The Iron Boys in the Mines Part 10

After some difficulty the lad got his hands free of his head and began feeling about him. He made a discovery that thrilled him through and through. The body of the powder-man lay across his own, holding the lad firmly to the ground.

Yet under these trying conditions the lad did not lose his steady nerve for an instant. As his mind became clearer he began weighing the possibilities of getting out of his predicament. He reasoned that he and his companion must have been imprisoned in some way by the explosion.

All the time he was carefully twisting his body this way and that in an effort to free himself without hurting the man who was lying across him.

At last Rush succeeded in crawling from under his human burden and the weight of ore and rock that hemmed them both in.

Steve's first act was to stretch forth a hand to his companion. The hand wandered from the face of the prostrate man down over the heart, where it paused.

A faint, irregular beating of that organ rewarded Steve's effort.

"He's alive," cried the lad, scrambling to his feet. "He's----"

A severe fit of coughing cut short the young miner's words. A dense cloud of suffocating powder smoke hung over the drift like a pall.

Steve dropped to the ground, pressing his face close to the earth, where he found the air better. After a few long breaths he began searching for a candle. He knew there had been one on the powder-man's cap when the explosion came. A search, however, failed to locate the candle.

"I wish I knew what to do for him," muttered the lad. "He surely will die here unless they get us out pretty soon, and I wouldn't give much for my own life if I had to stay in this awful air very long."

Steve uttered a long shout, which ended in a fit of coughing.

"No more shouting for me," he muttered, wiping the tears from his eyes--tears not caused by fear or grief.

He next tried shaking the powder-man, which drew a groan from the man, whereupon the lad quickly desisted.

After a moment's reflection, the boy stuffed a handkerchief in his mouth, permitting it to cover his nose, to keep out the full strength of the powder smoke. This done, he got to his feet again, and began feeling his way about the chamber in which the accident had occurred.

"Ah, this is it!"

His hands paused when they came in contact with a heap of crushed timber, and his feet struck a ma.s.s of ore piled against the foot-wall of the drift.

For a moment Rush stood motionless, reflecting on the situation. He could hear no sounds on the outside.

"Either they are all killed out there, or else we are buried so deep that I cannot hear them. I do not know which it is, but I think it must be the latter," the boy decided. "We are imprisoned in the drift; that is certain."

The lad, after some searching about, found a shovel, and with this he began throwing the dirt back from the place where the opening had been.

The effort was too much for him. Strong as he was, the shock of the explosion had weakened him and the powder smoke choked him until he went off into another fit of coughing. To relieve himself he lay down again.

The fresh air along the floor of the drift strengthened him somewhat, and once more he turned his attention to the powder-man. He lifted the miner's head gently, placing it in his own lap, after which he chafed the man's hands and forehead. The miner drew a long, deep sigh and stirred uneasily. Perhaps something of the lad's tender sympathy touched his inner consciousness.

"Poor fellow!" murmured Steve, forcing back the lump that rose in his throat. "This is not a life for the weak or the timid. It is a man's work and I'm going to be a man."

Steve continued to stroke the face and hands of the powder-man until, becoming dizzy from inhaling the powder smoke, he lay down again until somewhat revived.

"I must try to attract the attention out there," decided the lad finally.

Choosing a piece of rock large enough to answer his purpose, he began thumping on the broken timbers. The attempt was not very successful, for he seemed to make no noise at all. Then something else occurred to him.

Ill.u.s.tration: Seizing the Shovel, Steve Began Beating the Timbers.

"The shovel!" he cried. "Why did I not think of it before?"

Grabbing up the tool, he began beating the timbers with it in wide, swinging strokes.

Bang, bang, bang, went the shovel, the lad now and then pausing to listen. Once he thought he caught an answering blow from the opposite side, but he did not hear it again. Then he set up a piece of rock, the largest he could find, and began hammering on this.

Steve's ears were ringing by this time, and during the intervals when he ceased hammering on the timbers or the rock he was overcome by a roaring sound as if a great flood had been suddenly let loose. He did not understand what this meant. The silence of the underground prison had become a chaos of noises, the lad's blows became weaker and at longer intervals apart.

"I wonder what--what is the matter with me. I'm getting sleepy," he muttered.

A few more blows and the shovel dropped from his nerveless fingers.

Steve staggered, then collapsed unconscious across the body of the powder-man.

CHAPTER VII

"IS ANYONE ALIVE IN THERE?"

"Order the timber-men in here! Get a pair of jacks and raise the timbers bodily. Get a move on you, men! We may be able to save them yet!"

Superintendent Penton, of the Cousin Jack Mine, had been summoned by telephone at the first sign of trouble. In his miner's outfit, with a green candle stuck in the holder on his hat, he had hurried down into the mine and made his way quickly to the sub-level where the accident had occurred. He needed no guide to reach the place, for he knew the maze of tunnels of that underground hive of industry so well that he could have followed them to any given point with his eyes shut.

A few brief, pointed questions had brought out the full story of the accident, but Mr. Penton had not addressed Spooner; he had made his inquiries from the men who had been working on that level and in the drift where the explosion had happened.

"Shovelers, here! Throw that rock back! Be careful that you do not undermine the lagging and let the roof all the way down. It's lucky the explosion blew ore enough out to hold the timbers off the ground, or our work would be much more difficult."

The superintendent had taken full charge of the operations. His long experience had told him exactly what to do. The official showed no trace of excitement; instead, his every faculty was centered on the work in hand. His tones were stern, his orders sharp and incisive.

By this time the jacks had been brought. At the superintendent's direction a heavy timber had been placed as a support under those that had been broken and the jacks set to work. Little by little, creaking and groaning, the wrecked lagging was raised inch by inch.

"Steady, there! Hold it, men!"

Those at the jacks stopped work.

"Let half a dozen shovelers get in there," Penton directed. "Throw out some of that dirt. We must get an opening as soon as possible to let air in. Throw away the larger pieces first."

In the meantime the superintendent had ordered a fresh drill brought up, the one belonging to that shift being in the wrecked drift. A line of pipe had been laid to the nearest connection to furnish the compressed air with which to operate the drill.

As soon as the rock had been removed sufficiently, the official ordered the drill set in place. He indicated where the drilling was to be done and a moment later the steady "bang, bang" of the diamond drill filled the air to the exclusion of all other sounds.

"She's through, sir," announced the drill-man, nodding to the superintendent.

"Withdraw the drill."

The official placed his nose to the hole thus made, and shook his head.