"
"We can't really say. We may have our suspicions, but unless we get more evidence we shall have to let it go as it is. I have some facts in my possession that may help us, though."
Steve got down on his hands and knees and began going over the floor with great thoroughness. He was keen and alert and his eyes glowed with resolute purpose.
"Here's one of the broken pieces," cried Bob.
"Good. See if you can find the other. We shall have our case complete in a few minutes if we keep on having such good luck."
But one piece was all that Bob was able to find, the other no doubt having been thrown into the shaft. The one found was lying at the edge of the platform near its end.
"I guess there is nothing more here for us to do," decided the lad finally. "We will take our evidence and go to Mr. Penton."
"We haven't enough to hang a dead cat on."
Steve smiled.
"We shall see," he answered. "You tuck the saw under your coat and I will carry the boards."
Entering the first cage that stopped at thislevel, the boys were quickly conveyed to the surface. Steve asked the cage-tender at the mouth of the shaft if he had seen the superintendent about the shaft, and was informed that Mr. Penton was at that moment in the dry house. He was no doubt dressing to go down in the mine.
The boys hurried to the dry house, finding Mr. Penton talking with one of the time-checkers.
"May we see you alone, sir?" asked Steve.
"Certainly. Come into my dressing room. You have some news, eh?" queried the superintendent, flashing a keen glance at them.
"We think we have, sir."
After entering the dressing room, Mr. Penton nodded for them to proceed. Steve went right to the point.
"We have been down in the skip shaft."
"On seventeen platform?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you discover anything of consequence?"
"Mr. Jarvis has a saw that we found there. It belongs to one of the timber-men, and was stolen from him the day before the accident."
The superintendent pricked up his ears at this.
"I learned that fact this morning. He doesn't know that we have the saw. We found it where it had evidently been thrown by the person who used it. And here is something else, sir."
Steve laid the broken pieces of plank on a table. Mr. Penton picked them up, turning them over in his hands, pausing when he discovered the marks of the saw, then he glanced at Steve.
"What is this?"
"It is the support that rested under the post holding up the old trap," answered the lad.
"Then—then——"
"Someone had sawed it partly through, so the support would give way and let someone else down. I happened to be the one who was let down."
The smile vanished from the eyes of the general superintendent and the lines of his face hardened perceptibly.
"How do you know this piece supported the post?"
"You will find the mark of the post on it. We fitted the post to the mark to make sure. Whoever did the job, entered the skip shaft from sub-level seventeen. I am sure of this, because I found fresh mud on the rungs of the ladder. No one is supposed to go down there, is he, sir?"
"No; no one does go down there. This is very serious. Why did not my men discover all these things?"
"I guess they did not look very sharply. The evidence was there to be found if one looked hard enough."
"Rush, you suspect someone?" said Mr. Penton sharply. "Whom do you suspect?"
"Perhaps this may answer the question," answered the lad, laying on the table a brass time check about the size of a half dollar.
"Where—where did you get this?"
"On the platform where the job was done, sir," answered Steve, directing a steady gaze at the stern face of the superintendent.
THEIR FIRST PROMOTION
"WAIT a minute," said Mr. Penton, hurrying across the hall to the office of the time-keepers.
He was gone but a few moments and when he returned there was a look on his face that Steve had never seen there before. It was a look that meant trouble for someone. The superintendent sat down, gazing out of the window at the towering shaft of the Cousin Jack Mine.
"You did not answer my previous question. I asked you whom you suspected."
"I dislike to make so serious a charge against anyone, sir, but a certain man was seen standing near the door leading down to the platform the day before I fell in. Two persons saw him."
"Who was the man?"
"The man was Spooner, sir."
"You are sure of that?"
"Sure of it according to my information."
"Well, lad, this is Spooner's time check that you have brought to me," replied Mr. Penton in an impressive voice.
"I reckon that evidence would hang a live cat," muttered Bob Jarvis.
"Yes, it is sufficient evidence to warrant my looking up the man and lodging a complaint against him. Was he alone when he was seen at the door of the shaft, or don't you know?"
"Marvin was with him, sir."
