"Oh, nonsense! You're old enough, and know the colliery well enough. I don't want them taken through the old workings," added Mr. Jones, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"If you did, sir, I believe I could guide them as well as anybody!" exclaimed Derrick, with all his self-possession restored, together with a touch of his old self-conceit.

"I haven't a doubt of it," answered the other. "Now, if it's all settled that you are to act as their escort to-morrow, step into the parlor and let me introduce you to the ladies."

With this he threw open the door connecting the two rooms, and said, "Sister, this is Derrick Sterling, of whom I have spoken to you so often, and who will act as your guide in my place to-morrow. Derrick, this is my sister, Mrs. Halford, and my niece, Miss Nellie."

Poor Derrick felt very much as he had done when, with the same companion, he had been unexpectedly ushered into the meeting of the Mollie Maguires, and, as on that occasion, his impulse was to run away. Before he had a chance to do anything so foolish, a motherly-looking woman, evidently older than Mr. Jones, but bearing a strong resemblance to him, stepped forward, and taking the boy by the hand, said, "I am very glad to meet you, Derrick, for my brother has told me what a brave fellow you are, and that he feels perfectly safe in trusting us to your guidance to-morrow."

Then Miss Nellie, a pretty girl of about his own age, whose eyes twinkled with mischief, held out her hand, and said, "I think you must be a regular hero, Mr. Sterling, for I'm sure you've been through as much as most of the book heroes I've read about."

Blushing furiously at this, and coloring a still deeper scarlet from the knowledge that he was blushing, and that they were all looking at him, Derrick barely touched the tips of the little fingers held out to him. Then thinking that this perhaps seemed rude, he made another attempt to grasp the offered hand more heartily, but it was so quickly withdrawn that this time he did not touch it at all, whereupon everybody laughed good-naturedly.

Instead of further embarrassing the boy, this laugh had the effect of setting him at his ease, and in another minute he was chatting as pleasantly with Miss Nellie and her mother as though they had been old friends.

Before he left them it was arranged that, early in the morning, he should show the ladies all that was to be seen above-ground, and that they should spend the heat of the day in the cool depths of the mine.

The boy had much to tell his mother, little Helen, and Bill Tooley, who were sitting up waiting for him, when he arrived home; but, after all, he left them to wonder over the age of Miss Halford, whom he only casually mentioned as Mr. Jones's niece.



CHAPTER XIII

LADIES IN THE MINE—HARRY MULE'S SAD MISHAP

When Derrick awoke the next morning, at an unusually early hour, it was with the impression that some great pleasure was in store for him. Before breakfast he went down into the mine to give Harry Mule's sleek coat an extra rub, and to arrange for another boy and mule to take their places that day.

At eight o'clock he presented himself at the door of Mr. Jones's house, dressed in clean blue blouse and overalls, but wearing his smoke-blackened cap and the heavy boots that are so necessary in the wet underground passages of a mine. The mine boss had already gone to Mauch Chunk, and Miss Nellie was watching behind some half-closed shutters for the appearance of their young guide.

"Here he is, mamma!" she exclaimed, as she finally caught sight of Derrick. "How funnily he is dressed! but what a becoming suit it is! it makes him look so much more manly. Why don't he ring the bell, I wonder? He's standing staring at the door as though he expected it to open of itself. Ahem! ahem!"

This sound, coming faintly to Derrick's ear, seemed to banish his hesitation, for the next instant the bell was rung furiously. The truth is he had been seized with another diffident fit, and had it not been broad daylight he would probably have walked back and forth in front of the door several times before screwing up his courage to the bell-ringing point.

The door was opened before the bell had stopped jingling, and an anxious voice inquired, "Is it fire?" Then Miss Nellie, apparently seeing the visitor for the first time, exclaimed, with charming simplicity,

"Oh no! Excuse me. I see it's only you, Mr. Sterling. How stupid of me! Won't you walk in? I thought perhaps it was something serious."

"Only I, and I wish it was somebody else," thought bashful Derrick, as, in obedience to this invitation, he stepped inside the door. Leaving him standing there, Miss Mischief ran up-stairs to tell her mother, in so loud a tone that he could plainly hear her, that Mr. Sterling had come for them, and was evidently in an awful hurry.

"I'm in for a perfectly horrid time," said poor Derrick to himself. "I can see plain enough that she means to make fun of me all day."

Mrs. Halford's kind greeting and ready tact made the boy feel more at ease, and before they reached the new breaker—the first place to which he carried them—he felt that perhaps he might not be going to have such a very unpleasant day after all.

Both Mrs. Halford and Miss Nellie were greatly interested in watching the machinery of the breaker and the quick work of the slate-picker boys; but in spite of the jigs and the wet chutes the coal-dust was so thick that they did not feel able to remain there more than a few minutes.

As they came out Mrs. Halford said, "Poor little fellows! What a terribly hard life they must lead!"

"Yes, Mamma, it's awful," said Miss Nellie. "And don't they look just like little negro minstrels? I don't see, though, how they ever tell the slate from the coal. It all looks exactly alike to me."

"The slate isn't so black as the coal," explained Derrick, "and doesn't have the same shine."

They walked out over the great dump, and the ladies were amazed at its extent.

"Why, it seems as if every bit of slate, and coal too, ever dug in the mine must be piled up here!" exclaimed Miss Nellie.

"Oh no," said Derrick, "only about half the product of the mine is waste, and only part of that comes up here. A great quantity is dumped into the old breasts down in the workings to fill them up, and at the same time to get rid of it easily."

"But isn't there a great deal of coal that would burn in this mountain of refuse?" asked the girl.

"Yes, indeed, there is; and sometimes the piles get on fire, and then they seem to burn forever."

"I have an acquaintance in Philadelphia," said Mrs. Halford, "who has been trying experiments with the dust of these waste heaps. He pressed it in egg-shaped moulds, and has succeeded in making capital stove coal from it. The process is at present too expensive to be profitable, but I have no doubt that cheaper methods will be discovered, and that within a few years these culm piles will become valuable."

"What's the use of bothering with it when there's an inexhaustible supply of coal in the ground?" asked Miss Nellie.

"But there isn't," answered Derrick. "This coal region only covers a limited area, and some time every bit of fuel will be taken out of it. I have heard that it is the only place in the world where anthracite has been found. Isn't it, Mrs. Halford?"

"I believe so," answered that lady; "or at least the only place in which anthracite of such fine quality as this has been discovered. Inferior grades of hard coal are mined in several other localities, and bituminous or soft coal exists almost everywhere."

From the culm pile they went to see the great pumping-engine, and the huge fans that act as lungs to the mine, constantly forcing out the foul air and compelling fresh to enter it. Then, as the day was growing warm, they did not care to go any farther, but went back towards the house to prepare for their descent into the mine.

On their way they stopped to call on Mrs. Sterling at Derrick's home, which, covered with its climbing vines, offered a pleasing contrast to the unpainted, bare-looking houses lining the village street beyond it. Here both Mrs. Halford and Miss Nellie were greatly interested in Bill Tooley, of whom they had already heard. He could not be induced to enter into conversation with them, merely answering, "yes, 'm" or "no, 'm" to their questions; but from what he said after they had gone he evidently thought their call was intended solely for him. For a long time he cherished it in his memory, and often spoke of it as a most wonderful event.

Derrick took this opportunity to secure his lunch-pail and water-can, which he slung by their chains over his shoulder. When the ladies had prepared themselves for their mine expedition, he was amused to see that Miss Nellie was similarly equipped, she having found and appropriated those belonging to her uncle. Both the ladies wore old dresses, and India-rubber boots, which they had brought with them for this very purpose, and both were provided with waterproof cloaks.

At the mouth of the slope Derrick said something through a speaking-tube that reached down into the mine. Directly the clang of a gong was heard in the breaker above them, and the great wire cable, extending its vast length between the rails of the tracks, began to move. Two minutes later a new coal-car, one of a lot that had been delivered in the mine the day before, and had not yet been used, was drawn up out of the blackness to the mouth of the slope, and stopped in front of them. Some hay had been thrown into the bottom, and as the ladies were helped in, Miss Nellie exclaimed that it looked as though they were going on a straw-ride.

Handing each of them a lighted lantern to carry, and lighting the lamp on his cap, Derrick tugged at the wire leading to the distant engine-room, and gave the signal to lower. The car at once began to move, and as they felt themselves going almost straight down into the blackness between the wet, glistening walls of the slope, and were chilled by the cold breath of the mine, the mother and daughter clung to each other apprehensively.

At first they looked back and watched the little patch of daylight at the mouth of the slope grow rapidly smaller and more indistinct, until it looked almost like a star. Then Derrick warned them that there was danger of hitting their heads against the low roof, and said they must hold them below the sides of the car. When next they lifted them they were amid the wonders of the underground world, in the great chamber at the foot of the slope. They were surrounded by a darkness that was only made the more intense at a short distance from them by the glimmering lights of a group of miners who had gathered to watch their arrival. Here Derrick left them while he ran to the stable to get his mule.

