Down the Slope

"Not a bit of it; but the company are lookin' after you mighty sharp, Cale, an' I don't want to get in trouble. There's plenty room out of doors."

"All right, the shop belongs to you; but it may be the losin' of a good customer," and Billings walked out with Skip close at his heels.

"Now give me the paper."

When the document was delivered the man glanced at it to make sure it was the one wanted, and then said in a fatherly tone:

"I reckon you've fixed things to suit yourself if the new breaker boy was in the cuttin' when the roof fell."

"They're diggin' for him now; but I'm goin' to get the worst of this job."

"How so?"

"Taylor will blow the whole thing, an' then Wright will know it was me."

"Ain't I here to protect yer?"

"Yes; but – "

"Don't worry, my son. Go into the breaker as if nothin' had happened."

"I can't 'cause I sent word I wouldn't come to-day."

"Then keep out of sight till night, and meet me on the railroad track after dark. We'll have this job mighty nigh done before morning."

Billings was walking toward the slope, and not daring to follow him any farther, Skip ran swiftly in the opposite direction, wondering where he could hide until sunset. For the first time he began to fear the consequences of his cruel deed, and the thought that the officers of the law might soon be in search of him was by no means reassuring.

He sought the shelter of the thicket farther up the hill where a view of the slope could be had, and there he waited, expecting each moment to see lifeless bodies brought from the mine.

CHAPTER XIII

BURIED ALIVE

At the moment when Skip Miller knocked away the joist which supported the timbers at the top of the tunnel, Fred had stooped to pick up his shovel, and this position saved him from being instantly killed.

One end of the shoring plank was yet held by the upright placed in the center of the cutting, and it remained at an angle, although pinning him down, while the earth covered him completely.

For a moment he was at a loss to know what had happened, and then he heard, as if from afar off, Joe calling him by name.

"Here I am under the timber," he replied.

"Are you hurt much?"

"I think not; but I shall stifle to death if the dirt isn't taken away soon."

"It ain't a sure thing that you won't stifle even then," he heard Bill say sharply. "Take hold, mate, an' let's get him from beneath while we have a chance to breathe."

Then the grating of the shovels was distinguished, and pound by pound the weight was removed until nothing save the timber held him down.

"Can you get out now?" Joe asked, and his voice sounded strangely indistinct.

"Not till the joist is pulled away."

"When that is done it's safe to say tons of the roof will follow," Bill muttered, and Joe asked:

"Does it hurt you much, lad?"

"The edges are cutting into my back terribly."

"Grin an' bear it as long as you can. Our only chance for life is to break through the wall into the old tunnel; but if that timber is taken away it's good-bye for all hands."

"Then don't bother about me. It's better one died than three."

There was no reply to this. The men were digging at the barrier of earth with feverish energy, and each instant respiration became more difficult. The slight amount of air which filtered through the bank of slate and sand was no more than sufficient for one pair of lungs.

The darkness was profound. The lamps had been extinguished by the shock, and five minutes later it was impossible to re-light them. The oxygen had become so nearly exhausted that a match would not burn.

Fred bit his lips to prevent an outcry. The huge timber was crushing him slowly but surely, and the pain was intense.

Each instant the blows of the men grew fainter. Strength and even the power of movement was rapidly succumbing to the noxious vapor.

Joe was the first to give up, and as the pick fell from his nerveless hands he said faintly:

"It's all over, lads. We might as well pull the timber from Fred, and die at the same moment."

"Don't weaken, mate," Bill said, imploringly. "Who knows but we're within a few inches of the other drift."

"Even if that's true, the chances are we'll be stifled by the gas."

"The alarm may be given in time to save us from the entrance."

"Sam can't have come back yet, an' before any one knows what has happened we shall be dead."

Joe had lost all courage and the apathy of despair was upon him. His words robbed Fred of the last hope, and as it fled consciousness deserted him.

Bill delivered a few more feeble blows with the pick, and then he in turn sank to the ground.

The hand of death was very nearly upon them, and the agonies of dissolution already passed.

Within a few feet of where the unconscious men lay, willing hands were working at the obstruction. No more than three could labor at once, but these were relieved every two minutes, in order that their energy might not be impaired by weariness, and meanwhile others shoveled the slate and earth into cars, that the drift might be kept clear.

Mr. Wright personally assisted in the labor, and it was he who began the cheering which ensued when an aperture was made in the barrier.

"At it with a will, boys," he shouted, "but be careful about removing the timber, for some of the poor fellows may be beneath it."

The foul air rushing out nearly overcame the laborers, but the eager rescuers heeded not their own peril, and the moment finally came when the unconscious ones were fully exposed to view.

"Pass out the men, and then dig beneath the boy; he must be released in that manner, otherwise we may all share their fate," and Mr. Wright shoveled the earth carefully away from Fred, while the others carried Joe and Bill into the drift.