"Perhaps a spark dropped from the trolley wire, thus firing the bag," suggested the superintendent, after briefly turning the question over in his mind.
"That is a plausible explanation," said Mr. Carrhart, "and for want of a better one we shall have to let it go at that. Yes, I think that must be the explanation."
The party decided that they had seen enough of the Cousin Jack for one day. Some of the officials were more anxious to get out of the place than they cared to admit. They were not used to having their luncheons interrupted by fifty-pound sacks of dynamite catching fire.
Each, before leaving, stepped up and shook hands with the Iron Boys.
"I want to see you before I leave the range," said Mr. Carrhart as he bade Steve good-bye.
"Yes, sir," answered the boy, touching his hat, as he stepped to one side to permit the visitors to pass around the chute.
"We must do something for those boys," said Mr. Cary to the president.
"Yes," agreed Mr. Carrhart.
"They are doing something for themselves, gentlemen," returned the superintendent. "They are not lads to need much help. They are the kind who carve out their own futures."
"Well, they've gone," announced Bob, stamping the dirt from his shoes. "What do you think of it?"
"Of the fire—the burning bag, you mean?"
"Yes."
"I think it was a mighty queer occurrence."
"So do I," agreed Jarvis, "and it's my opinion that it will bear looking into."
"Where's Dominick?"
"He sneaked away when the others left. But he is of no use to us. He knows nothing about this affair, beyond what we all saw. We must look beyond him for the cause of the fire. Well, I'm off."
The lads separated for the time being and went off about their duties. But the thought of the fired bag kept recurring to Steve Rush. He turned the matter over and over in his mind, yet without being able to reach any definite conclusion regarding it.
"I wish I knew," he mused. "It is not my business, however, to inquire into the affair unless I have orders to do so."
He was to receive his orders sooner than he imagined, and his investigations were eventually to develop some startling facts concerning conditions in the Cousin Jack Mine.
INTO A BLACK GULF
WHILE the Iron Boys were trudging through the mine, completing their weary rounds of miles with their eyes fixed keenly on the tracks, a meeting had been called at the office of the superintendent. All of the gentlemen who comprised the party of visitors at the mine were at the meeting.
Maps of the mines on the range were spread out on the table before them, and they were going over and discussing these maps in detail. Business was transacted with a speed that would have made most of the business men in that remote region dizzy headed.
Having disposed of the matters before them, the conversation turned to their recent narrow escape in the Cousin Jack Mine. The visitors were fully convinced now that the fire had been caused by a spark from the trolley wire, and Superintendent Penton, if he thought otherwise, did not say so. He had made up his mind, however, to push his inquiry a little further. He wanted to make sure that the suggestion was the correct one.
From the subject of the fired bag the menturned to a discussion of Steve Rush and Bob Jarvis. This ended in Mr. Cary's making a proposition. After a little discussion it was put in the form of a motion and passed with enthusiasm.
Of all of this, of course, the lads tramping along the levels far underground knew nothing. It was destined to come as a great surprise to them when they learned of the action taken by the officials of the company in the interest of the two plucky boys.
That night the officers boarded their private car and went on to visit other of the company's mines further up the range. Early on the following forenoon Superintendent Penton visited his own mine, and while there looked up Steve Rush.
The superintendent asked Steve what he thought about the theory of a spark from the wire having fired the dynamite bag.
"I don't take any stock in it," answered the boy promptly. "Do you, sir?"
"I have had my doubts, but how else could it have started?"
"I will answer that question by showing you that it could not have started from a wire spark. The fire started on the underside of the bag. Did you notice that?"
"No; it had spread over the bag when Icaught sight of it. But I was reasonably certain there was more to it than we imagined when you asked Dominick if he met anyone in the level just before reaching the chutes."
Steve nodded reflectively.
"What do you infer from the fire starting on the under side of the dynamite bag?"
