Beth Norvell Part 19

His foot met some obstacle along the floor, and he bent down, feeling for it with his fingers in the dark; it proved to be a rude sc.r.a.p-iron rail, evidence that they carried out their ore by means of mules and a tram-car. A few yards farther this new tunnel began to ascend slightly, and he again mysteriously lost his view of the miners' lamps, and was compelled to grope his way more slowly, yet ever carefully counting his steps. The roof sank with the advance until it became so low he was compelled to stoop. The sound of picks smiting the rock was borne to him, made faint by distance, but constantly growing clearer.

There he came to another curve in the tunnel.

He crouched upon one knee, peering cautiously around the edge in an effort to discover what was taking place in front. The scattered lights on the hats of the miners rendered the whole weird scene fairly visible. There were two narrow entries branching off from the main gallery not more than thirty feet from where he lay. One ran, as nearly as he could judge, considerably to the east of south, but the second had its trend directly to the eastward. Along the first of these tunnels there was no attempt at concealment, a revealing twinkle of light showing where numerous miners were already at work. But the second was dark, and would have remained unnoticed entirely had not several men been grouped before the entrance, their flaring lamps reflected over the rock wall. Winston's eyes sparkled, his pulse leaped, as he marked the nature of their task--they were laboriously removing a heavy mask, built of wood and canvas, which had been snugly fitted over the hole, making it resemble a portion of the solid rock wall.

There were four workmen employed at this task, while the foreman, a broad-jawed, profane-spoken Irishman, his moustache a bristling red stubble, stood a little back, noisily directing operations, the yellow light flickering over him. The remainder of the fellows composing the party had largely disappeared farther down, although the sound of their busy picks was clearly audible.

"Where the h.e.l.l is Swanson?" blurted out the foreman suddenly. "He belongs in this gang. Here you, Ole, what 's become o' Nelse Swanson?"

The fellow thus directly addressed drew his hand across his mouth, straightening up slightly to answer.

"Eet iss not sumtings dot I know, Meester Burke. He seems not here."

"Not here; no, I should say not, ye cross-oied Swade. But Oi 'm dommed if he did n't come down in the cage wid' us, for Oi counted the lot o'

yez. Don't any o' you lads know whut 's become o' the drunken lout?"

There was a universal shaking of heads, causing the lights to dance dizzily, forming weird shadows in the gloom, and the irritated foreman swore aloud, his eyes wandering back down the tunnel.

"No doubt he's dhrunk yet, an' laid down to slape back beyant in the pa.s.sage," he growled savagely. "Be all the powers, but Oi 'll tache that humpin' fool a lesson this day he 'll not be apt to fergit fer a while. I will that, or me name 's not Jack Burke. Here you, Peterson, hand me over that pick-helve." He struck the tough hickory handle sharply against the wall to test its strength, his ugly red moustache bristling. "Lave the falsework sthandin' where it is till I git back,"

he ordered, with an authoritative wave of the hand; "an' you fellers go in beyant, an' help out on Number Wan till Oi call ye. Dom me sowl, but Oi'll make that Swanson think the whole dom mounting has slid down on top o' him--the lazy, dhrunken Swade."

The heavy pick-handle swinging in his hand his grim, red face glowing angrily beneath the sputtering flame of the lamp stuck in his hat, the irate Burke strode swiftly back into the gloomy pa.s.sage, muttering gruffly.

CHAPTER XV

THE PROOF OF CRIME

Winston sprang to his feet and ran back along the deserted tunnel, bending low to avoid collision with the sloping roof, striving to move rapidly, yet in silence. The intense darkness blinded him, but one hand touching the wall acted as safeguard. For a moment the bewildering surprise of this new situation left his brain in a whirl of uncertainty. He could remember no spot in which he might hope to secrete himself safely; the rock wall of that narrow pa.s.sageway afforded no possible concealment against the reflection of the foreman's glaring lamp. But he must get beyond sight and sound of those others before the inevitable meeting and the probable struggle occurred. This became the one insistent thought which sent him scurrying back into the gloom, recklessly accepting every chance of encountering obstacles in his haste. At the second curve he paused, panting heavily from the excitement of his hard run, and leaned against the face of the rock, peering anxiously back toward that fast approaching flicker of light. The angry foreman came crunching savagely along, his heavy boots resounding upon the hard floor, the hickory club in his hand occasionally striking against the wall as though he imagined himself already belaboring the recreant Swanson.

About him, causing his figure to appear gigantic, his shadow grotesque, the yellow gleam of the light shone in spectral coloring. Winston set his teeth determinedly, and noiselessly c.o.c.ked his revolver. The man was already almost upon him, a black, shapeless bulk, like some unreal shadow. Then the younger stepped suddenly forth into the open, the two meeting face to face. The startled foreman stared incredulous, bending forward as though a ghost confronted him, his teeth showing between parted lips.

"Drop that club!" commanded Winston coldly, the gleam of an uplifted steel barrel in the other's eyes. "Lively, my man; this is a hair-trigger."