"Ah! Rush, you have done well. You are a very shrewd young man. In fact, I am proud of both of you. When we have anything of this sort on hand again I shall get you to investigate it. However, I do not believe there is another man in the mine who is wicked enough to attempt the life of a boy. There is another matter that I have had in mind for some time. That is, your advancement. You have learned fast. You already know more about the mine and its operation than a number of men who have spent the greater part of their lives below ground."
"Thank you, sir. We have tried to improve our opportunities."
"You have done so. You have done the company a great service in finding the place where the shortage occurred. I have already expressed myself on this point. After receiving my report in that case, the president of the company wrote me to reward you as I saw fit. I shall do so by promoting you. It is not much of a promotion, but it will give you an opportunity to acquaint yourselves the better with the mine andits operations. I now appoint you two boys inspectors of tracks. Your duties will be to see that the tram tracks are in perfect condition. It will keep you busy, for there are a good many miles of track in the Cousin Jack. You, Rush, will take the east half and Jarvis the west. That will take you both well over the mine. It would be simpler to divide your territory by levels, but I consider the former plan the better one for your own good. You will require some technical information that the engineer will give you. He also will supply you with maps of the trackage, which you will study carefully."
"I am very grateful," breathed Steve, his eyes lighting up.
"You're welcome, lad. I want to push you along as fast as you are ready, but you must not expect to go too fast."
"I think I have done very well as it is, sir."
"Your pay will be two dollars a day."
Twelve dollars a week! It was more money than either of the boys ever had earned before. To them it seemed a large sum of money. They were very happy and proud. Their new work was to begin on the following morning. Jarvis went back to finish his day at drifting in ore, while Steve returned to his boarding place, where he sat down and wrote a long letter to his mother, telling her of his good fortune.
In the meantime Mr. Penton set an inquiry on foot to locate Spooner and Marvin. The men had applied for work in a neighboring mine, he learned, but had failed to get employment there. Neither man had been seen in those parts since. Mr. Penton decided that they had left the range, and he was thankful for it, as it relieved him of an unpleasant duty. However, that day he made a detailed report to the president of the mining company by letter, giving the boys full credit for what they had discovered. Mr. Penton also made report of the promotion he had given them. This was afterwards heartily endorsed by President Carrhart.
Early the next morning the boys went over the mine with an assistant engineer. He gave them a long talk on tracks, Steve asking many questions as they went along. That afternoon the Iron Boys began their work, having laid out a certain number of levels that were to be visited each day. As Mr. Penton had told them, their new position took them to nearly every part of the mine, from the lowest working level to the tram tracks on the surface and far up on the trestle.
By the time that they had been at their new work for several months, each lad had proved that he was worthy of the confidence placed in him by the general superintendent.
Steve had been figuring on a problem in his department for a long time, and one day he went to the superintendent with it, or rather to learn whether the problem were a problem at all.
"I want to ask, Mr. Penton, if the expense of keeping up your motors that draw the dump cars in the mines is very great."
"I should say it is," was the prompt answer. "You see, they draw very heavy loads. Those cars of ore are not light."
"I am well aware of that. You will remember that I had a load dropped on me once," smiled Steve.
"We wear out, I should say, on an average of six motors a year. That runs into money. And the repairs on them, in the meantime, are very expensive."
"Would any arrangement that would tend to lessen the strain on the motors be of advantage to the company?"
"That is self-evident. Of course it would. What is more, relieving the cars of the strain to which they are subjected would save a few thousand dollars a year. Have you something in mind?"
Mr. Penton smiled good-naturedly on the young man who was standing before him.
"Yes, sir, I have a plan by which I think you ought to be able to save your electric motorsconsiderably and at the same time make greater speed in getting ore to the chutes."
"If you have a practical plan for doing that you will have accomplished a great deal, young man. What is your plan?"
"Well, sir, it is an engineering problem. Not being an engineer, I perhaps shall not be able to overcome all the difficulties in the way. I can tell you, though, what I think would help."
"Do so."
"I find that in most of the levels there is a considerable up grade to the chutes where the tram cars are dumped."
"That is a fact."
"Would it not be much better to have the loaded cars run down grade to the chutes? Then they would go back up the grade empty," suggested Steve half hesitatingly.
Mr. Penton gazed at him quizzically.