"That someone had either accidentally or by design shoved a candle under the bag while Dominick was carrying it. That is the only way I can see that the fire might have started."
"I think you are right about that. But it surely was an accident. No one would be willing to take such terrible chances. Why, it might have blown everyone up within a wide radius."
"Yes, it would have done so."
"And yet you were down on your knees, with your nose right over the stuff, as if it were so much clay. I have steady nerves myself, but I don't believe I should have had the pluck to do that. At least, I know I should have turned my head away."
Steve laughed.
"I am afraid that would not have helped you much if the stuff had gone off."
"Rush, if you suspect anything keep your eyes open; that's all I have to say. What you don't see will not be worth the seeing."
"Very well, sir; I will do as you request,but I have not much hope of getting at the truth."
"I'll risk that. I am going to the lower level. There is some difficulty with the pumps there, the engineer tells me," said the superintendent, proceeding on his way.
Steve had not very much to do, so he walked back to his old post on the seventeenth level to wait until Bob Jarvis should come along. Steve and the superintendent had no sooner left the spot where they had been talking than a figure slunk from a deserted drift near by, glanced up and down the level, then hurried away. The man's hat was pulled down, and the candle above aided in throwing his face into deep shadow, but the full beard was not hidden, had anyone been near by to observe it.
Steve had been sitting on the platform at the chutes for about thirty minutes when the level's telephone rang.
"Mr. Penton wants to see you on the lower level," said the telephone boy.
"Where is he?" questioned Steve.
"He says he'll meet you near the suction pipes."
"Very good," answered the lad, rising. "If Mr. Jarvis comes along tell him where I have gone. If I get through in time I will meet him here and go up with him."
Rush hurried over, signaled the cage tender that he wished to descend, and a short time afterwards was being plunged deeper into the mine.
He left the cage at the sub-level just above the last level. The last level was flooded with water some twenty feet deep. All the water from the mine was drained down into the last level and from there pumped to the surface and thus disposed of.
There were naturally no mining operations carried on down on the last level.
Steve had been down there on numerous occasions and every inch of the ground was familiar to him. Upon leaving the cage he made his way through the dark, damp tunnels, whistling as he stepped briskly along. He could not imagine what Mr. Penton could want of him down there, for if anything were wrong with the pumping system it was a matter for the engineering department and not for a track inspector.
Turning the last bend in the sub-level, Push began to move with more caution. A moment more and he caught sight of the big water pipes winding up through the roof of the level.
"I wonder where Mr. Penton is?" muttered the lad, stepping out on a plank platform.
As he did so a wave of dampness that almost chilled him swept up from the dark depths ofthe last level. An open space extended from the floor down to the level itself and from this soundings were occasionally taken to determine the depth of the water. The lead line hung from a peg driven into a crevice in the rock. Steve noted that the line was dry.
"That is curious. Mr. Penton evidently has not made a sounding. I should have thought he would have done so if he had reason to think the water was not being pumped out as fast as it should be."
Rush raised his voice and called out the name of the superintendent. Only the echo of his own voice came back to him.
"That's queer," decided Steve. "But, of course, he did not telephone me from here. He probably is on one of the levels above this. I will wait."
Resuming his whistling, the lad began pacing back and forth on the planking, having stuck his candlestick back on his miner's hat.
The young inspector had been waiting for fully half an hour, but not a sign of the superintendent did he see.
"Well, this is getting rather tiresome," he said, pausing to listen to the rhythmic click of the pumps that his ears could faintly catch. "I think I will amuse myself by sounding the water level."
The lad took down the rope, to one end of which a piece of lead had been attached, spun the weighted end a few times about his head, letting it fly out into the darkness, listening intently as the line ran swiftly through his hands.
A distant splash followed a few seconds later, whereupon the line gave out not quite so rapidly.
"It's down," nodded Steve. He leaned over the edge to pull the line in without drawing it over the edge of the planking, so that he could the better see that mark of the water on the rope.