The ladies did not get out of the car, but stood in it after the cable had been cast off, and watched the loaded coal-wagons as, one at a time, they were pushed to the foot of the slope, and quickly drawn up out of sight. During this interval their eyes gradually became accustomed to the lamp-lit darkness, so that they could see much better than at first.

In a few minutes their young guide returned, leading Harry Mule, whose swinging collar-lamp and wondering expression struck Miss Nellie as so comical that she could not help laughing at him.

"Haw! he-haw, he-haw, he-haw!" brayed Harry Mule, in answer to the unaccustomed sound; and at this greeting the girl laughed more heartily than ever.

The mule was hitched to the car, Derrick sprang in front, cracked the whip that had hung about his neck, and they started on what, to two of them at least, was the most novel ride they had ever undertaken.

When they reached his stable Harry Mule stopped short and refused to go on.

"What is the matter?" asked Miss Nellie.

"I expect he wants us to go in and see his house," answered Derrick.

"Why, I never heard of such a funny mule. Do you suppose he knows we are visitors?"

"Of course he does," answered the boy, gravely; "and he knows that visitors always want to see the mine stable."

So they all went in to look at it. In the long, low, narrow chamber, hewn from solid rock, were thirty stalls. Several of them were occupied by spare mules, who turned an inquiring gaze at the visitors, and blinked in the light of their lanterns. At one end were bales of hay and bags of oats, while just outside the door stood a long water-trough, which, as mine water is unfit for use, was supplied from above-ground through iron pipes brought down the slope. In spite of living in a continual midnight, so far from pastures and the light of day, which some of them did not see from one year's end to another, these mine mules were fat and sleek, and appeared perfectly contented with their lot.

Apparently satisfied that justice had been done to his place of abode, Harry Mule offered no further objection to moving on, when they again got into the car, and the stable was quickly left behind.

By-and-by Derrick called out "Door!"

As it opened for them to pass, and Paul Evert recognized his friend, he cried, "Oh, Derrick, Socrates—" Then seeing the visitors, he stopped abruptly, and stared at them in confusion.

"Never mind, Polly; we'll be back pretty soon," shouted Derrick, as the car rolled on, "and then you can tell us all about it."

"What did he say?" inquired Mrs. Halford.

"I didn't quite understand," replied Derrick; "but, if you don't mind, we'll go back there after a while and eat our lunch with Polly—he'd be so pleased!—and then we'll ask him."

"Who is Polly?" asked Miss Nellie.

"He's Paul Evert, my best friend, and he's a cripple."

"Oh, he's the boy you saved from the burning breaker! Yes, indeed, mamma, let's go back and eat our lunch with him."

Mrs. Halford agreed to this, and after they had visited the blacksmith's shop, where a cheery young fellow named Aleck was installed in Job Taskar's place, they went back to Paul's station.

Both the ladies were charmed with the gentle simplicity and quaintness of the crippled lad, and he thought he had never been so happy as in acting the part of host to this underground picnic party. He showed them all the strange and beautiful pictures on the walls of the gangway, and Derrick managed to break off for them a couple of thin scales of slate on which were impressed the delicate outlines of fern leaves.

Mrs. Halford sat in Paul's arm-chair, and he made a bench of the tally-board for Miss Nellie. The two boys were content to sit on the railway track, and each ate out of his or her own lunch-pail.

All at once Paul said, "'Sh! There they are! See!"

At this the visitors looked in the direction indicated, and both screamed.

"Oh, you've frightened them away!" said Paul, regretfully.

"Why, I do believe they were rats!" cried Mrs. Halford, in a tone of great surprise.

"Of course they were," answered Paul—"my rat Socrates and Mrs. Socrates and a whole lot of little Soc rats. I meant to tell you, Derrick; he brought them out this morning, his wife and a family of such cunning little fellows."

When the ladies had heard the whole story of Socrates the rat, and how wise he was, they became greatly interested, and wished he would appear again.

"He will," said Paul, "if we only keep quiet. He's too wise to stay away at lunch-time, but he don't like loud talking."

So they all kept very quiet, and sure enough the rat did come back after a little while, and sitting upon his hind-legs, gravely surveyed the party. In the gloom behind him could be seen the shining beady eyes of some members of his family, who made comical attempts to sit up as he did.

Being duly fed, they all scampered away with squeaks of thanks, and soon afterwards Harry Mule broke up the picnic by coming jingling back from his stable, to which he had been sent for dinner.

"I think he is just the very dearest old mule I ever saw," said Miss Nellie, when they were once more seated in the car, and Harry, was taking them towards a distant heading.

"Yes, indeed, he is," answered Derrick, proud to hear his mule thus praised; "and I love him as much as—as he loves me," he finished, with a laugh.

They spent several hours in visiting different parts of the mine, and becoming acquainted with all the details of its many operations. At the end of one heading they found the miners who had just finished drilling a hole deep in the wall of coal beyond them, and were about to fire a blast. The visitors were intensely interested in watching their operations. First a cartridge of stiff brown paper and powder was made. The paper was rolled into the shape of a long cylinder, about as big round as a broom-handle, the end of a fuse was inserted in the powder with which it was filled, and the cartridge was thrust into the hole just prepared for it. Then it was tamped with clay, the fuse was lighted, the miners uttered loud cries of "Blast ho!" and everybody ran away to a safe distance.

In less than a minute came a dull roar that echoed and re-echoed through the long galleries. It was followed by a great upheaval of coal, a dense cloud of smoke, and the blast was safely over.

These miners had a loaded car ready to be hauled away. One of them asked Derrick if he would mind hitching it on behind his empty car, and drawing it to the junction, adding that the boy who had taken his place that day was too slow to live.

"All right," said Derrick. "I guess we can take it for you."

So, with two cars instead of one to pull, Harry Mule was started towards the junction. On the way they had to pass through a door in charge of a boy who had only come into the mine that day. This door opened towards them, and they approached it on a slightly descending grade.

As they drew near to it, with Harry Mule trotting briskly along, Derrick shouted, "Door!"

Again he shouted, louder than before, "Door! door! Holloa there! what's the matter?"

The little door-tender, unaccustomed to the utter silence and solitude of the situation, sat fast asleep in his chair. At last Derrick's frantic shoutings roused him, and he sprang to his feet, but too late. A crash, a wild cry, and poor Harry Mule lay on the floor of the gangway, crushed between the heavy cars and the solid, immovable door!



CHAPTER XIV

A LIFE IS SAVED AND DERRICK IS PROMOTED

Mrs. Halford and her daughter were flung rudely forward to the end of the car by the shock of the collision, and were, of course, badly frightened, as well as considerably shaken up and somewhat bruised. They were not seriously hurt, however, and with Derrick's assistance they got out of the car and stood on the door-tender's platform.

Derrick sent the boy who had been so sleepy, but who was now wide-awake and crying with fright, back to ask the miners they had just left to come to their assistance. Then he turned his attention to Harry Mule. The poor beast was not dead, but was evidently badly injured. He was jammed so tightly between the cars and the door that he could not move, and the light of Derrick's lamp disclosed several ugly-looking cuts in his body, from which blood was flowing freely.

The tears streamed down the boy's face as he witnessed the suffering of his dumb friend, and realized how powerless he was to do anything to relieve it. He was not a bit ashamed of these signs of grief when he felt a light touch on his arm, and turning, saw Nellie Halford, with eyes also full of tears, standing beside him, and gazing pityingly at the mule.

"Will he die, do you think?" she asked.

"I don't know, but I'm afraid so, or that he's too badly hurt to be made well again, and so will have to be killed."

"No, he sha'n't be killed. My uncle sha'n't let him. If he does, I'll never love him again!" exclaimed Miss Nellie, with determined energy. "Poor old mule! poor Harry! you shall have everything in the world done for you if you only won't die," she added, stooping and patting the animal's head with her soft hand.

Feebly lifting his head and pricking forward his great ears, Harry Mule opened his eyes, and looked at the girl for a moment so earnestly that she almost thought he was going to speak to her. Then the big, wondering eyes were closed again, and the shaggy head sank on the wet roadway, but Nellie felt that she had been thanked for her pitying words and gentle touch.

After a while the little door-tender came hurrying back, followed by the men for whom he had been sent. They were much excited over the accident, on account of the character of the visitors who had been sufferers from it, and were inclined to use very harsh language towards the boy whose neglect of duty had caused it. This, however, was prevented by Mrs. Halford, who declared she would not have the little fellow abused. She said it was a burning shame that children of his age were allowed in the mines at all, and it was no wonder they went to sleep, after sitting all alone for hours without anything to occupy their thoughts, in that awful darkness and silence.