"Do you know, my boy, you have made a suggestion that even the keenest of our engineers evidently never have thought of?"
"I am glad if I have suggested something worth while," said Steve, with a pleased smile.
"But how do you propose to go about it? The levels are made and the tracks are laid to fit the conformation. How are you going to get over that condition?" asked the superintendent, with a twinkle in his eyes.
"As I told you, I am not an engineer."
"But you have an idea?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let's hear it."
"I have watched the trackmen grading on the railroad and I do not see why you cannot do the same thing here. You have plenty of waste dirt and rock in the mine. It is being taken out every day. Why not utilize some of it in raising the tracks at the 'rises'? That would give the cars a good start and the electric motor would not have to wear itself out getting the cars started. Continue doing this, even if you have to begin cutting the level lower down by the chutes. I am sure that that feature could easily be overcome by your engineers. In the sub-levels and new drifts you could do the same thing."
"How?"
"Cut down to them, sir, when you are drifting in. I want you to know that this is not wholly my idea. My friend Bob, in discussing the track question with me, said it was a pity that the motors had to haul their loads up hill in most instances. I got to thinking over this and out of it all came the plan I have proposed, so you see he is the one who is really entitled to the credit."
"The credit is yours. Rush, you've a great head on that slender body of yours, and it isn'tso slender, at that, judging from the ease with which you picked up a rail one day last week and laid it in place." Mr. Penton laughed. "No; not so slender as it might seem to one who did not know you. This is really a very important matter. It is a matter that I shall have to take up with the main office at Duluth. I have an idea that they will adopt your suggestion without very much delay," said Mr. Penton.
"Yes, sir."
"The engineering department reports that the inspection of tracks has never been done so thoroughly and intelligently as since you and Jarvis have been on the work. This naturally pleases me very much. It shows me that my estimate of you was correct. Have you anything else to suggest?"
"No, sir; I think not. I think that will be about enough for to-day."
The superintendent agreed with him and Steve went back to his work. Bob Jarvis was quickly acquainted with what the superintendent had said, much to the latter's gratification. In due time, the plan having been passed upon by the company's engineers at the home office, word was received at the mines that it had been adopted. The young men who had suggested it were highly commended, President Carrhart adding in his letter to Mr. Penton:
"I knew that boy Rush couldn't help but do something, with a name like his."
The work was put in progress as soon after that as the plans could be worked out, bearing in mind that the operation of the mine must not be interfered with. It may be imagined with what keen interest Steve Rush and Bob Jarvis watched the changing of the grades. They were also interested in another direction, when, one pay day soon after, they found that their salaries had been raised to fifteen dollars a week each.
Bob declared he felt like a millionaire.
"What are you going to do with all that money?" asked Steve.
"I think I shall buy some of the company's stock," answered Jarvis.
"Not a half bad idea. That is what I am going to do when I get money enough. As it is, I am sending home most of what I earn. But the money is in good hands," he smiled.
"Mine's in the bank. I am getting four per cent. interest on it, but I haven't got to where I can live on the interest I receive from it. I was figuring the other night, and at the present rate it will be twenty years before I shall be able to live on my income—my interest, I mean."
"Well, I don't want to live on my income. Iwant to be up and doing something as long as I've got a kick left in me. Cheer up, Bob, you may be a millionaire yet."
"Yes; when I have long, yellow whiskers, maybe," laughed Jarvis.
In the course of two months the new system was working to the satisfaction of everyone. Already it was being applied to the other mines belonging to the company, and even at that early day it was apparent that the Rush Gravity System, as it was called, was destined to prove a great saving to the company. The name, too, was considered unusually appropriate.
One day, a few months later, as Steve was on his rounds, he caught sight of a man in miner's costume who instantly attracted his attention. The man was rather tall and wore a full beard. Rush stopped and gazed after the fellow until he passed out of sight.
"I wonder who he is?" muttered Steve. "There is something about him—about the way he folded his hand over his mouth, that is unpleasantly familiar to me."
On the day following, while Steve was chatting with one of the shift bosses on the twelfth level, he saw the fellow again.
"Who is that man?" asked the boy sharply, pointing to the one who had attracted his attention.
"His name is Klink—John Klink."
"What does he do?"