"Gracious, I should hate to take a swim in that hole," said the Iron Boy, with a laugh.
He stopped suddenly. Steve thought he had heard something behind him.
"Is that you, Mr. Penton?" he asked, turning and peering into the darkness.
There was no reply.
"I must be getting the creeps," said Steve, beginning to whistle as he hauled in the line. "Wha—what—here, let go of me. Let——"
Some invisible force behind had put a sudden pressure upon Steve Rush. He was being rapidly shoved toward the edge of the platform.
All at once Steve felt the flooring drop from beneath his feet; and, without making a sound, the lad plunged over into the darkness.
A loud splash followed, then all was still.
THE SEARCH FOR THE MISSING BOY
BOB JARVIS waited a long time at the chutes for his companion, but Steve did not return. This did not cause Bob any particular worry, as Steve no doubt had been called to some other part of the mine. So Bob deciding to wait no longer, strolled away.
At the close of the day's work, however, when Steve was not at the mouth of the shaft waiting for him, Bob began to wonder. He waited about the shaft for half an hour, then went on to his boarding place. Steve had not returned.
"Where's Rush?" demanded the boarding boss, knowing Steve's habit of punctuality.
"That is what's bothering me. I haven't seen him."
It was the business of the boarding boss to look quickly into any absences and report them to the superintendent or the mine captain. He got busy at once. Calling up the time-keeper's office, he inquired if Steve Rush had checked in.
The information came back a moment later that Steve had not come up from the mine yet; or, if he had, he had failed to report himself.
"Then something has happened to him," wasJarvis' emphatic conclusion. "He left word for me to meet him at seventeen, but when I got there he had gone. I haven't seen him since."
The boarding boss agreed so strongly that he telephoned to the superintendent. The latter had not yet arrived home from his office, so the mine captain was communicated with.
But Bob Jarvis already was out of the house, headed for the shaft at top speed.
"Has Steve Rush come up yet?" he demanded of the cage-tender.
"Haven't seen him."
Bob hesitated. He realized the futility of wandering about the mine not knowing in what part of it he should look for the missing Steve. He then hurried to the time-keeper's office, learning that nothing had been seen of the missing boy.
Bob did not know which way to turn. But by the time he had reached the shaft again Superintendent Penton was there, together with the mine captain, preparing to go below. The cage had just come up and the men were stepping aboard when a boy from the boarding house where the Iron Boys lived came running up out of breath.
"Wait!" cried Bob. "Here comes a boy from our hashery. Maybe Steve has gone home."
"What is it, boy?" called the superintendent.
"Boss wanted me to tell you that the telephone man who lives with us says Mr. Rush got a telephone message from you to meet him at the lower level this afternoon. He says Rush didn't come back."
"I didn't send for him to meet me anywhere," answered the superintendent. "We'll go to the lower level. Shoot us down as fast as is safe," he added, addressing the cage-tender.
The bottom of the car seemed to be dropping from beneath their feet, so rapid was their descent.
Bob, holding to the support rod above their heads, was thinking fast and hard.
"I knew something had happened to Steve," he said. "Something has happened to him."
Mr. Penton had not spoken since the cage started. He, too, was thinking deeply. There was something about all this that he could not understand, though he was unable to clearly define what really was in his mind. If someone had called Steve Rush to come to the sub-level above the lower level, and had done so in the name of the superintendent, it must have been done either as a joke or for some other purpose that could only be surmised.
"Why should anyone have resorted to such a subterfuge?" wondered Mr. Penton.
Very much the same thoughts were running through the mind of Bob Jarvis. So engrossed was each with his own thoughts that neither man seemed to realize the dizzy rate of speed at which they were descending. Finally the cage began to slow down gradually, then finally came to an easy stop.
There was no light in that sub-level, but the occupants of the cage knew exactly where they were. They knew the place as well as though the sub-level had been ablaze with light.
