Copper Coleson's Ghost
CHAPTER XXIII ESCAPE
Sitting there in the murky dimness of the old mine, Dick Somersstruggled manfully against the anxiety which was making his heart throbpainfully. Ned Blake was pal and leader of the other boys, but to Dickhe was all this and much more. Not until this moment of terriblesuspense did Dick fully realize the depth of his feeling for his friendand the shock of it brought a dry sob to his throat.
“Don’t take it so hard, Dick,” consoled Charlie Rogers in a voice thatwas husky in spite of his effort to control it. “Shucks! Ned’s allright. He’s a regular fish in the water! He can swim a couple of mileswithout half trying, and when it comes to doing _under-water_ stunts—whyhe can beat a muskrat!”
“The only thing I was really worrying about was that the car might jumpthe track,” declared Tommy Beals in a cheerful tone, which was, however,belied by the solemn expression of his plump countenance. “I know by theway the cable acted that the old dump-wagon stayed on the rails and it’sdollars to doughnuts she made the end of the tunnel right side up!”
“Sure she did!” Rogers exclaimed confidently, “and the instant Ned sawlight through the hole above him, why he started up. He thinks underwater—take it from me!”
Thus the talk went on, hope contending with fear, and as the minutesticked away, Dave Wilbur kept an anxious eye upon his watch. “Thefifteen minutes are up,” he announced after what had seemed an endlesswait. “Ned said it would take him that long, at least.”
Yet another full minute passed. Then there came a scraping sound on thefarther side of the door, which quickly swung open, disclosing thedripping form of Ned Blake. The shout of relief and joy that burst fromfour throats was promptly checked by Ned’s warning gesture.
“Keep quiet!” he cried. “Tumble up here! Quick! Bring my clothes!”
The boys obeyed without question, and as they passed through the door,Ned closed it, replaced the heavy beam which had held it shut, andhurried his companions to a hiding-place behind a pile of barrels.
“There’s no chance to get out yet,” he chattered, as he struggled intohis garments. “I had a narrow squeak of it. Latrobe and Slade werecoming through the gate in Dave’s flivver, just as I turned the cornerof the house. There was a truck right behind them. They’ll be here in aminute. Lie low and don’t breathe!”
Tommy Beals had brought one of the lanterns, which was quicklyextinguished, and the boys had barely time to settle themselves in theirplaces of concealment when the stone slab in the foundation wall swungback and the swarthy face of Latrobe appeared in the opening. A momenthe paused to listen intently, then crept into the cellar, followed bySlugger Slade and the red-faced man whom Ned had recognized as Miller.
“They took both lanterns,” growled the leader, as he shot the rays of aflashlight into the niche where lay the canvas and the coil of rope.
“Yeah, they had both lights burning when I was watching ’em monkeyingwith the dump-car,” replied Slade. “They were too busy to notice me, soI just swung the door on ’em and propped that beam against it,” andSlade pointed to the heavy timber which still held the door shut.
“Well, maybe that was as good as you could have done,” was the grudgingreply. “The game’s up, but we’ll load what we’ve got and make ourget-away before anybody else comes snoopin’ around.”
“What’ll we do with these smart kids that butted in on our game andruined it?” snarled Miller.
“Leave ’em shut in the mine till somebody who wants ’em starts lookingfor ’em,” was the cool answer. “They know too much about us and ourbusiness, and the longer they stay shut up, why the more time we’ll haveto cover our tracks.”
“Their folks will probably start hunting for ’em today, but it may be aweek or more before anybody suspects where they are and finds how to get’em out,” ventured Slade, uneasily. “They’d pretty near starve by thattime.”
“Let ’em starve,” snapped Latrobe. “It’ll learn ’em to mind their ownbusiness and not gum up somebody else’s game. All right, Miller,” hecontinued, “let’s get going.”
“Are you going to put out the bridge?” asked Slade.
“Sure,” answered Latrobe. “There’s no good leaving any more tracks thanwe can help. Let ’em guess how we did the trick. Come on, Miller; youand Slade get it out. We’ve no time to lose.”