"He is acting as a drift inspector at present, I believe."
"Klink?" mused the lad. "I don't think I ever heard the name before. Do you know where he comes from?"
"I think he comes from the San Juan Mine, over on the McCormick range. I don't know anything about him, but he seems to know his business pretty well. He is inspecting temporarily. The inspector whose place he is taking is at home sick. Klink is a boss miner."
"I must have been mistaken," thought Rush, as he proceeded along his route inspecting the tracks on that level. "But I can't get it out of my mind that I have seen the fellow somewhere before, and under unpleasant circumstances, at that."
He had, and at no distant day, he was destined to see the man under still more unfavorable circumstances.
THE VISIT OF THE OFFICIALS
FOR a week past there had been a great deal of work done in the Cousin Jack in the way of cleaning up and putting things in the best possible shape. The mine was to receive visitors. The annual inspection by prominent officials of the company was to be made, and the visitors might be looked for now on almost any day.
It was understood, also, that several New York officials were to be in the party, and every department head in the mines was ordered to leave nothing undone to have all things under his charge in perfect order.
"We are about the only ones whose work won't show," complained Jarvis.
"Why not, Bob?" demanded Steve.
"Why, a track is a track, that's all. It doesn't show all the work we have put on it. They'll just walk along on our job while they are admiring the other fellow's work."
"I think you are in error. The officials of these big corporations are all practical men. Most of them have had personal experience; some of them have not. I don't know about theNew Yorkers, but I know Mr. Carrhart has been all through the mill. He will notice everything; you see if he doesn't."
Three days after this conversation the visitors arrived. The Iron Boys were engaged in other parts of the mine and did not know of the arrival. Along in the early afternoon, however, their duties led them to the seventeenth level. Of course they were on opposite sides of the mine, but as it chanced each was heading for the chutes on that level, where their patrol would end. After a time a bobbing candle appeared far down the level. A moment later another appeared coming from the opposite direction.
Two young men came swinging along the tracks. Their step was springy and there was an alertness about them that at once attracted the observing ones. These two were Steve Rush and Bob Jarvis. They approached each other rapidly and waved their hands in greeting.
"Bob, there are the visitors," said Steve in a low tone.
"Oh, that's so; I hadn't noticed them. When did they come in?"
"I do not know. I had not seen them before."
Eight or ten men were assembled on the platform where the tally-board was located. The superintendent was holding an earnest conversationwith them, the visitors keeping up a running fire of questions and comment. They had been through part of the mine and were discussing conditions and proposed improvements.
The boys had matters of their own to discuss, so they gave little attention to the gathering, so far as the latter observed. But the lads were interested, just the same.
"I suppose most of those fellows are millionaires," said Bob, indicating the group by a jerk of his thumb in their direction.
"They are not fellows, Bob; they are gentlemen," corrected Rush.
"How do you know they are?" came back the quick question.
"It is reasonable to suppose they are. I know one of them is, for I have met him."
"Who is that?"
"Mr. Carrhart, president of the company."
"They all look like miners to me. Put a shovel in their hands and they wouldn't be at all different from us. But we mustn't be standing here doing nothing. While we are here, let's take a look at the tracks over the chutes. There is a rail a little down at the heels. I shall have to report it as dangerous. Getting a car off here blocks the whole line. I wonder when that edge broke down. It was all right when I inspected it yesterday."
Steve took out his memorandum book and made a note of the condition of the rail for immediate report to the engineering department.
While the boys were thus engaged some of the party stood looking in their direction.
"Mr. Penton, who are those young men standing over yonder?" asked Mr. Carrhart.
"They are my track inspectors. They are a pair of likely young fellows. I'll wager there isn't a another pair of their age on the range that can equal them."
At this every one of the party turned to look at the Iron Boys, who, all unconscious of the attention they were attracting, were busy with their work.
"The chances are they do not even know you gentlemen are here, so attentive are they to their work."
"Who are they, Penton? I am interested in these prodigies," laughed Mr. Carrhart.
"The taller of the two is Robert Jarvis. The other is Steve Rush, after whom the Rush Gravity System is named. You will remember, Rush suggested the change to the gravity system."
