The Boys of Crawford's Basin Part 18

"We should have been badly scared, Tom, and that's a fact," I replied; "but I hope we should have kept our heads. I believe we should have sat down where we were and shouted till somebody came."

"Well, that would have been the best thing you could do, though you might have had to shout a pretty long time, for there is n.o.body working in this level just now but me, and, as a matter of fact, I should have left it myself in another five minutes. But it's all right as it happens; so now you can come along with me. I'm going out the other way through Yetmore's ground."

"Yetmore's ground?" exclaimed Joe, inquiringly.

"Yes, Yetmore is working the old stopes of the Pelican on a lease--it is one of his many ventures. In the early days of the camp mining was conducted much more carelessly than it is now; freight and smelter charges were a good bit higher, too, so that a considerable amount of ore of too low grade to ship then was left standing in the stopes.

Yetmore is taking it out on shares. His ground lies this way. Come on."

So saying, Tom led the way to the end of the drift, where, going down upon his hands and knees, he crawled through a man-hole, coming out into a little shaft which he called a "winze." Ascending this by a short ladder, we found ourselves in the old, abandoned workings, and still following our guide, we presently walked out into the daylight--greatly to our surprise.

"Why, where have we got to, Tom?" cried Joe, as we stared about us, not recognizing our surroundings.

Tom laughed. "This is called Stony Gulch," he replied. "The mine used to be worked through this tunnel where we just came out, but the tunnel isn't used now except temporarily by Yetmore's men. He only runs a day shift and at night he closes the place with that big door and locks it up. The Pelican buildings are just over the hill here, and we may as well go up at once: it will be quitting-time by the time we get there."

We climbed over the hill, therefore, and having restored our slickers, went on with Tom down to his little cottage, which was only about a quarter of a mile from the mine.

It was not until we were inside his house that we explained to Tom the object of our visit, at the same time handing over to him my father's check for one hundred dollars. The good fellow was quite touched by this very simple token of good-will on our part; for, though he was ever ready to help others, it seemed never to have occurred to him that others might like sometimes to help him.

This little bit of business being settled, we all pitched in to a.s.sist in getting supper ready, and presently we were seated round Tom's table testing the result of our cookery. As we sat there, Joe, pointing to a window-sash and some planed and fitted lumber which stood leaning against the wall, asked:

"What are you going to do with that, Tom? Put in a second window?"

"Yes," replied our host. "And I was intending to do it this evening. You can help me now you're here. The stuff is all ready; all we have to do is to cut the hole in the wall and slap it in. It's just one sash, not intended to open and shut, so it's a simple job enough."

"Where does it go?" asked Joe.

"There, on the right-hand side of the door. Old man Snyder, in the next house west, put one in some time ago, and it's such an improvement that I decided to do the same. We'll step out presently and look at Snyder's, and then you'll see. Hallo! Come in!"

This shout was occasioned by a tapping at the door, and in response to Tom's call there stepped in a tall miner, whom I recognized as George Simpson, one of the Pelican men.

"Come in, George," cried our host. "Come in and have some supper. What's new?"

"No, I won't take any supper, thank ye," replied the miner. "I must get along home. I just dropped in to speak to you. You know Arty Burns?--works on the night shift? Well, Arty's sick. When he came up to the mine to-night he was too sick to stand, so I packed him off home again and told him to go to bed where he belonged and I'd see to it that somebody went on in his place, so that he shouldn't lose his job. I'm proposing to work half his shift for him myself, and I want to find somebody----"

"All right, George," Connor cut in. "I'll take the other half. Which do you want? First or second?"

"Second, if it's all the same to you, Tom. If I don't get home first my old woman will think there's something the matter. So, if you don't mind, you can go on first and I'll relieve you at half-time."

"All right, George, then I'll get out at once. You boys can wash up, if you will; and you'll find a mattress and plenty of blankets in the back room. I'll be back soon after eleven."

With that, carrying a lantern in his hand, for it was getting dark, away he went; while the miner hurried off across lots for town; neither of them, apparently, thinking it anything out of the way to do a full day's work and then, instead of taking his well-earned rest, to go off and do another half-day's work in order to "hold the job" for a third man, to whom neither of them was under any obligation.

Nor _was_ it anything out of the way; for the silver-miners of Colorado, whatever their faults, did in those days, and probably do still, exercise towards their fellows a practical charity which might well be counted to cover a mult.i.tude of sins.

"Look here, Phil!" exclaimed my companion, after we had washed and put away the dishes. "I'll tell you what we'll do. Let's pitch in and put in Tom's second window for him!"