The loaded car proved so heavy that it had to be unloaded before it could be moved. Then the empty car was pushed back from Harry Mule, and he made a frantic struggle to regain his feet. After several unsuccessful attempts he finally succeeded, and stood trembling in the roadway. It was now seen that he had the use of only three legs, and an examination showed his right fore-leg to be broken.

"He'll never do no more work in this mine," said one of the men. "The poor beast will have to be killed."

"He sha'n't be killed! He sha'n't, I say. We won't have him killed; will we, mother?" cried Nellie Halford, her voice trembling with emotion.

"No, dear, not if anything we can do will prevent it," answered the mother, gently.

"Don't you think," continued the girl, turning to Derrick, "that he might be mended if anybody would take the time and trouble?"

"Yes, I think he might, because there is a mule at work in the mine now that had a broken leg, and they cured him. He was a young mule, though. I'm afraid they won't bother with one so old as Harry."

"He's listening to every word we say," interrupted the girl, "and I do believe he understands too. Just look at him!"

The wounded mule was standing in a dejected attitude on the very spot where he had been so badly hurt; but his patient face, with its big eyes, was turned inquiringly towards them, and it did seem as though he were listening anxiously to the conversation about himself.

He managed to limp a few steps away from the door, so that it could be opened, and was then left in charge of the little door-tender, who was instructed to keep him as still as possible.

After the miners had given the empty car a start, Derrick found that he could keep it in motion, and undertook to push it as far as the junction, Mrs. Halford and Miss Nellie following on foot. The two miners remained upon the scene of the accident to refill the car they had been compelled to unload.

The ladies and Derrick had gone but a short distance when they heard, faintly, through the closed door behind them, a plaintive "Haw, he-haw, he-haw, he-haw."

As Nellie Halford said, it sounded exactly as though poor dear old Harry Mule were begging them not to leave him.

They had nearly reached the junction when a cheery voice rang out of the gloom ahead of them, saying,

"Holloa there! where's your mule? and where's your light? You wouldn't run over a stranger, would you?"

"I'm the mule," replied Derrick, as, panting and perspiring with his exertions, he looked around a rear corner of the car to see who was coming.

"Why, Derrick, is that you?" inquired the voice, in a tone of great surprise. "What has happened? where are the ladies?"

"Oh, Warren!" exclaimed Mrs. Halford, from somewhere back in the darkness, "I'm so thankful to see—I mean to hear—you. Here we are."

"But I don't understand," said Mr. Jones, for it was he who had so unexpectedly come to their assistance. "What is the meaning of all this? Where's the bumping-mule?"

"We had a collision with a door," explained Miss Nellie, "and poor Harry Mule got crushed. His leg's broken, and he's all cut up. But oh, Uncle Warren, you won't have him killed, will you?"

"I can't promise until I find out how badly he is injured."

"Oh, but you must, Uncle Warren. If you have him killed, I'll never love you again," insisted Miss Nellie, repeating the threat she had already made.

"Well, dear, I'll promise this: he shall not be killed unless I can show you that it is the best thing to be done, and you give your consent."

"Then he'll live to be an old, old mule!" cried Miss Nellie, joyfully; "for I'll never, never consent to have him killed."

As the ladies once more got into the car, and the mine boss helped Derrick push it towards the junction, Mrs. Halford said, "How do you happen to be back so early, Warren? I thought you were to be gone all day."

"Why, so I have been," he answered, with some surprise. "Don't you call from six o'clock in the morning to nearly the same hour of the evening all day?"

"You don't mean to say that it is nearly six o'clock?"

"I do; for that witching hour is certainly near at hand."

"Well, I never knew a day to pass so quickly in my life. I didn't suppose it was more than three o'clock, at the latest."

"It is, though; and to understand how time passes down in a mine, you have but to remember two often quoted sayings. One is, 'Time is money,' and the other, 'Money vanishes down the throat of a mine more quickly than smoke up a chimney.' Ergo, time vanishes quickly down in a mine. Is not that a good bit of logic for you?"

Both the ladies laughed at this nonsense, but it served to divert their minds from the painful scene they had just witnessed, and therefore accomplished its purpose.

From the junction Mr. Jones sent some men back to get Harry Mule and take him to the stable, where his injuries could be examined and his wounds dressed. He also ordered a report to be made concerning them that evening. Then the ladies' car was attached to a train of loaded coal-wagons, and the party were thus taken to the foot of the slope.

As the great wire cable began to strain, and they started slowly up the slope towards the outer world, both Mrs. Halford and Miss Nellie looked back regretfully into the mysterious depths behind them.

"I wouldn't have believed that in a few hours this awful place could exercise such a fascination over me," said the former. "I really hate to leave it, and wish we were coming down again to-morrow."

"So do I," exclaimed Miss Nellie; "and if I were a boy, I'd study to be an engineer, and spend my life down among the 'black diamonds' of the coal-mines."

Did this girl know of the hopes and ambitions of the boy who sat beside her? This question flashed through his mind; but he quickly answered it for himself: "Of course not, Derrick Sterling. What a fool you are to fancy such a thing! She only knows and thinks of you, if she thinks of you at all, as a mule-driver, such as she has seen a dozen of to-day."

Although the sun had set when they reached the top of the slope, and a breeze was blowing, the outer air felt oppressively warm after that of the mine, and the ladies became suddenly aware of a weariness they had not before felt.

Derrick was made very happy, and almost forgot for a time his sadness at Harry Mule's pitiable condition, when Mr. Jones invited him to come and take tea with them. Joyfully accepting the invitation, the lad hastened home to change his clothes, and the others, walking more slowly gazed after him.

"I think he's splendid!" exclaimed Miss Nellie, with the outspoken decision that generally marked the expression of her thoughts; "and I do hope he will have a chance to become a mining engineer."

"He will, if he keeps on trying for it as he has begun," said her uncle. "Any boy, no matter if he is born and brought up a gentleman, as Derrick Sterling certainly was, who goes in at the very bottom of any business, determined to climb to the top, will find a way to do it."

"I like to see a boy not ashamed to do dirty work, if that is what his duty calls him to do," said Mrs. Halford. "He comes out all the brighter and cleaner by contrast when the dirt is washed off."

If Derrick's right ear did not burn and tingle with all this praise, it ought to have done so; but perhaps he was too busy telling the exciting news of the day at home to notice it.

He did not walk past the Jones's house, nor hesitate before ringing the door-bell on this occasion, as he had the evening before, but stepped up to it with all the boldness of one who was about to meet and greet old acquaintances. Besides, his mind was too full of the sad fate that had befallen his mule to admit of more than the briefest consideration of personal feelings.

At the supper-table the conversation was wholly of mines, collieries, and the perils of miners' lives, in regard to which Mr. Jones related a number of interesting incidents.

"How wonderful it is!" said Miss Nellie, who had listened to all this with eager attention. "Who first discovered coal, anyway, Uncle Warren? and how did people find out that it would burn?"

"If you mean who discovered anthracite coal, I believe the credit is generally given to a man named Philip Gunter, who lived in a cabin on the side of a mountain not far from where we are now sitting. He was a hunter; and the story goes that one day in the year 1791 he had been out hunting for many hours, without securing any game, which made him feel very badly, for when he left home that morning there was no food in the house. Towards night he was returning, greatly depressed in spirits, and paying so little heed to his footsteps that he stumbled and fell over some obstacle. Stooping to see what it was, he found a black stone, different from any he had ever before noticed. He had, however, heard of stone coal, and thought perhaps this might be a lump of that substance. Having nothing else to carry, he decided to take it home as a curiosity. Soon afterwards he gave it to a friend, who sent it to Philadelphia, where it was pronounced to be genuine coal. A few gentlemen became interested in this discovery, and formed themselves in the 'Lehigh Coal-mine Company.' A mine was opened, and four laborers were employed to work it; but as there was no way of getting the coal they mined to market they were soon discharged, and the project was abandoned for the time being.

"Nothing further was done until 1817, when Colonel George Shoemaker, of Pottsville, took four wagon-loads of anthracite coal to Philadelphia, and tried to sell it there. People laughed at him for telling them that those black stones would burn; but he guaranteed that they would. Upon this a number of persons bought small quantities on trial; but all their efforts failed to set it on fire. Then they became very angry, and tried to have Colonel Shoemaker thrown into prison for cheating them. He fled from the city, pursued by officers who held warrants for his arrest. Finally he managed to elude them, and reached his home, thoroughly disgusted with coal, and ready to swear that he would have nothing more to do with it.