"Steve Rush?" exclaimed the president. "Why, I was going to ask you about the young man. I wish to talk with him, and the boy Jarvis, also. Rush is my find, you will remember, Penton."
"I was congratulating myself that I was his discoverer," laughed the superintendent.
"No, you will remember my sending him up to you with a letter. You know I saw that he had good material in him. He was a live wire, even then."
"I give way; the honor is yours," answered Mr. Penton.
The party was in great good humor.
"If you can spare your young friends from their duties, for a few moments, I should like to speak with them."
"Surely. Rush!"
"Yes, sir."
The lad straightened up, touching his cap immediately.
"Will you step over here, please?"
Steve strode across the tracks.
"Jarvis, you, too."
"Yes, sir."
"How are you, Rush?" exclaimed President Carrhart, stepping forward and extending a cordial hand.
"How do you do, Mr. Carrhart. I am afraid my hand is not shakeable. It is grimy with red ore."
"We will shake all the same, lad."
They did so, the president holding to Steve's hand as he gazed keenly into the manly faceof the boy, Steve returning his gaze, respectfully but steadily.
"I am glad to see you, Rush."
"Thank you, sir. And I want to thank you also for giving me the opportunity that you did. This is my companion, Bob Jarvis."
The superintendent stepped forward at that juncture, presenting the boys to each member of the party in turn. There were vice-presidents, secretaries and directors—more titles than the boys could remember. To their surprise these big men greeted them as if they were equals.
"I hear you already have made a record for yourself, Rush," said Mr. Carrhart.
"I don't know about that, sir. I am just beginning to realize that I have a lot to learn."
"I hear also that you have had some exciting experiences. You must learn to safeguard yourself, and remember another thing, make your mine safe for your men and you will always get results. You and your friend are in charge of the tracks?"
"Yes, sir."
"I am pleased to see them in such splendid condition. It is almost like riding on a rock-ballasted railroad, they are so smooth."
Bob threw his shoulders back ever so little as he heard this.
"My, but those fellows must have eyes all around their heads the way they take things in," muttered Jarvis. "No wonder they are millionaires! They can see what the fellow behind them is doing as well as they can what's going on in front. You can't beat that kind of a game."
"I hope he doesn't see that turned rail there over the chute," thought Rush.
"I noticed only one bad rail in the entire system, the one there by the chute. I see you have caught that, however."
"Well, what do you think of that?" muttered Bob under his breath. "I never heard anything like it."
"Yes, sir; but that rail has gone bad within the last twenty-four hours. It was in apparently good condition yesterday. Perhaps I did not examine it closely enough on my last inspection, though."
"No; you can't avoid those things now and then. There might have been a defect in the steel, a blow hole or something of the sort. The principal thing is not to let them get away from you. Catch the deterioration in time, before it causes more trouble—that is all we can expect of you. Gentlemen, this is the young man who invented our gravity system. Perhaps you heard the superintendent speak of it just now.And, let me tell you, he will bear watching. One of these days, if you do not keep your eyes open, he is likely to be found sitting in the chair of one of the other of you, either in Duluth, or Pittsburgh, or New York."
The gentlemen joined in Mr. Carrhart's laugh, much to Steve's embarrassment, though one would have never known, by looking at him, that he was experiencing any such emotion.
"You are doing well, very well; but do not be in too big a hurry and don't get a swelled head. It is fatal to progress."
"No, sir. If it does not get smashed, I am sure I shall be able to keep it from swelling," replied Steve, with a faint smile, bringing a laugh from the assembled company.
"Where did that accident occur?" asked the president, turning to Mr. Penton.
"Right where Mr. Gary is standing now."
The gentleman referred to, a vice-president of the company, promptly stepped back, glancing at the floor almost apprehensively. This brought another laugh from the visitors.
"Come here, gentlemen," said Mr. Carrhart, "and I will show you where this young man fell in. I do not think we should be alive now had we been through that experience."
The president threw open the door leading into the skip shaft. The others had stepped upto him, but as the skips thundered past them, leaping for the surface, faintly outlined monsters as they shot by, the members of the party instinctively drew back, casting wondering glances at the keen-faced boy who stood calmly, almost indifferently, looking into the shaft.
Mr. Carrhart was explaining to them how the accident had occurred.
