CHAPTER VI
IN THE POWDER-WRECKED DRIFT
For a moment those outside the end of the drift stood in awed silence.The candles on the hats of the miners had been extinguished by theexplosion.
Nothing will cause an underground miner to lose his head quicker thanbeing plunged into sudden darkness. Several of them set up a terrifiedyell.
"Hold your tongues!" bellowed the contractor. "You haven't been hurt.Don't you know enough to light your candles? That's the best way I knowof to get rid of the darkness."
Spooner lighted his own candle, holding it in his hand above his head ashe looked about. He stepped forward toward the place where his men hadbeen drifting in the ore.
"Just as I expected," he growled. "More time wasted."
The timbers that had supported the roof of the drift had crasheddownward, carrying with them a few tons of rock and ore, blocking thepassage completely.
"Are--are the men in there killed?" questioned a trammer in unsteadytones.
"How should I know?" growled the contractor. "I do know that we arelosing a lot of valuable time. If that fool powder-man hadn't been insuch a hurry we should have been spared all this delay. Get busy withyour shovels and picks here."
There were ugly scowls on the faces of the miners as they sprang forwardto obey the order of their employer. They knew full well that it was notthe fault of either the powder-man or Steve Rush, but of Spoonerhimself. It was he who had insisted upon going into the drift to examinethe missed hole, and had it not been for the bravery of Steve thecontractor would now be lying dead behind the mass of rock.
The men spoke no word, but their hearts were full of indignation. Theycared not for the loss of time, nor for any other loss that theiremployer might have suffered. They did care for the unfortunate man andboy buried in the drift.
In the meantime word had been conveyed to the mine captain that anaccident had occurred in number seventeen. With a force of men he wasalready hurrying to the scene as fast as an electric tram could carryhim. The word he had received was to the effect that several men hadbeen killed. The company's surgeon had been sent for and allpreparations were made to care for the wounded.
During all this time brave little Steve Rush lay inside the drift, halfburied under rock and red ore. He had toppled backwards when theexplosion came, half turned and had fallen face downward, his armscrossed under his forehead so that his nose and mouth were free.Otherwise he undoubtedly would have smothered before help could reachhim.
Steve stirred uneasily, coughed and tried to raise himself. He could notdo so. He found himself held down by an oppressive weight. Some littletime elapsed before his return to consciousness, and even then he wasstill dazed. At first he tried hard to recall what had happened, and atlast it all came back to him.
"There was another in here with me--the powder-man. I wonder if he isdead?" muttered the lad.
After some difficulty the lad got his hands free of his head and beganfeeling about him. He made a discovery that thrilled him through andthrough. The body of the powder-man lay across his own, holding the ladfirmly to the ground.
Yet under these trying conditions the lad did not lose his steady nervefor an instant. As his mind became clearer he began weighing thepossibilities of getting out of his predicament. He reasoned that he andhis companion must have been imprisoned in some way by the explosion.All the time he was carefully twisting his body this way and that in aneffort to free himself without hurting the man who was lying across him.
At last Rush succeeded in crawling from under his human burden and theweight of ore and rock that hemmed them both in.
Steve's first act was to stretch forth a hand to his companion. The handwandered from the face of the prostrate man down over the heart, whereit paused.
A faint, irregular beating of that organ rewarded Steve's effort.
"He's alive," cried the lad, scrambling to his feet. "He's----"
A severe fit of coughing cut short the young miner's words. A densecloud of suffocating powder smoke hung over the drift like a pall.
Steve dropped to the ground, pressing his face close to the earth, wherehe found the air better. After a few long breaths he began searching fora candle. He knew there had been one on the powder-man's cap when theexplosion came. A search, however, failed to locate the candle.
"I wish I knew what to do for him," muttered the lad. "He surely willdie here unless they get us out pretty soon, and I wouldn't give muchfor my own life if I had to stay in this awful air very long."
Steve uttered a long shout, which ended in a fit of coughing.
"No more shouting for me," he muttered, wiping the tears from hiseyes--tears not caused by fear or grief.
He next tried shaking the powder-man, which drew a groan from the man,whereupon the lad quickly desisted.
After a moment's reflection, the boy stuffed a handkerchief in hismouth, permitting it to cover his nose, to keep out the full strength ofthe powder smoke. This done, he got to his feet again, and began feelinghis way about the chamber in which the accident had occurred.
"Ah, this is it!"
His hands paused when they came in contact with a heap of crushedtimber, and his feet struck a mass of ore piled against the foot-wall ofthe drift.
For a moment Rush stood motionless, reflecting on the situation. Hecould hear no sounds on the outside.
"Either they are all killed out there, or else we are buried so deepthat I cannot hear them. I do not know which it is, but I think it mustbe the latter," the boy decided. "We are imprisoned in the drift; thatis certain."
The lad, after some searching about, found a shovel, and with this hebegan throwing the dirt back from the place where the opening had been.The effort was too much for him. Strong as he was, the shock of theexplosion had weakened him and the powder smoke choked him until he wentoff into another fit of coughing. To relieve himself he lay down again.
The fresh air along the floor of the drift strengthened him somewhat,and once more he turned his attention to the powder-man. He lifted theminer's head gently, placing it in his own lap, after which he chafedthe man's hands and forehead. The miner drew a long, deep sigh andstirred uneasily. Perhaps something of the lad's tender sympathy touchedhis inner consciousness.
"Poor fellow!" murmured Steve, forcing back the lump that rose in histhroat. "This is not a life for the weak or the timid. It is a man'swork and I'm going to be a man."
Steve continued to stroke the face and hands of the powder-man until,becoming dizzy from inhaling the powder smoke, he lay down again untilsomewhat revived.
"I must try to attract the attention out there," decided the ladfinally.
Choosing a piece of rock large enough to answer his purpose, he beganthumping on the broken timbers. The attempt was not very successful, forhe seemed to make no noise at all. Then something else occurred to him.
Illustration: Seizing the Shovel, Steve Began Beating the Timbers.
"The shovel!" he cried. "Why did I not think of it before?"
Grabbing up the tool, he began beating the timbers with it in wide,swinging strokes.
Bang, bang, bang, went the shovel, the lad now and then pausing tolisten. Once he thought he caught an answering blow from the oppositeside, but he did not hear it again. Then he set up a piece of rock, thelargest he could find, and began hammering on this.
Steve's ears were ringing by this time, and during the intervals when heceased hammering on the timbers or the rock he was overcome by a roaringsound as if a great flood had been suddenly let loose. He did notunderstand what this meant. The silence of the underground prison hadbecome a chaos of noises, the lad's blows became weaker and at longerintervals apart.
"I wonder what--what is the matter with me. I'm getting sleepy," hemuttered.
A few more blows and the shovel dropped from his nerveless fingers.Steve staggered, then collapsed unconscious across the body of thepowder-man.