"In the mean time a lot of the black stones had been purchased for trial by the Fairmount Nail-works. It was placed in one of the furnaces, and the proprietor spent a whole morning with his men in trying to make the stuff burn. They were unsuccessful, and finally, completely disheartened by their failure, they shut the furnace door and went off to dinner, uttering loud threats against the man who had sold them such worthless trash. Upon their return to the works they were filled with amazement, for the furnace door was red hot, and a fire of the most intense heat was roaring and blazing behind it. Since that time there has been no difficulty in selling anthracite coal nor in making it burn. Now the production of coal in this country has reached such enormous proportions that its annual value is equal to that of all the gold, silver, and iron mined in the United States during the year."

Just here Mr. Jones was interrupted by the arrival of the report of Harry Mule's condition. It was very brief, and pronounced the animal to be so badly injured, and his chances of recovery so slight, that it would cost more to attempt to cure him than he was worth.

"Now what am I to do about him?" asked Mr. Jones.

"I want to buy that mule, Warren," said Mrs. Halford.

"Please give him to me," pleaded Miss Nellie.

"I should like to have a chance to try and cure him," said Derrick; and all these requests were made at once.

Mr. Jones looked at them with a puzzled smile, thought a moment, and then said, "All right: I will sell him to you, sister, for one cent, provided you will give him to Nellie, and that she will leave him with Derrick to care for and cure if he can."

"That's a splendid plan!" cried Miss Nellie.

"Have you any place in which to take care of him?" asked Mrs. Halford of Derrick.

"Yes," answered the boy, "we have a little empty stable back of our house that will make a tip-top mule hospital."

"Then it's a bargain, Warren; and if you take care of him, Derrick, you must let me pay all the doctor's bills, and furnish all necessary hay, corn, and oats."

Thus it was decided that Harry Mule should be restored to health and usefulness, if money, skill, and kind care could do it.

Before Derrick left, the mine boss said to him, "Now that there is no Harry Mule for you to drive, I am going to promote you, and let you work with Tom Evert as his helper. In that position you will gain a thoroughly practical knowledge of mining. You may report to him to-morrow."



CHAPTER XV

A "SQUEEZE" AND A FALL OF ROCK

As it was impossible for Harry Mule to climb the gigantic stairway of the travelling-road, his legs were bound so that he could not move them, a platform was laid across two coal-cars from which the sides had been removed, and he was placed on this, and firmly lashed to it. In this manner he was drawn to the top of the slope, and from there he managed to limp, though with great difficulty and very slowly, to the little stable behind the Sterlings' house.

Here, by order of the mine boss, carpenters had been at work since early morning making a roomy box-stall in place of two small ones, and providing it with a broad sling of strong canvas, which was hung from eye-bolts inserted in beams overhead. This was passed beneath the mule's belly, and drawn so that while he could stand on three legs if he wished, he could also rest the whole weight of his body upon it.

After Harry Mule was thus made as comfortable as possible, a skilful veterinary surgeon set his broken leg, and bound it so firmly with splints that it could not possibly move. He also sewed up the cuts on various parts of the animal's body, and said that with good care he thought the patient might recover, though his leg would probably always be stiff.

These operations occupied the attention of Mr. Jones, the Halfords, and the Sterling family, including Derrick, until noon, when it was time for Mrs. Halford and Miss Nellie to take the train for Philadelphia.

Before leaving, Mrs. Halford had an interview with Bill Tooley, who was now able to hobble about with the aid of a crutch. She said that if he would, under Derrick's direction, take care of Harry Mule, and see that all his wants were promptly supplied until he got well, she would pay him the same wages that he could earn by working in the breaker.

Of course Bill gratefully accepted this offer; and either because he had a feeling of sympathy for an animal that was suffering in much the same way that he was, or because his own trials and the kindness shown him had really softened his nature, he proved a capital and most attentive nurse.

Often after this, when Derrick entered the stable unexpectedly, he discovered these two cripples engaged in conversation. At least he would find Bill Tooley perched on the edge of the manger, where he balanced himself with his crutch, talking in his uncouth way to the mule; while the latter, with great ears pricked forward, and wondering eyes fixed unwinkingly upon the speaker, seemed to pay most earnest attention to all that he said.

As Derrick watched the train bearing his recently made friends roll away from the little station, and disappear around a sharp curve in the valley, he experienced a feeling of sadness, for which he was at first unable to account. In thinking it over, he decided that it was because he felt sorry to have anybody go away who had been so kind to his much-loved bumping-mule.

Turning away from the station, he walked slowly back to the mouth of the slope, jumped into an empty car, and was lowered into the mine.

Why did the place appear so strange to him? All the interest, of which it had seemed so full but the day before, was gone from it, and Derrick felt that he hated these underground delvings. A feeling of dread came over him as he started along one of the gangways in search of Tom Evert, to whom he had been ordered to report for duty. The air seemed close and suffocating, and the lamps to burn with a more sickly flame than usual. To the boy the faces of the miners looked haggard, and their voices sounded unnaturally harsh. He overheard one of them say, "Ay, she's working, there's no doubt o' that; but it's naught to worrit over; just a bit settlin' into place like."

Derrick wondered, as he passed out of hearing, what the man meant; and as he wondered he was startled by a sharp report like the crack of a rifle, only much louder, and a horrible grinding, crushing sound that came from the rock wall of the gangway close beside him. The sound filled him with such terror that he fled from it, running at full speed through the black, dripping gallery. He ran until he came to a group of miners who were strengthening the roof with additional props and braces of new timber. He told them of his fright, and they laughed at him.

"He's heerd t' mine a-talking, and got skeert at her voice," said one.

"She's allus a-cracklin' an' a-sputterin' when she's uneasy and workin' hersel' comfortable like; don't ye know that, lad? It's only a 'squeeze.' Sich noises means naught but warnin's to put in a few new timbers here and there," explained another, more kindly. He was an old man, in that his cheeks were sunken and his hair was gray, though he had lived less than forty years. This is counted old among miners, for their terrible life and the constant inhaling of coal-dust ages them very rapidly. Seeing him thus aged, and feeling that he would be less likely to ridicule him than the others, Derrick ventured to ask him if there was really any danger of a general caving in of that part of the mine.

"Hoot, lad! there's allus danger in t' mine," was the reply. "But if ye mean is there more now than ordinary, I'd answer ye 'No.' It's a common thing this squeezing and settling of a mine, and times there's men killed by it, but more often it's quieted without harm bein' done. No, no, lad; haud ye no fears! I'd bid ye gang oot an' I thocht ye war in danger."

Although Derrick was greatly comforted by these words, he could not help dreading to hear more of the rock explosions, which are caused by the roof, walls, and pillars of the mine giving slightly beneath the vast crushing weight of material above them. When he reached Paul Evert's station, and found that the crippled lad had heard some of the same loud snappings and crackings, but was not alarmed at them, he felt ashamed of his own fears, and casting them entirely aside, asked to see what the other was drawing.

Paul was very fond of drawing with a pencil, or bit of charcoal, or anything that came to his hand, on all sorts of surfaces, and really showed great skill in his rude sketches of the common objects about him. Since coming into the mine he had found more time to indulge his taste than ever before; and though his only light was the wretched little lamp in his cap, he had produced some beautiful copies of the dainty ferns and curious patterns imprinted on the walls about him. He had also afforded Derrick great amusement by making for him several sketches of Socrates the wise rat in various attitudes. Until this time he had never hesitated before showing his friend any of his efforts, but now he did, and it was only after much urging that he reluctantly handed Derrick the sheet of paper on which he had been working.

It was an outline sketch of the figures composing their underground picnic party of the day before, including Socrates, and Derrick had no sooner set eyes on it than he declared he must have it.

"I was doing it for you, 'Dare,'" said Paul, using his especial pet name for Derrick, which he never did except when they were alone. "But you must let me finish it, and that will take some time; there is so much to put in, and my light is so bad."

Derrick was obliged to agree to this, though he would have valued the sketch just as it was, and handing it back, he went on towards where Paul thought his father was at work. At last he found him, in a distant heading that was exhausted and about to be abandoned, engaged in the dangerous task of "robbing back."

In cutting into a vein it is often necessary to leave walls and pillars of solid coal standing to support the roof, and when the workings about them are exhausted it is customary to break away these supports for the sake of what coal they contain. This is called "robbing back," and is so dangerous a job that only the very best and most experienced miners are intrusted with it. Sometimes the roof, thus robbed of its support, falls, and sometimes it does not. If it does fall, perhaps the miner "robber" gets killed, and perhaps he escapes entirely, or with only bruises and cuts.

Tom Evert was a "company man"; that is, he received regular wages from the company owning the mine, no matter what quantity of coal he sent out, or what kind of work he was engaged upon. Most of the other men were paid so much per cubic yard, or so much by the car-load, for all the coal they mined. Evert was considered one of the best workmen in the mine, and for that reason was often employed on the most dangerous jobs. On this occasion he was "robbing back" in company with another skilful miner; but they had only one helper between them. The burly miner would have been glad to welcome any addition to their force, but he greeted Derrick with especial cordiality, for the boy was a great favorite with him.