"All off," ordered the superintendent. "The cage will wait for us here."
He had given orders that the cage was to remain below until he signaled the tender to hoist. If the latter found it necessary to raise the cage before that he was to ring a certain signal on the gong, each level and sub-level being provided with one.
"All hands keep their eyes open," directed the leader of the searching party. "I haven't much hope that we shall find him here, however."
The group moved along the sub-level, glancing about them keenly as they did so, until they reached the turn or bend in the tunnel, where they paused to listen. The sub-level was as silent as a tomb. They could not even hear the rush of the water as it dashed into the lowerlevel, some of it coming all the way from the surface.
"Shall I call out?" asked Bob.
"Yes."
"Steve!" Bob's voice did not seem to carry far. It sounded weak to him.
"Oh, Steve! Steve Rush!" shouted the superintendent.
There being no response, he repeated the call several times, but with no better result.
"I guess it is useless, boys. I am afraid we shall not find him here. In fact, I can't believe that he came down here at all."
"The boy said you had telephoned to Steve to come down, didn't he?" asked Jarvis.
"Yes; but I did nothing of the sort. The telephone man must have made a mistake in the message—or else——" Mr. Penton checked himself sharply. "We will look further, though I am sure we are wasting time. We shall probably find that he has fallen somewhere on one of the upper levels and hurt himself. If that is so, one of the watchmen is sure to discover him and report the matter at once. We will go out to the platform, then on up to the next level. I'll have all the watchmen notified at once to take up the search."
The searchers walked out on the planking where Steve had stood a couple of hours before.Mr. Penton peered down into the black pit, while the others stood a little back from him.
"He is not here. It is as I thought. He has not been here, in all probability. We shall have to go on up, boys. I——"
Bob suddenly jerked his candle from his hat, holding the light to the floor. As he did so, he uttered a half-smothered exclamation, at the same time grabbing something from the planking and holding it up to the light.
"Look!" cried the lad. "Look! He hasn't been here, eh?"
WHEN THE WATERS CLOSED OVER HIM
STEVE did not cry out when he found himself plunging into the water, principally for the reason that he was too plucky to make an outcry when his safety was imperiled. In the second place, his mind was working so rapidly that he did not have time to cry out.
He struck the water with a splash, broadside on, quickly sinking beneath the surface. Steve was too good a swimmer to swallow any water, however, and began holding his breath even before he struck the water, knowing as he did what was about to happen. The result was that he had propelled himself to the surface before many seconds had elapsed. He came up shaking himself like a water dog, but was careful to make as little noise as possible.
As soon as he succeeded in getting the water out of his eyes, he looked up, expecting to see a light on the platform on the sub-level. All was inky blackness there, and not a sound could be heard save the rush of water.
Young Rush began swimming. He did not know whether there was a ladder extending down into the level or not, so he swam aboutfor some time, feeling along the wall in search of something by which he might pull himself up. But he did not find a projection of any kind. The rocks forming the wall were smooth and slimy and felt like ice to the touch.
He was beginning to feel chilled. Steve tried to recall what the map of the lower level looked like, but try as he might he could not recall a single detail of the map filed in the engineer's office. By this time he did not know where he was. He had lost all sense of direction.
"I guess I am a goner. They've got me this time," he said aloud. "I hope that Mr. Penton will find out how it happened."
The boy was now shivering violently. His teeth were chattering and he began to wonder if he were freezing to death, for the sense of feeling seemed to have left his legs and arms. A numbness was slowly creeping over him.
"I must keep going, or I shall surely be drowned," he cried, once more striking out and swimming as fast as he could, hoping thereby to restore his circulation to its former condition. But the water was too cold and the young miner's efforts grew weaker as the moments passed.
Though he did not know it, the drift of the water on the lower level was toward the large pipes, where it was being sucked to the surface by the powerful pumps above.