From its place in the niche, the roll of dingy canvas was dragged to theopening in the foundation wall and pushed outside. Latrobe and Millerheld one end of the cloth on the ground while Slade stepped onto it andwalked slowly forward kicking the roll ahead of him. In a very shorttime he had laid a canvas walk, four feet wide, extending from the wallof the house to the fringe of bushes, among which the truck could beseen backing into position.
“That’s what Fatty and I heard flapping in the wind that night!” gaspedCharlie Rogers, as he watched the canvas rise and fall in the breeze.
“Yes, and that big misshapen thing we saw must have been a man walkingalong that canvas with a case of bottles on his shoulder!” added Tommy.“No wonder we never could find any foot tracks!”
“Nor wheel tracks either!” wheezed Dave. “They worked the same kind ofstunt for the truck at the entrance to the old road!”
“Sh! Keep still! They’re coming in again!” warned Ned.
The two men and Slade again crept through the opening into the cellarand approached the door leading down to the mine. “You say there’s fiveof ’em inside,” remarked Latrobe. “Are any of ’em scrappers?”
“Huh!” grunted Slade. “That fellow Blake is pretty strong and plentyhandy with his football stuff, and there’s a fat guy that might knockyou cold, if he jumped on you like he did me. The rest ain’theavy-weights, but I guess maybe they’d fight if you got ’em cornered.”
“Well, you go out and tell Casey to come down as soon as he gets thetruck in place,” decided Latrobe. “There’s no good taking chances of oneof ’em getting past us.”
Slade left the cellar and soon returned, accompanied by a burlyindividual who carried a short cudgel in his hand. “What’s the matter?”demanded the newcomer. “Can’t the three of you handle five boys? Openthat door,” he continued savagely. “Let me at ’em!”
“Easy there, Casey,” warned Latrobe. “I’m running this show. We don’twant any broken heads unless it’s necessary, but if they try to rushus—well, don’t let any of ’em get past, that’s all.”
As Slade removed the timber and opened the door a cautious crack,Latrobe, with Miller and Casey at his elbow, peered through it into themine below. For a moment the growl of low-voiced talk came to the earsof the boys where they crouched in their hiding-places; then Latrobeflung the door wide and stepped through it onto the stairs. “Come on outof there now!” he shouted. “Let’s have a look at you!” His shout wentechoing down the tunnel, but no other sound broke the stillness.
“They’re here all right,” declared Miller. “Look at that lanternburning. They probably took the other light and went down into thetunnel.”
“The dump-car is gone,” announced Slade. “Look how they hammered thisdoor trying to break it down!”
Latrobe directed his flashlight upon the battered door and examined itcarefully; then turning, he played the rays along the pile of boxes andbarrels that littered the cellar. Caution was one of Latrobe’s habits,and to the frightened watchers it seemed that their very breathing mustbe audible to his keen ears; but after a long moment of heart-breakingsuspense, he again turned and went clumping down the stairs followed bythe other three.
As the last form disappeared through the low doorway, Ned Blake creptsilently from his place behind the barrels. Dick Somers was at his elbowand together they stole softly forward. A glance through the door showedLatrobe, Miller, and Slade grouped at the foot of the stairs watchingCasey, who club in hand, strode down into the black mouth of the tunnel.
“That’s far enough, Casey,” commanded Latrobe. “Don’t let anybody
getpast you while we’re lugging out the stuff.”
“Swing the door easy. I’ll handle the timber,” whispered Ned. “Careful.Don’t make a sound!”
Inch by inch the door moved on its noiseless hinges, and when at last itcame to a stop, Ned dropped the heavy beam into place without a sound.
“Whew!” gasped Dick, who, now that the crisis was passed, had turnedsuddenly weak and faint. “Let’s get out of here, Ned! I’m scared plumbto death!”
Dick was not the only victim of this nervous reaction, amounting almostto panic, that came with the sudden breaking of the strain to which theboys had been subjected; and it was a pale-faced group that wasrevealed, when Tommy Beals had, with trembling fingers, succeeded inrelighting his lantern. Following its gleam, the boys made their way tothe opening in the wall and emerged into the blinding sunlight of thequiet morning.