"Excuse me," said Mr. Cary. "I think I should prefer to be run over by a touring car on Broadway."
"And so should I," chorused the others, with the exception of Mr. Carrhart, who smiled grimly.
A lunch had been prepared for the guests and they were to eat in the mine, on the platform by the tally-boards and the chutes. Tables were being set, and by the time the visitors had turned away from the shaft opening they were invited to be seated on the benches drawn up for the purpose.
Steve and Bob stood talking with Mr. Carrhart, the president asking many questions.
"Come, Carrhart," called one of the others.
"I will be with you in a moment. Don't wait for me. Rush, how would you like to come to headquarters at the end of your year in the mines?"
"You mean to take a position there?"
"Yes."
The lad reflected for a moment.
"Would you advise me to do that, sir?" questioned Rush, looking Mr. Carrhart squarely in the eye.
"So you are putting it up to me, are you, you young rascal?" laughed the president.
"You know best, sir."
"The question is, would you like to come into the offices?"
"I am afraid I should not be worth much there. I think, sir, that I like the activity of this life better, so long as you have asked me. It is a rough, hard life, but I am happy here and I hope to learn the business so well that in time I shall be fit for a higher position."
"I don't think there is any doubt about that, my lad. By all means remain here. I shall have an eye in your direction, as I have had ever since I sent you up here. Good afternoon, boys; the gentlemen are waiting for me."
While this conversation was in progress an Italian was making his way down level seventeen. Over his back he carried a bag, the ends of which, fashioned into a loop, had been fastened in front of him, passing around his neck. The fellow was plodding half sleepily along, his boots slopping in the water beside the track as he staggered under his heavy burden.
When near the chute a man suddenly appeared behind him, paused an instant, then walked swiftly away. A few seconds more and the Italian appeared passing the chute.
"Look!" exclaimed Bob. "Great goodness! Look at that!"
Steve Rush did look. One look was enough. With a sudden exclamation he sprang for the slow-moving Italian, leaping the chutes at the risk of his life. The lad knew that the lives of every man there were in peril. By quick work only could he save them, and perhaps not then.
FACING A GREAT PERIL
BOB JARVIS was after him with a bound.
The lads had seen a little tongue of flame creeping up the sides of the bag on the back of the Italian.
Mr. Penton saw it also, as did the president of the company. The two men understood the situation as fully as did the lads themselves, but the others of the company were laughing and chatting, unmindful of the dire peril that was threatening them. Mr. Carrhart and Mr. Penton half rose from their seats, their faces blanching noticeably.
Steve by this time had reached the Italian burden-bearer. Stretching forth his hands, he grasped the bag, giving it a powerful tug. The Italian toppled over backwards, the loop slipping over his head, leaving the sack and its contents in the hands of Steve Rush.
In the meantime the attention of the visitors had been attracted. They discovered all at once that something unusual was taking place.
"Hello, what's this—a fight?" cried Mr. Cary.
Those who knew did not answer. They stoodwith pale faces, wide-eyed, watching the efforts of the Iron Boys.
No sooner had Steve gotten possession of the bag than the Italian leaped to his feet. With an angry imprecation, he sprang at Steve, knife in hand.
But Jarvis was watching him. The boy made a leap, landing a powerful blow with his fist on the back of the Italian's head. The man collapsed in a heap. Bob was down on his knees beside his companion in an instant. Steve had thrown the burning bag into the gutter extending along the track, where there trickled a little stream of water that had been turned a dull red by the iron ore. There was little water there, but Rush was scooping up what there was of the water and mud, and with it patting out the fire in the sack.
Bob began doing the same, but now little flames were starting up all over the bag.
"Beat it out with your hands!" cried Steve. "It's getting the best of us. If it reaches the fuses, we're done for!"
"Skip, Steve; let me do it."
Rush did not answer. He was beating a tattoo on the bag, now and then grabbing up a handful of mud and water to soothe the hands which were already quite badly burned.
"It's out," announced Bob at last.
The Iron Boys' prompt action had prevented the fuses from igniting. All this had occupied but a few seconds. Instinctively the visitors realized that something was wrong, but they did not understand what that something was.