As Steve reached over and over in a slow over-hand stroke, which now and then he varied by falling into the frog stroke, he forged slowly ahead until his hands suddenly struck some object that was not the rocky side of the level. The lad grasped it quickly.
"A plank. Thank goodness!" he cried.
The plank had floated off either from the platform or from the lagging somewhere on that level. It made no difference to the swimmer where it had come from. He threw both arms about the plank and lay there resting for some time, breathing heavily. Finally he pulled himself over on the plank, stretching out lengthwise on it. The piece of wood held him up very well. Now and then he would paddle a little with his hands, propelling himself in one direction until it bumped against a wall, floating off with the current again.
While the lad realized that the chances were against his ever getting out of the level alive, he felt little fear. He was one of those rare beings in whom the emotion of fear had not been fully developed.
All the time the numbness was growing upon him. Instinctively realizing that he was likely to lose control of his muscles, Steve wrapped both arms and legs about the plank so that he might not fall off and drown.
At last he became so benumbed and dazed that he could not help himself at all. A warm glow seemed to be spreading itself over his body. He had never felt more comfortable in his life, and a short time afterwards he gave way to his drowsiness.
It was a few moments later that Superintendent Penton and his searching party entered the sub-level in search of Steve. Rush heard them call out his name, but he was too sleepy to answer. Then he heard no more.
When Bob Jarvis cried out "look," Mr. Penton and the mine captain had turned sharply.
"What is it?" they demanded eagerly and in one voice.
"A hat! It's Steve's hat!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Here's his name inside the crown. We wrote our names in with ink at the same time. You can see mine is the same—the same kind of ink—purple."
As the two men started toward Bob the mine captain stumbled over the sounding rope that lay on the platform. He stooped to pick it up, and as he did so he, too, uttered an exclamation.
"This line is wet, Mr. Penton," he said excitedly.
"Then Steve has been casting it. He has been sounding the level, probably to pass away the time while he was waiting for me."
Once more the superintendent raised his voice, calling out the name of Steve Rush. As before there was no response.
"Boys, I see—I understand. Steve has fallen into the level and drowned. No doubt he fell in while casting the lead, for part of the line is dangling over the edge there now. Too bad, too bad. But——"
"He may not be drowned. Let's do something," begged Bob.
"What would you suggest?"
"Why, look for him, of course. I'll go over myself and look for him."
"Lad, it would be suicide. You would drown, even if you were not too chilled to swim after you got into the water. You——"
"I'd like to see any water that could drown me," answered Bob.
"We must have help, and at once. Jim, run up to the next level and telephone for help. Have them send down several men. Be quick about it."
"Ask them to bring ropes," interjected Bob.
"Yes, have them bring down ropes," repeated the superintendent.
Bob began ripping up the planking on the platform. His active mind had thought out a plan and he did not wait for permission to put it into operation.
"What are you doing there, lad?"
"I am making a raft. We have got to have something which will float on the water. We can fasten it together when the men get here with ropes. I'll be ready before they can get here."
Jarvis was working with desperate haste. Perhaps his companion was not yet dead. At least Bob would know that he had done his best.
"Hark!"
"What is it?" whispered Bob.
"I thought I heard someone call. I am sure I did. Rush! Oh, Steve!"
A faint "here," that sounded far away reached their ears.
"He's alive! I tell you, he's alive!" cried Bob Jarvis.
Grabbing the end of one of the planks that he had torn loose, Bob began dragging it toward the edge of the platform.
"What are you going to do, lad?"
"Do? Why, sir, I'm going after him."
"Wait; let the men do that. I cannot have you going in there," objected Mr. Penton. But Bob did not stop. He hauled the plank over, and, snatching the rope, made one end of the latter fast about the plank. He then began letting the plank over the side, end first. It nearly got away from him, the rope burning the skin from his palms as it spun through his hands.
"Let me help you." Mr. Penton sprang forward, throwing himself on the fast running rope.