"It does me good to see thee, lad," he exclaimed, when Derrick reported to him as helper, "and I'll be proud to have thy feyther's son working alongside of me. Pick up yon shovel and help load the wagon, while we tackle this chunk a bit more, and see if we can't fetch it."

A miner's helper has to do all kinds of work, such as running to the blacksmith's with tools that need sharpening, directing the course of drills beneath the heavy hammer blows, holding lamps in dark places, loading cars, or anything else for which he may prove useful. Shovelling coal into a car is perhaps the hardest of all, and this was what Derrick was now set at. It was hard, back-aching work, but he was fresh and strong, and he took hold of it heartily and vigorously.

Suddenly he dropped his shovel, sprang at Tom Evert who was stooping down to pick up a drill, and gave him so violent a push that he was sent sprawling on his face some little distance away. Carried forward by his own impetus, Derrick fell on top of the prostrate miner. Behind, and so close to them that they were covered with its flying splinters, crashed down the great pillar of coal, weighing several tons, that the "robbers" had been working on. It had unexpectedly given way before their efforts, and would have crushed Tom Evert beyond human recognition but for Derrick's quick eye and prompt action.

When the big miner regained his feet he appeared dazed, and seemed not to realize the full character of the danger he had so narrowly escaped. He gazed at the fallen mass for a moment, and then, appreciating what had happened, he seized Derrick's hand, and shaking it warmly, said, "That's one I owe thee, lad. Now we'll knock off, for I'll do no more 'robbing' this day."

On their way to the foot of the slope the little party met the mine boss, superintending the placing of new timbers, and taking such other precautions as his experience suggested against the effects of the "squeeze," which still continued, though less violently than when Derrick entered the mine. He was surprised at seeing them thus early, for it wanted nearly an hour of quitting-time. When he heard of Tom Evert's narrow escape, he acknowledged that they had a good excuse for knocking off, and complimented Derrick upon his presence of mind.

"By-the-way, Tom," he said, "you may quit 'robbing' for a few days. I want you and your partner to go down on the lower level and pipe off the water that's collecting in the old gangway—the one in which Job Taskar was killed, you know."

"It'll be a ticklish job, boss."

"I know it, and that's the reason I send the steadiest man in the mine to do it. It's got to be done by somebody, or else it will break through some day and flood the whole lower level."

"All right, sir; I'll do my best wi' it; but I'll be mor'n glad when it's safe done."

With this Tom Evert went on towards the slope; but Derrick stayed behind with the mine boss to learn what he might of the operation of placing the timber supports of a mine roof.

He had not watched this work long when a distant muffled sound, something like that of a blast, and yet plainly not produced by an explosion, reached their ears. Although not loud, it was an ominous, awe-inspiring sound; and Derrick would have taken to his heels and made for the bottom of the slope had not his pride kept him where he was.

To his surprise the mine boss, who had listened intently to the sound while it lasted, seemed to regard it as a most natural occurrence. Giving a few directions to his men, he turned to the boy, saying, "Come, Derrick, let us go and see what is the trouble back in there."

For an instant Derrick looked at him to see if he were really in earnest; then realizing that he was, he followed him without a word.

When they reached Paul Evert's door, the mine boss said, "It's quitting-time, Paul; so get out of this as quickly as you can. It is just possible that we may all have to run," he explained to Derrick, after Paul had obeyed his order and left them, "and in that case all those using crutches will need a good start."

Of course this did not greatly reassure Derrick, and he would gladly have followed his friend Paul had not duty commanded him to remain with his friend the mine boss.

Finally they reached the place where, less than an hour before, Derrick had been helping to "rob" the old heading; and here they discovered the cause of the sound they had heard. The roof above that entire set of workings, so far as they could judge, had fallen; and had not Tom Evert decided to quit work when he did, it is probable that no trace would ever have been found of him or those with him.

Derrick felt deeply thankful that his life had been thus preserved, as he walked thoughtfully beside the mine boss away from the scene of disaster.

"How invariably Nature asserts herself in the end, and defies the puny efforts of man to alter her ways," said Mr. Jones to himself, musingly. Then to his companion he said, "I brought you with me to try you, Derrick. I hated to come myself, for I did not know what might be going on, after all these squeezes and movements of the mine. It had to be done, though, and it seemed a good opportunity for testing your courage, so I asked you to come with me. As a mining engineer, you will often be called upon to perform similar unpleasant and dangerous tasks."

"I was afraid, and didn't want to come one bit," said Derrick, with a nervous laugh.

"That doesn't make any difference. I was afraid too, but we came all the same. The proof of your courage is not whether you are afraid to do a thing or not, but whether or not you do it."

So Derrick's courage was tested, and withstood the test, which was indeed fortunate; for, within a short time, he was to be placed in a position that would try the courage of the bravest man in the world.



CHAPTER XVI

BURSTING OF AN UNDERGROUND RESERVOIR

Upon reaching the surface that evening, Derrick and the mine boss found that the weather had greatly changed since noon and that a storm threatened. It set in that night, and the rain poured down in a steady, determined sort of way, as though it had made up its mind that this time, at least, the earth should be thoroughly watered.

When Derrick joined the other miners at the mouth of the slope in the morning, it was still raining, and as they were lowered into the underground world, the men joked with each other about getting in out of the wet, and pitied the poor fellows who were obliged to work above-ground on such a day.

Descending the second slope into the lowest level of the mine, Tom Evert and his party made an examination of the place in which they were to work. The new excavations on this level were of limited extent, work having only recently been begun on them; but a powerful pump had been placed at the top of the slope leading down into them, and it was to bring the accumulated water in the old workings within reach of it that the mine boss had sent them down.

Going up the old gangway, past the chamber at the foot of the air-shaft which Derrick had such good reason to remember, they soon came to the fallen mass of rock, coal, and earth through which they were to cut a channel and insert a pipe for the release of the water beyond. The material was too loose for blasting, so the work had to be done with pick and shovel, and the debris removed with wheel-barrows, and distributed along the gangway. It was hard, dangerous, and exhausting work, and at the end of three days Derrick was heartily tired of it.

Still the rain poured steadily down, and people in the upper world began to talk of danger from floods, and great damage to the ungathered crops. Even in the mine the effect of the heavy rain began to be noticed. The drippings from the roof fell thicker and faster, the tricklings down the walls became little rivulets, and the black streams in the ditches swirled along angrily. The great pumps worked steadily, night and day, at their fullest speed, and from the mouths of the waste-pipes young rivers of black water were poured; but the mine grew constantly wetter and more uncomfortable.

Finally the mine boss decided that it was almost time to temporarily abandon the lower workings, and allow them to fill up, so that the whole force of both pumps might be directed towards keeping the upper level free of water. He spoke to Tom Evert of this, and the latter begged for just one day more, as he thought he had nearly cut through to the water, and was anxious to get the pipe laid, and have that job off his hands.

"Very well," said Mr. Jones, "you may have one day, Tom, and no more until after the rain stops; for without both pumps in the upper level we shall, very soon, have to shut down altogether."

During the morning of that fourth day they uncovered a wall of rock, which barred their way completely, and Tom Evert decided that at least one blast would be necessary to force an opening through it. After lunch-time he left the other miner, with the two helpers, to drill a hole in it, while he went up into the village to procure some powder and fuse for the work.

Those left below had not been long at work when Derrick noticed a little stream of water spurting out at one side of the rock. He called the attention of the miner to it, and he, without a word, sprang to the place and tried to check the stream, first with earth, and then with strips torn from his shirt, but could not. As he stopped its flow at one point, it burst out at another.

Finally he exclaimed, "It's no use, boys! we'll never be able to draw this water off through any pipe; it's going to take that business into its own hands, and the best thing we can do is to get out of here quick as we know how."

Even as he spoke there came a rattling rush of earth and loose rock, followed by the roar of angry waters, as they leaped out of the blackness like a savage animal upon its prey. The long pent-up waters, swollen by the heavy rains and scorning any effort to draw them off gradually, had burst forth in all their fury, and in less time than it takes to write of it, the old gangway was filled with the surging torrent.

At the first outbreak Derrick and his companions started to run for their lives down the gangway, but as they reached the door of the Mollies' meeting-room the torrent was upon them. They had barely time to spring inside the door and close it as the mad waters swept past. The door offered but a momentary protection, but ere it had been crushed in they were climbing the old air-shaft towards the upper level. It was a desperate undertaking, for the few timber braces left by those who had cut the shaft were so far apart that often they had to dig little holes for their hands and feet in the coal of the sides, and thus work their way slowly and painfully upward. It was their only chance, and they knew it, for they could hear the detached bits of falling coal and rock splash into the water as it rose in the shaft behind them.