Steve rolled the bag over two or three times, soaking it as well as he could with the little water at hand. He then opened the mouth of the sack, emptying the contents into the gutter and soaking that with water. This done, he threw the sack away and straightened up, his face flushed from his exertions.
The Italian was just getting to his feet unsteadily, but there was an angry light in his eyes.
Steve pointed to the sack.
"How did that happen?" demanded the lad.
"Me not know," was the answer, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Why you hit me?"
"Why did I hit you?" repeated Bob. "If I hadn't you'd been sailing skyward by this time."
The Italian started away, muttering sullenly. Steve stepped forward, laying a restraining hand on the man's arm.
"Wait a minute. I want to talk with you."
Mr. Carrhart sat down on the bench rather heavily, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
"Now, Carrhart, perhaps you will tell us the meaning of this remarkable scene," said Mr. Cary. "Something is up. I have a suspicion."
"Yes, you are right; something is up—orwas. Do you gentlemen know what was in that bag that you saw on fire just now?"
"No."
"It was dynamite," said the president in an impressive tone.
"Dynamite!" exclaimed the visitors in one voice.
"Yes. How much was there in the bag, Mr. Penton?" asked Mr. Carrhart.
"I should judge there were a dozen charges; about fifty pounds, I should say."
The blanched faces of the visitors evidenced their understanding.
"Enough to blow us into kingdom come," added the superintendent.
"Then—then those boys have saved our lives?"
"They have," said Mr. Penton.
"Yes, and that act of theirs is sufficient to earn for them the Medal of Honor. I never knew of a braver act," added the president. "Rush, come here! Jarvis, I want you, too."
The boys obeyed the command, Steve leading the unwilling Italian around the chutes to the platform, where he stood him against the wall.
"You stay there until you are wanted!" ordered the boy, at which Mr. Penton nodded his approval.
The visitors crowded forward, expressing their admiration at the bravery of the Iron Boys, at the same time plying them with eager questions.
"How did you ever have the courage to do it?" questioned one man.
"Because I didn't want to be blown up," answered Steve simply, at which the tension was relieved and everyone laughed.
"What I should like to know," exclaimed Mr. Carrhart, "is how this affair occurred—how did that bag of dynamite chance to catch fire?"
"From the Italian's candle, of course," said Mr. Cary. "I always have considered those open lights dangerous, especially where high explosives are used. We should have enclosed lights, the same as they do in the coal mines."
"What do you think about it, Rush?" asked the president, turning to the young man inquiringly.
"It did not catch from the man's candle, sir," answered the lad confidently.
"You think not?"
"I am sure of it, sir."
"What makes you think it did not?"
"Because the candle was on the front of his cap. It is there now, as you can see for yourself. The fire, when I first saw it, was burning at the bottom of the bag on the man's back. I do not see, by any stretch of the imagination, how the candle could have fired the cloth."
"You're right."
"Mr. Penton, would you like to question the man?" asked Steve, nodding toward the Italian.
"Yes. Come here, Dominick."
The Italian obeyed with sullenness.
"How did this thing happen, Dominick?"
"Me not know."
"You did not have your candle in your hand at any time, did you?"
"Me have candle in hat."
"Was it there when you picked up the bag?"
"Yes."
"You are sure of that?"
"Me sure."
"May I ask a question?" inquired Steve.
"Certainly."
"Did you pass or meet anyone just before you reached the chutes here?"
"Me not meet any one."
"I don't understand this at all," said Mr. Penton. "Dominick is trustworthy, so far as I am aware. At least no charges ever have been made against him."
"He seemed to me to be pretty handy with his knife," suggested the president. "I shouldn't want to trust a man very far who acted that way, would you, Rush?"
"Well, no, sir; but I shouldn't accuse him of setting fire to a bag of dynamite, then calmly shouldering the bag and marching off. At least, not unless he was determined to commit suicide."
There was a hearty laugh, this time at the expense of the president.
"There's good logic in that, at any rate," agreed Mr. Carrhart.
Steve was studying the face of the Italian keenly. This Mr. Carrhart observed and nodded significantly to Superintendent Penton. But Steve could not make up his mind that Dominick was in any way to blame for what had barely missed being a great disaster.
Both lads were puzzled. They could not understand it at all.