"The plank is on the water. It can't get away from us now," said Bob, beginning to strip off his jacket, first having stuck his candlestick in a niche in the rocks.
"You are not going over!"
"Yes, sir, I am going over. We haven't a minute to lose."
"I advise you not to do so."
The superintendent was far from being a timid man, but he knew the danger; he felt that his responsibility was too great to permit the boy to enter that black hole.
"You hold the rope. Nothing can happen to me. I am not afraid of ice water, nor any other kind. Maybe I shall be able to find him by the time the men get here. We shall gain some precious minutes in that way."
Next the boy's heavy boots came off, leaving him in his stocking feet. He passed the end of the rope to the superintendent.
"Will you please hold your candle over the edge, so I can see where the plank is, sir?"
Mr. Penton did so.
"Be careful, Jarvis; do be careful," he urged. "I ought not to let you do this. If anything happens to you I shall feel that I am directly responsible."
"Do not fear; nothing will happen to me."
Bob peered down into the dark waters, where, after a moment, he made out the plank floating slowly toward the spot where the pipes disappeared beneath the surface.
"Now, please hold the light up high, so that I can see what I am doing."
The lad poised a moment, then leaped far out into the darkness. Instead of making a dive, head first, Bob chose to go down feet first. His body straightened, and as he neared the water he clasped his hands above his head. He took the water cleanly, making only a slight splash as he disappeared beneath the surface.
As soon as he felt the water closing over him the Iron Boy threw out both hands to stay his progress and began treading water vigorously. He soon regained the surface.
Jarvis came up blowing and puffing, shaking his head and making the water fairly foam about him as he struck out with hands and feet.
"Are you all right, Jarvis?" called Mr. Penton in an anxious tone.
"Yes, where's the plank?"
"To the right of you. A little more to the right. There, it is directly ahead of you now."
A few powerful strokes and Bob had grasped the plank. He pulled himself partly up on it and looked about him.
"Can't you let a candle down to light up this hole?" he called.
"I have nothing to let one down with. Do you see anything?"
"Nothing that I want to see. Ho, Steve!"
"Here," sounded the faint answer that seemed to come from several different directions at the same time.
"Did you hear that?" demanded Bob excitedly. "Where did the sound come from?"
"It sounded to me as though he might be over to the left. Have courage, Steve; we will have you out in a few minutes. I have sent for help. Can you keep up?"
Their ears failed to catch any answer.
"I'm coming, Steve," roared Jarvis. "Keep shouting if you can, so I'll know where you are."
"Stay where you are, Jarvis!" commanded Mr. Penton sternly.
"Do you think I'm going to stay here and let him drown?" demanded the lad. There was a splash as Bob Jarvis left the plank and began ploughing through the water at racing speed.
"He'll be drowned; they both will be drowned!" exclaimed the superintendent. "Such pluck, such pluck! Hurry up, men; hurry!" he shouted as he caught the sound of voices off in the darkness of the sub-level.
Half a dozen men, headed by the mine captain, came running toward him.
"Look out! Look out for the hole in the floor. Have you ropes?"
"Yes."
"Then tie a few planks together. Make a raft and let it over the side. Work fast, for once in your lives! There are two men down there and they may be drowning."
"Oh, Steve!"
They could hear Bob's voice calling to his companion. The voice sounded far away, for Bob had plunged ahead, beating his way courageously through the waters in the black darkness.
"I hear him. He's ahead of me," Jarvis shouted.
"Can you hold out?" called Mr. Penton.
"Yes—as long as there's water to float on!" the answer came back faintly.
In the meantime the men were ripping up the planks. Several of these they lashed together and let carefully down over the edge of the platform, or what was left of it. They had made ropes fast at both ends, in order that the raft might make a landing platform.
"Now you men let me down," commanded the superintendent.
"You had better let me go, sir," advised the mine captain. "I am lighter than you."