Finally they reached the top. As they drew themselves wearily, with almost the last of their strength, over the edge, and lay on the floor of the gangway, they were filled with new terror at seeing the light from their lamps reflected in the black waters apparently but a few feet below them. The water was evidently rising into the upper level, and before long their present place of refuge would be flooded. Urged by this peril, they made all possible speed down the gangway into the new workings at the foot of the slope, where they were confronted by a scene of the greatest confusion.

The gangways, headings, chambers, and breasts of the lower vein were already full of the turbid flood, and the few miners who had been at work down there had barely escaped with their lives into the level above. Now the water was rising so rapidly that it was evident the upper level would also be flooded in a few minutes.

In the great chamber at the bottom of the slope that led to the upper world and safety, miners were flocking from all parts of the workings. Some were trying to drive frightened mules up the travelling-road; others were throwing movable property into cars to be drawn up the slope, and others still were crowding into the same cars, that they too might reach a place of safety.

The two men who were with Derrick ran to one of these cars, calling on him to follow them. It was already so crowded that they could not wedge themselves into it, so they clung on behind, and were thus dragged up the slope.

That Derrick did not follow them was because he thought of Paul Evert. Poor little lame Paul! where was he amid all this danger and confusion? Had he already got out of the mine, or was he still at his station back in the dark gangway, unmindful of danger? Perhaps somebody had seen him. Derrick shouted, "Where is Paul Evert? Has anybody seen him?"

The answer came in the voice of one of the mule-boys. "Yes, I seed him, 'bout five minutes ago, when I run out de las' load. He ain't come out yet."

Could Derrick leave him down there, to take his chances of getting out or drowning, while he sought safety for himself?

With one instant of agonized thought he decided that he could not. Snatching up a can of oil on which his eye happened to light as it stood by the track just at the foot of the slope, he dashed into gangway No. 1, shouting as he did so, "I'm going to try and get Paul Evert out! If we don't get back come and look for us; we'll hold out as long as we can."

They tried to stop him, and shouted to him to come back; that there was no hope, and he was only throwing away his own life; but he paid no attention to them, and was gone before they could prevent him.

He had hardly disappeared from their sight when the water began to rush and roar up from the mouth of the lower slope, in a froth-crowned, surging torrent. At the same instant it poured out from the old gangway, to which it had access through the air-shaft up which Derrick and his companions had escaped.

They knew by its great leaps and spurts that some other reservoir had broken loose, and that before it found the level it was seeking the whole mine must be flooded and drowned. There was no more thought of saving property, but each man became intent only on escaping with his life from the swirling flood.

They had got several cars fastened together, ready for such an emergency, and now these were quickly filled with grimy-faced, frightened men and boys. The signal was given to hoist. There came a strain on the great cable, and as the fierce waters rushed at them, and even flung their black, wet arms about them as if to hold them back, the cars were drawn up, slowly up, beyond reach of the destroying flood, towards daylight and safety.

At the top of the slope was another scene of wild anxiety and confusion most pitiable to witness. Men, women, and children stood, without other protection than their thin garments, in the pitiless rain, praying, shouting, discussing, asking questions which nobody could answer, and crowding forward to scan, with breathless anxiety, the faces of each car-load of miners as it reached the surface.

At the mouth of the slope stood Mr. Jones, in constant communication with a trusty fellow down in the mine, at the other end of the speaking-tube. With him were half a dozen steady men, upon whom he could depend, and to whom he had given orders not to allow a living soul to go down in any of the empty cars he was despatching as rapidly as possible to those below,

"There are plenty down there now," he said, "and perhaps more than can be drawn up before the water reaches them. You can do no good there yet awhile. When the time comes that I want volunteers to go down I'll let you know fast enough." He kept the mouth of the travelling-road similarly guarded, and no one was allowed to descend.

Among those who pressed close to him, and begged, almost with tears in their eyes, to be allowed to go down and make one effort to save their loved ones before the waters reached them, was burly Tom Evert.

"My lad, my crippled lad's down there, boss; ye can't refuse a feyther the chance to save his boy," pleaded the big miner.

"Tom, if he's not already at the foot of the slope, you know as well as I that there's not one chance in ten thousand of finding and getting him out. They tell me the water's rising fast on the upper level already. No, my poor fellow, you must wait a bit. You're to be my right-hand man in the work that I fear is ahead of us. I can't let you throw away your life without a chance of its doing good."

"And Derrick, boss, the brave lad I left in the low level facing the waters. It's fearful to think on. If he's drownded and my lad's drownded, their death'll be on my hands. I might ha' gone more slow and cautious like. I might ha' kep' out altogether the day, an' let the low level flood, as ye talked of, boss, but for being a pig-headed fool."

"Don't take on that way, Tom. Cheer up, man. You'll see them all coming up out of the trouble safe and sound yet. And don't take this matter to heart as you're doing. If there's any blame to be placed it's on my head; but I don't think there's blame to be placed on any of us. There's One above who rules such matters, and who sends rain and floods as He does the sunshine, all for some wise purpose."

Just then word came up the speaking-tube that the water was gaining so fast that all hands were about to leave the mine. At the same instant the harsh clang of the engine-room gong was heard. The wire cable was strained taut, and then began to move slowly over its rollers. "They are coming!" shouts the mine boss. "Stand back and give them room."

But the crowd could not stand back. Who were coming? Were all there, or were some left? It was not in human nature to stand back. They must see, and learn the worst at once.

Oh, how slowly the cable moved! How terrible was the suspense! A great silence fell upon the waiting people. It was unbroken save by the creaking of the rollers on the slope, the pattering of raindrops, and an occasional hysterical sob.

At last the twinkling lights are seen down in the blackness. Then the first car comes in sight; then another, and another, until at last the entire train, with its human freight, has reached the surface.

"Stay where you are, men!" commands the mine boss, "Answer to your names as I call them off."

The young man's voice rings out sharp and clear as he calls the long roll, beginning, "Adams, Andrews, Apgar," and so on down the alphabet to "Zegler"; and clear and prompt come back the answers, "Here, here, here," of those who have come up from the pit.

At last it is finished, and the awful truth is known. Nine men and boys are unaccounted for, and they were not at the foot of the slope when the cruel waters sprang into the great chamber and the last car was drawn up. Nine are down there, alive or dead; and among them are Derrick Sterling, Paul Evert, and Monk Tooley.

With the cries and tears of joy over those who had come up and were restored to loving hearts, a shudder passed over the assembly, and a groan of anguish rose from it that was pierced by a single sharp cry. It was that of a widowed mother for her only son.

Springing on an empty car, and standing where all could see him, the mine boss spoke to them.

"It will all come out right yet," he said. "Keep up your courage. Those brave fellows down there are not going to let themselves be drowned like rats in a hole. They'll make a strong fight for life first, and it's going to be a fight that we can help them in. They're safe enough for the present, in some high place beyond the reach of the water, and there they'll stay till we go for them and fetch them out. We'll have two more pumps here and at work before morning. They will soon make room for us to work down there. Then if we don't find the lads we're after, we are no miners, that's all. There's a promise for you now! See it, men?"

With this the speaker pointed to the eastern sky, and all eyes were turned in that direction. From horizon to horizon it was spanned by a glorious rainbow. One end rested on the opposite side of their own valley, above the old workings of the mine, while the other was uplifted on a lofty mountain-top. In the west the sun had broken through the black rain-clouds, and was now sinking in a glory that passes description.



CHAPTER XVII

IMPRISONED IN THE FLOODED MINE

Mr. Halford looked up from the paper that he was reading at the breakfast-table in the pleasant Philadelphia home, and exclaimed, "Here's an account of a terrible colliery disaster, wife; and I do believe it is in Warren Jones's mine, the very one you and Nellie visited a few days ago."

"Oh, husband, it can't be!"

"It certainly is, though. 'Raven Brook Colliery. Flooded last evening just as men were about to quit work. Rushing waters cut off retreat of nine men and boys, of whose fate nothing is yet known. Rest escape. Water still rising. But little hope of a rescue. Following is list of victims: Sterling, Evert, Tooley——'"

"Not Derrick Sterling, father, nor Paul Evert, nor Bill Tooley?" interrupted Miss Nellie, as she left her seat and went to look over his shoulder.

"Yes, my dear, those are the very names. Derrick, Paul, and Monk—not Bill—Tooley; and here is something more about one of them:

"'Derrick Sterling, whose name appears among those of the victims, is the only son of the late Gilbert Sterling, a mining engineer, formerly well known in this city. The young man was seen at the foot of the slope just before the final rush of waters. He might easily have escaped, but went back into the mine in the vain attempt to save his friend Paul Evert, a crippled lad. He fully realized the terrible risk he was running, for his last words were, "If we don't get out, come and look for us." This is a notable instance of modern heroism, and is an example of that greatest of all love which is willing to sacrifice life for friendship.'"