"Good idea!" I cried. "We'll do it! Let's go out first, though, Joe, and take a look at old Snyder's house, so that we may see what effect Tom expects to get."

"Come on, then!"

The row of six little houses, of which Tom's was the third, counting from the west, had been one of Yetmore's speculations. They were situated on the southern outskirts of town, and were mostly occupied by miners working on the Pelican. Each house was an exact counterpart of every other, they having been built by contract all on one pattern.

Each had a room in front and a room behind; one little brick chimney; a front door with two steps; and a window on the right-hand side of the door as you faced the house. All were painted the same color.

Yetmore having secured the land, had laid it out as "Yetmore's Addition"

to the town of Sulphide; had marked out streets and alleys, and had built the six houses as a starter, hoping thereby to draw people out there. But as yet his building-lots were a drug in the market: they were too far out; there being a vacant s.p.a.ce of a quarter of a mile or thereabouts between them and the next nearest houses in town. The streets themselves were undistinguishable from the rest of the country, being merely marked out with stakes and having had no work whatever expended upon them.

The six houses, built about three hundred feet apart, all faced north--towards the town--and being so far apart and all so precisely alike, it was absolutely impossible for any one coming from town on a dark night to tell which house was which. Not even the tenants themselves, coming across the vacant lots after nightfall, could tell their own houses from those of their neighbors; and consequently it was a common event for one of the sleepy inmates, stirred out of bed by a knock at the door, to find a belated citizen outside inquiring whether this was his house or somebody else's. Not infrequently they neglected to knock first, and walking straight in, found themselves, to their great embarra.s.sment, in the wrong house.

Old man Snyder, a somewhat irritable old gentleman, having been thus disturbed two nights in succession, determined that he would no longer subject himself to the nuisance. He bought a single sash and inserted a second window on the other side of his door; a device which not only saved him from intrusion, but served as a guide to his neighbors in finding their own houses. It was also a very obvious improvement, and we did not wonder that Tom Connor had determined to follow his neighbor's example.

Old Snyder's house was the second from the western end of the street, Tom Connor's, three hundred feet distant, came next, while next to Tom's, another three hundred feet away, was a house which still belonged to Yetmore and was at that moment standing empty.

You will wonder, very likely, why I should go into all these details, but you will cease to wonder, I think, when you see presently of what transcendent importance to Joe and me was the situation of these three houses.

Joe and I, laying hands on our host's kit of tools, at once went to work on the window. As Tom had said, it was a simple job, and though it was something of a handicap to work by lamplight, we went at it so vigorously that by nine o'clock we had completed our task--very much to our satisfaction.

Stepping outside to observe the effect, we saw that old Snyder's windows were lighted up also; but we had hardly noted that fact when his light went out.

"The old fellow goes to bed early, Joe," said I.

"Yes," Joe replied; and then, with a sudden laugh, added: "My wig, Phil!

I hope there won't be anybody coming out from town to-night. If they do, there'll be complications. They will surely be taking our two windows for old Snyder's, for, now that his light is out, you can't see his house at all."

"That's a fact," said I. "If Snyder's right-hand neighbor should come out across the flats to-night he would see our two windows, and, supposing them to be Snyder's windows, he would be almost sure to go blundering into the old fellow's house. My! How mad he would be!"

"Wouldn't he! And any one coming out to visit Tom would pretty certainly go and pound on the door of the empty house to the left."

"Well, let us hope that n.o.body does come out," said I. "Come on, now, Joe. Let's get back. It's going to rain pretty soon."

"Yes; your father was right when he predicted more rain. It's going to be a biggish one, I should think. How dark it is! I don't wonder people find a difficulty in telling which house is which when all the lights are out. Here it comes now. Step out, Phil."

As he spoke, a blast of wind from the mountains struck us, and a few needles of cold rain beat against our right cheeks.

We were soon inside again, when, having shut our door, we sat down to a game of checkers, in which we became so absorbed that we failed to note the lapse of time until Tom's dollar clock, hanging on the wall, banged out the hour of ten.

"To bed, Joe!" I cried, springing out of my chair. "Why, we haven't been up so late for weeks."

Stepping into the back room, we soon had mattress and blankets spread upon the floor, when, quickly undressing, I crept into bed, while Joe, returning to the front room, blew out the light.

Five minutes later we were both asleep, with a comfortable consciousness that we had done a good evening's work; though we little suspected how good an evening's work it really was. For it is hardly too much to say that had we _not_ put in Tom's second window that night we might both have been dead before morning.

CHAPTER XII

TOM CONNOR'S SCARE