"It's my place to go; do as I tell you. While I am down there rig a sling to pull us up on. Jim, you take charge of the operations at this end and see that there is no slip anywhere."
"I will, sir," answered the mine captain.
Superintendent Penton grasped the rope that had been made fast to a shore post on the sub-level and let himself down. He was a strong man, used to emergencies and well able to take care of himself anywhere in the mine. Shortly afterwards he was standing on the platform or raft below, steadying himself by holding to the rope and the side wall.
"Are you all right, Bob?" he shouted.
"Yes."
"If he happens to get into a drift, they're both lost. Pass down some candles from above, Jim."
Several were let down on a rope and these Mr. Penton stuck into the wall, lighting up the scene fairly well.
"They're calling you, sir," cried Jim.
"What is it?" roared the superintendent.
"I've got him." It was Jarvis' voice, and Mr. Penton breathed a sigh of relief.
A THOUSAND FEET OF LADDERS
AFTER what seemed an endless wait, the watchers heard a great splashing far out on the water. It was Jarvis paddling toward the raft. He had found Steve, the latter unconscious. Just as Bob reached the plank on which the other boy was hanging Steve slipped off into the water.
Bob dived for his chum without an instant's hesitation and when he came up he was gripping the half-drowned Steve. The latter had relapsed into unconsciousness. By this time the plank had floated away several yards. Bob had a hard struggle to reach it, but at last he succeeded, and after great effort managed to place Rush partly on it, so the latter's head would be out of water.
Bob pulled himself upon one end of the plank, so that the other end would be clear of the water, and began paddling. The water fairly flew under his efforts, the swimmer now and then using his feet to help steer the awkward craft.
"I can't see the light. Where are you?" Jarvis cried.
"Here!" shouted Mr. Penton.
A bend in the rocky wall hid the light of the candles from the raft. After several minutes of paddling Bob caught the faint light ahead of him.
"I'm all right now, if Steve is only all right."
"Is he alive?" called Mr. Penton, as he made out the strange craft bearing slowly down upon him.
"Yes, but he's unconscious."
"Then hurry as fast as you can."
"I am hurrying. This isn't a speed boat."
The plank drew up alongside the raft after some difficult manœuvring on the part of Bob Jarvis. Mr. Penton grasped the limp form of Steve Rush, hauling him to the raft.
There was a splash and a choking exclamation. The plank had turned turtle, landing Bob in the water on his back. The boy was almost exhausted, but he righted himself and swam to the raft, to which he held for a moment to rest himself. He then clambered to the raft. He had barely enough strength left to support himself.
The superintendent was tying Steve in the sling that the men had made.
"Haul away, above there!" he roared. "Be as quick as you can, but be careful. Look out, there! What are you trying to do?"
Steve's body had hit the rocks with a resounding bump, but the boy did not feel the shock.
"Let the sling down at once. Two of you get at Rush and rub him. Don't be afraid of rubbing too hard. Start his circulation."
The sling was dropped over the side again, while two of the miners set to work on Steve.
"Get in," commanded Mr. Penton, as the sling came down to them.
"You first, sir," said Bob.
"Get in, I said!" The superintendent's voice had a note of authority that was not to be disputed.
Jarvis reluctantly took his place in the sling.
"Haul away," he called, and Bob was quickly drawn to the platform, where he dropped on his knees by Steve's side, pushing one of the men away, and began slapping the unconscious boy's feet, from which the boots and stockings had been removed. Steve was scarcely breathing.
The sling had been lowered quickly after bringing Jarvis up, and the superintendent took his place in it. The men began hauling him up, but with great difficulty, for Mr. Penton was a heavily built man.
All at once the men sat down. A splash followed almost instantly.
"The rope's broken!" cried one, as Bob bounded to his feet.
"Are you hurt?" he cried, running to the edge.
There was no reply.
"He's fallen into the water!" shouted another of the men.