"Poor Derrick! Poor little Paul! Oh, it is too awful!" and tender-hearted Nellie Halford burst into tears.

So all the world knew that Derrick Sterling was a hero, and that, alive or dead, he was somewhere in that flooded mine. After that morning thousands of people who had never heard his name before eagerly scanned the daily papers for more news concerning him and the poor fellows whose fate he was sharing.

Derrick had not gone far in his search for Paul Evert when his lamp, which had been burning dimly for some minutes, though unnoticed in his excitement, gave an expiring flash and went out. The boy's impulse was to return to the foot of the slope for a new supply of oil. Then he remembered that he had a canful with him, the one he had almost unconsciously snatched up when he started on his present errand. Filling the lamp in the dark was slow work, and occupied several minutes of valuable time.

While thus engaged his ear caught the sound of rushing waters that seemed to come from out of the darkness behind him. Nearer and nearer it came, and it grew louder and louder, as with trembling hand he struck a match and relighted his lamp. Its first gleam fell upon a wall of black waters rolling rapidly towards him, up the gangway, breast-high, and cutting off all chance of escape.

What should he do? It was useless to run; the waters could run faster than he. It would be impossible to stem that fierce current and fight his way out against it. Must he, then, die, alone in that awful place with no sound save the roar of waters in his ears? Could it be that he should never again see his mother and little Helen and the sunlight? Was his life over, and must he be carried away by the black flood that was reaching out to seize him?

Like a flash these thoughts passed through his mind, and like another flash came a ray of hope. Close beside him was the mouth of a chute belonging to a breast that he knew followed the slant of the vein upward for a great distance.

He sprang towards it, flung his oil-can into it, and in another moment, though the chute was above his head, he had climbed the slippery wall and entered it. As he drew himself up beyond their reach the savage waters made a fierce leap after him, and swept on with an angry, snarling roar. A few minutes later they had risen above the mouth of the chute and completely filled the gangway. Derrick was entombed, and the door was sealed behind him.

In the mean time a similar escape was being effected but a short distance from him, though he knew nothing of it. Monk Tooley and four other men working near him in a distant part of the mine received no intimation of the outbreak of waters and the disaster that was about to overwhelm them. Their first warning of trouble came with the stoppage of the air-currents that supplied them with the very breath of life.

For a few minutes they waited for them to be resumed; then, flinging down their tools, and filled with a strange fear, they started through the maze of galleries towards the slope. On their way they were joined by Aleck, the blacksmith, and Boodle, his helper. Next they came upon Paul Evert, standing anxiously by his door. He had become conscious, without being able to explain how, that something terrible was about to happen, though he had no idea what form the terror was to take.

Joining the fugitives, he was hobbling along as fast as possible, and trying to keep pace with their rapid strides, when Monk Tooley stopped, picked him up, and, holding him like a baby in his strong arms, said, "We'll get on faster dis way, lad."

Half-way to the slope they met the advancing waters from which Derrick had just escaped.

The miner who was in advance gave a great cry of "It's a flood, mates, and it's cut us off. We're all dead men!"

"No we beant!" shouted Monk Tooley. "Up wid ye, men, inter de breast we just passed."

Running back a few steps to the mouth of a chute he had noticed a moment before, the miner tossed Paul up into it much in the same way that Derrick had tossed his oil-can into a similar opening. Springing up after him, Tooley lent a hand to those behind, and with an almost supernatural strength dragged one after another of them up bodily beyond the reach of the flood. Only poor Boodle was caught by it and swept off his feet; but he clutched the legs of the man ahead of him, and both were drawn up together. In another minute they too were sealed in behind an impassable wall of water.

Although they did not know it at the time, they were in a chamber adjoining that in which Derrick had sought refuge, and were divided from him only by a single wall of coal a few feet thick. It was a very small chamber, for the coal found in it proving of an inferior quality, it had quickly been abandoned. The one on the opposite side of the wall from them, in which Derrick found himself, was of great extent, being in fact several breasts or chambers thrown into one by the "robbing out" of their dividing walls of coal.

"Out wid yer lights, men!" cried Monk Tooley as soon as they had all been dragged in. "De air's bad enough now, an' de lamps 'll burn de life outen it. Besides, we'll soon have need of all de ile dat's left in 'em."

The air of that confined space was already heavy and close, with eight men to breathe it, and eight lamps to consume its oxygen. Extinguishing all the others, they sat around one lamp, pricked down low, for they could not bear the thought of absolute darkness.

Monk Tooley had assumed a sort of leadership among them, and by virtue of it he ordered every lunch-pail to be emptied of what scraps of food it contained, and all of it to be given to Paul for safe keeping. There was not much—barely enough of broken crusts and bits of meat to fill Paul's pail; but it was something, and must be doled out sparingly, for already the men gazed at it with hungry eyes.

Then they tried to talk of their situation and discuss the chances of escape. On this subject they had but little to say, however, for they all knew that long before the waters could be lowered so that any attempt to save them could be made, the foul air of that small chamber would have done its fatal work. Indeed, they knew that before one day should have passed their misery would be ended.

Even as they tried to talk, poor Boodle, saying that he was sleepy, lay down on the bare rock floor, where he was almost instantly fast asleep and breathing heavily. "'Tis like he'll never wake again," said one of the miners, gloomily.

"Let him sleep, then; 'tis the easiest way out of it," responded a comrade.

One after another they succumbed to the effects of the heavy atmosphere, and fell asleep. Finally, all excepting the crippled lad, even including Monk Tooley, whose light Paul had taken and set beside him, lay stretched out on the hard floor, sound asleep and breathing in a distressed manner.

Paul felt drowsy, but the horror of his surroundings was too great to admit of his sleeping. He wanted to think, and try and prepare his mind for the awful unknown future that overshadowed him. As he thought, great tears began to run down his thin cheeks, then came a choking sob, and he buried his face in his hands. Gradually he became calm again, and his thoughts resembled delightful dreams, so full were they of pleasant things. In another moment they would have been dreams, and the last of that little band would have been wrapped in a slumber from which neither he nor they would ever have wakened. From this condition a sharp squeak caused Paul to start and look up.

Directly in front of him, and so close that he could have touched it, was a large rat, whose eyes twinkled and glistened in the lamplight. As Paul lifted his head it uttered another squeak and sat up on its hind-legs.

"I do believe it's Socrates," said Paul; and sure enough it was.

Mechanically, and without thinking of what he was about, Paul took a bit of meat from his lunch-pail and tossed it to the rat, which immediately seized it in its mouth and scampered away. Then Paul realized that he was wasting precious food, and made a vain effort to catch the rat. The beast was too quick for him, and darted away towards a dark corner of the chamber, whither Paul followed it, hoping to discover its nest and perhaps recover the meat.

He saw the rat run into a hole in the wall about two feet above the floor; and putting his face down to it, trying to look in, he felt a delicious current of fresh air. It was not very strong, but it caused the flame of his lamp to flicker, so that he withdrew it hurriedly for fear it should be extinguished.

Suddenly he started as though he had been shot, and almost let fall the lamp in his excitement. Had he heard a human voice? Of course not! How absurd to imagine such a thing! But there it was again; and it said,

"Holloa! Is anybody in there?"

The sound came to his ear distinctly enough this time through the hole, and placing his mouth close to it, Paul shouted back,

"Holloa! Yes, we're in here, and we want to get out. Who are you?"

The boy almost screamed for joy at the answer which came to this question; for it was,

"I'm Derrick Sterling. Are you Paul Evert?"

Derrick was almost as greatly affected when the voice said,

"Yes, I'm Paul, and there are a lot more of us in here, and we are stifling. But oh, Derrick, dear Derrick! I'm so glad you're not drowned."

Then Paul went back to the others, and found it almost impossible to waken them. He finally succeeded; and when they comprehended his great news, each one had to go to the hole, draw in a deep breath of the fresh air, and call through it to Derrick, for the sake of hearing him answer. It was so good to hear a human voice besides their own; and though they knew he was a prisoner like themselves, it somehow filled them with new hope and longings for life. They had no tools with them, but all fell to work enlarging the hole with knives, the iron handles of their lunch-pails, or whatever else they could lay hands upon, while Paul stood by and held the lamp.

Although Derrick had plenty of air and space to move about in, his situation had been fully as bad as theirs, for he had been alone. Nothing is so terrible under such circumstances as solitude, with the knowledge that you are absolutely cut off from mankind, and may never hear a human voice again.

He had pricked his lamp down very low so as to save his oil, and was lying at full length on the cold floor, a prey to the most gloomy thoughts. All sorts of fantastic forms seemed to mock at him out of the darkness. He could almost hear their jeering laughter, and was rapidly giving way to terror and despair, when a ray of light flickered for a moment on the rocky roof above him.

Springing to his feet and rubbing his eyes, he looked in the direction from which it seemed to have come, and saw it again, shining through what he had taken for a solid wall of rock. Then he called out, and Paul Evert, the very one of whom he had been in search, answered him.

Half an hour later the hole was sufficiently large to allow a man to squeeze through it, and Derrick had thrown his arms around Paul, and hugged him in his wild joy and excitement.

The thing for which the miners felt most grateful, next to their escape from the little stifling chamber and their meeting with Derrick, was his can of oil. Now they knew that with care they might keep a lamp burning for many hours; and the dread of total darkness, which is greater than that of hunger, or thirst, or any form of danger, no longer oppressed them.

Aleck, the blacksmith, had a watch, and from it they learned that it was still early in the evening; though it already seemed as if they had been imprisoned for days. Some of the men began to complain bitterly of hunger and to beg for food, but Monk Tooley said they should not eat until the watch showed them that morning had arrived.

To divert their thoughts, he proposed that they should make their way along the breast to its farther end, so as to be as near as possible to the slope and a chance of rescue. Acting upon this advice, they made the attempt. It was a most difficult undertaking, for the floor was of smooth slate, sloping at a sharp angle towards the gangway. It was like trying to crawl lengthwise of a steep roof to get from one row of the timbers that supported the upper wall to another. They were several hours on the journey, but finally reached the end of the long breast in safety. There they must wait until relieved from their awful situation by death, or by a rescuing party who would be obliged to tunnel through many yards of rock and coal to reach them.

They managed to construct a rude platform of timbers, on which to rest more comfortably than on the smooth sloping rock floor, and here most of them lay down to sleep.

Derrick and Paul lay side by side, with arms thrown about each other's necks. The former was nearly asleep when his companion whispered, "Dare!"

"Yes, Polly."

"Here's something for you; and if I don't live to get out, you'll always keep it to remember me by, won't you?"

"I shouldn't need it for that, Polly; but I'll always keep it, whatever it is."

It was Paul's sketch of the underground picnic-party, and Derrick knew what it was when he took it and thrust it into the bosom of his shirt, though days passed before he had a chance to look at it.

Three days after this the same men and boys lay on their log platform, in almost the same positions, but they were haggard, emaciated, faint, and weak. Their last drop of oil had been burned, and they were in total darkness. A light would have shown that they lay like dead men.

Suddenly one of them lifts his head and listens. "Thank God! thank God!" he exclaims, in a husky voice, hardly more than a whisper, "I hear them! they're coming!"

Derrick's quick ear had detected the muffled sound of blows, and his words gave new life to the dying men around him.



CHAPTER XVIII

TO THE RESCUE!—A MESSAGE FROM THE PRISONERS

From the moment the news came that nine men and boys were imprisoned in the flooded mine, preparations for their rescue, or at least of learning their fate, were pushed with all vigor. Although it had stopped raining, the night was dark, and great bonfires were lighted about the mouth of the slope. These were placed in charge of the old breaker boss, Mr. Guffy, and his boys, who fed them with dry timbers, and kept up the brilliant blaze until daylight.

Around these fires the entire population of the village stood and discussed the situation; and by their light the workers were enabled to perform their tasks. The miners were divided into gangs, headed by the mine boss and by Tom Evert, and their work was the fetching of the steam pumps from across the valley and setting them up near the mouth of the slope. They had to be connected, by long lines of iron pipe, with the boilers under the breaker, and from each a double line of hose was carried down the slope until water was reached.

It was nearly daylight when these operations were completed, and a faint cheer went up from the weary watchers as they saw four powerful streams of water added to the torrent that the regular mine pump had kept flowing all night.

"Now, men," said the mine boss, when he saw that all was working to his satisfaction, "I want you to go home and get all the solid rest you can in the next two days, for after that I shall probably call upon you to work night and day."

"We'll be ready boss, whenever you give the word," was the prompt answer from a score of stalwart fellows. Then all turned towards their homes, knowing they could do nothing more until the pumps had prepared a way for them.

During the next day the news of the disaster spread far and wide, and from all sides visitors poured into the little village. Among these were a number of reporters from the metropolitan papers, some of whom, filled with a sense of their own importance, buzzed around like so many bumblebees. They blundered into all sorts of places where they had no business, bored everybody whom they could approach with absurd questions, and made of themselves public nuisances generally.

While some among them acted thus foolishly, there were others who behaved like gentlemen and the sensible fellows they were. Of these the most noticeable was a well-built, pleasant-faced young man, named Allan McClain. He asked few questions, but each one had evidently been well considered and was directly to the point. He was quiet and unobtrusive, never displayed a note-book or pencil, kept his eyes and ears wide open, and, as a result, sent to his paper the best accounts of the situation that were published. How he did it was a mystery to the others, few of whom had even thought of giving to their business the careful study and attention that McClain bestowed upon it.

The mine boss had been particularly annoyed by the conduct of several of these members of the press, and when they applied to him for permission to accompany the first gang of workmen down into the mine, he firmly but courteously said "No."

He explained to them the dangers attending the proposed undertaking, and that there would be no room in the mine for any but those actively engaged in the work of rescue.

Some of the reporters made such an outcry at this, and talked so loudly of their rights and of what they would do in case the mine boss persisted in his refusal, that he finally said if they could not behave better than they had he should be compelled to order them from the colliery altogether.

During this scene Allan McClain listened to all that was said without speaking a word. Shortly afterwards the mine boss, meeting him alone, said, "I am sorry, sir, to be obliged to include you in my apparent discourtesy, but you know that if I made a single exception I could not enforce my rule."

"I know it, Mr. Jones," was the pleasant answer, "and I do not expect any privileges that may not be extended to the rest. Your action will, however, make no difference to me, as I expect to leave the village to-day."

Allan McClain did take the afternoon train away from Raven Brook, after bidding his companions good-by; but none of them knew where he had gone or the reasons for his departure.

The pumping of the mine was so successful that two days later the water in it was lowered a few feet below the roof of the great chamber at the bottom of the slope. The mine boss had watched it closely, going down almost every hour to note the change of its level, and he now decided that the time had come to begin more active operations.

The day before, a sturdy young man, much begrimed with coal-dust, and wearing a rough suit of mine clothes that had evidently seen long service, had presented himself at the mouth of the slope, and asked leave to take part in the rescue, in case there was any way in which he could be made useful. He said that he came from the neighboring colliery of Black Run, where the Raven Brook men had once rendered good service during a time of disaster, and that his name was Jack Hobson. The mine boss had thanked him for his offer of assistance, and said he would gladly accept it if he found an opportunity. The young man remained near the scene of operations, making himself so generally useful, and performing with such promptness and intelligence any little task given him, that the mine boss took a decided fancy to him before the day was over.

Now that Mr. Jones wanted three reliable men to go down with him and make an exploration, he selected Tom Evert, Jack Hobson, and another young miner who had a brother among the victims of the flood.

The departure of this little party was watched by a great crowd of people, who realized that if work could not be begun at once there would be little chance of finding any of the imprisoned men alive. Among the spectators were many reporters, any one of whom would gladly have paid a round sum to be taken along, and thus gain an opportunity of describing the appearance of the drowned mine.

At the foot of the slope the exploring party found a rude but strong flat-boat that the mine boss had caused to be built and sent down for this very purpose. Sitting in it with bent bodies, for there was but little space beneath the roof of the chamber, they pushed off across the black waters and began a voyage so weird and mysterious that at first their thoughts found no expression in words.

All about them floated traces of the disaster; here the body of a drowned mule, and there a bale of hay, or a quantity of timbers that, wrenched and broken, told of the awful force of the waters. These and many like tokens of destruction came slowly within the narrow circle of light from their lamps, and vanished again behind them.

After a careful search along the opposite side of the chamber, they located gangway No. 1, in which the water was still within two inches of the roof.

"It'll be some time afore we can get in there, sir," said Tom Evert.

"Yes, Tom, three days at least, perhaps more."

"T' big breast lies in here on this side t' gangway."

"I know it, Tom; and if you'll pick out the spot that promises easiest working, we'll open a heading into it. We may find them there. If we don't we can work our way through it, above the water level, to the wall that divides it from the next one. Some of them are almost sure to be there if they're still alive."

"That's what I think, sir; and if you say so, we'll start in right here. Can you tell just how far in t' breast lies?"

"If that's all, we'll soon knock a hole through that, and then, please God, I'll find my crippled lad, an' t' brave one that went back after him. If we find 'em dead, old Tom Evert don't never want to come out alive. He couldn't."