Once more Bob Jarvis leaped from the platform, but this time he dived head first. Like a flash he realized that, having struck the platform, Mr. Penton undoubtedly had been stunned and was unable to help himself.
Such was the case. Coming to the surface almost at once, Bob swam about for a minute or so before discovering Mr. Penton's whereabouts. The superintendent was beginning to struggle, but he was too much dazed to help himself.
Jarvis was by his side with a few swift strokes. He did not wait to inquire whether the superintendent were hurt or not, but, grabbing the man by the collar, Bob began kicking himself toward the platform. By the time they had reached there Mr. Penton was able to help himself a little, but the boy had a hard tussle to get the superintendent on the platform.
Mr. Penton lay down for a brief moment, then sat up.
"Are you able to try it again?" asked Bob.
"Yes. What happened?"
"The rope broke. You got a pretty hard bump."
Another sling had been quickly rigged, andthis being let down, Mr. Penton was drawn up again, Bob waiting below, but standing to one side, so that in case another accident occurred he should not be carried down, too.
The next trip Jarvis was drawn up. He found the superintendent a little dazed, but holding himself together firmly.
"Thank you," he said shortly, flashing a look at Bob. "We must get Rush up at once where he may have care. Carry him over to the cage. Leave everything as it is here. We have no time to attend to anything but the boy."
The men picked up the lad and bore him through the sub-level. Steve was still limp and unconscious.
Reaching the cage, Mr. Benton gave the signal to hoist. The car did not move, whereupon the superintendent, with an impatient exclamation reached out, giving the signal lever another pull.
"What does this mean?" He rang again to hoist the cage. "Bob, run up to the telephone on the next level and find out what's the matter. The Evil One himself seems to have taken possession of this mine of late."
Jarvis came running back a few minutes later.
"Well, what is it?"
"The cage-tender says the machinery has broken down."
"Did he say what the trouble is?"
"He said the engineer had sent word that the big cog wheel had stripped itself. They can't move the cage, and probably will not be able to do so for some hours. They are taking the old wheel off now, preparatory to putting on the spare wheel."
Mr. Penton clenched his hands to keep from expressing himself as he would like to do.
"We must get this boy somewhere where we can warm him up, or he will die on our hands. The only place I know of is the pump station and——"
"Then we will carry Steve up the ladders," interrupted Bob.
"But, boy, it is nearly a thousand feet from here to the pump station. We can't get him up there by hand."
"I'll show you whether we can or not. One of you go ahead and light the way. Help me through the manholes at the platforms and we'll get him up there in short order. Mr. Penton, will you have somebody follow close behind me to help a little?"
"Do you think you will be able to do it?"
"I don't think! I know!"
"Then I will carry him myself."
"No, sir; I will carry him. You are not able. You are still suffering from the bump you got."
Without further words Jarvis picked up the limp form of his companion. He staggered a little as he swung Steve over his shoulder, the boy's head drooping over on Bob's left breast. Then began a climb that is talked of to this day in the Cousin Jack Mine. Up ladder after ladder staggered Bob Jarvis with the form of his companion over his shoulder. Now and then he would pause on a landing for a breathing spell, where, with heaving chest, he would lean against the rocky wall with eyes closed and everything swimming dizzily about him. Mr. Penton and the searching party followed him up the ladder, but he would let none of them relieve him of his burden.
"Had—hadn't you better telephone for a surgeon to meet us at the pump station?" asked Jarvis.
"Yes, but how will he get down?"
"Let him climb down the ladders. I guess he can climb down if we can go the other way."
"It shall be done at once." Mr. Penton gave the order and the mine captain left them at the next landing to telephone to the company's hospital.
After a long struggle they reached the level where the pump station was located. Even here Bob Jarvis refused to give up his burden. He staggered down the level to where the big pumps were working, tenderly laying Steve down on a blanket that the engineer had thrown down. Then Bob settled down in a heap.