"What the h.e.l.l--"

"Drop that club! We 'll discuss this case later. There--no, up with your hands; both of them. Turn around slowly; ah, I see you don 't tote a gun down here. So much the better, for now we can get along to business with fewer preliminaries."

He kicked the released pick-helve to one side out of sight in the darkness, his watchful eyes never straying from the Irishman's face.

Burke stood sputtering curses, his hands held high, his fighting face red from impotent pa.s.sion. The trembling light gave to the scene a fantastic effect, grimly humorous.

"Who--who the divil be ye?" The surprised man thrust his head yet farther forward in an effort to make the flame more clearly reveal the other's features. Winston drew the peak of his miner's cap lower.

"That will make very little difference to you, Jack Burke," he said quietly, "if I have any occasion to turn loose this a.r.s.enal. However, stand quiet, and it will afford me pleasure to give you all necessary information. Let us suppose, for instance, that I am a person to whom Biff Farnham desires to sell some stock in this mine; becoming interested, I seek to discover its real value for myself, and come down with the night s.h.i.+ft. Quite a natural proceeding on my part, is n't it? Now, under such circ.u.mstances, I presume you, as foreman, would be perfectly willing to show me exactly what is being accomplished down here?"

He paused, his lips smiling pleasantly, and Burke stared at him, with mouth wide open, his eyes mere black slits in the gloom. It was a full minute before he regained control of his voice.

"Ye think Oi 'm a dommed fool?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, hoa.r.s.ely.

"No; that is exactly what I do not think, Burke," and Winston smiled again beneath his stern gray eyes. "That is precisely why I know you will show me all I desire to see. A d.a.m.n fool might possibly be tempted to take chances with this gun, and get hurt, but you are smart enough to understand that I 've got the drop all right, and that I mean business--I mean business." These words were uttered slowly, deliberately, and the foreman involuntarily dropped his lids as though feeling them physically, the fingers of his uplifted hands clinching.

"What--what is it ye want to see?"

"That tunnel you 've got concealed by falsework."

Burke spat against the rock wall, the perspiration standing forth on his forehead. But Irish pugnacity made him stubborn.

"Who tould ye that loie? Shure, an' it's not here ye 'll be apt to foind the loikes o' that, me man."

Winston eyed him scornfully.

"You lie, Burke; I saw it with my own eyes just beyond that second turn yonder. You cannot play with me, and the sooner you master that fact the better. Now, you can take your choice--lead on as I order, and keep your men away, or eat lead. It's one or the other within the next sixty seconds. Turn around!"

No man in his senses would ever doubt the determined purpose lying behind those few low-spoken, earnest words. Whoever this man might be, whatever his purpose, he was a.s.suredly not there in sport, and Burke wheeled about as though some concealed spring controlled his action.

"Good," commented Winston, briefly. "You can lower your hands. Now, walk straight forward, speaking only when I tell you, and never forget there is a gun-barrel within two feet of your back. The slightest movement of treachery, and, G.o.d helping me, Burke, I 'll turn loose every cartridge into your body. I don 't want to do it, but I will."

They moved slowly forward along the deserted tunnel, not unlike two convicts in lock-step. Burke sullenly growling, a burly, shapeless figure under the light in his hat; Winston alert, silent, watchful for treachery, the glimmer of the lamp full on his stern face. Their shadows glided, ever changing in conformation, along the walls, their footfalls resounding hollow from the echoing pa.s.sage. There were no words wasted in either command or explanation. Without doubt, the foreman understood fairly well the purpose of this unknown invader; but he realized, also, that the man had never lightly a.s.sumed such risk of discovery, and he had lived long enough among desperate men to comprehend all that a loaded gun meant when the eye behind was hard and cool. The persuasive eloquence of "the drop" was amply sufficient to enforce obedience. Farnham be hanged! He felt slight inclination at that moment to die for the sake of Farnham. Winston, accustomed to gauging men, easily comprehended this mental att.i.tude of his prisoner, his eyes smiling in appreciation of the other's promptness, although his glance never once wavered, his guarding hand never fell. Burke was safe enough now, yet he was not to be trifled with, not to be trusted for an instant, in the playing out of so desperate a game. At the angle the two halted, while the engineer cautiously reconnoitred the dimly revealed regions in front. He could perceive but little evidence of life, excepting the faint radiance of constantly moving lights down Number One tunnel. Burke stood sullenly silent, venturing upon no movement except under command.

"Anybody down that other entry?"

The foreman shook his head, without glancing around, his jaws moving steadily on the tobacco that swelled his cheek.

"Then lead on down it."

Winston stretched forth his unused left hand as they proceeded, his fingers gliding along the wall, his observant eyes wandering slightly from off the broad back of his prisoner toward the sides and roof of the tunnel. To his experience it was at once plainly evident this preliminary cutting had been made through solid rock, not in the following of any seam, but crossways. Here alone was disclosed evidence in plenty of deliberate purpose, of skilfully planned depredation. He halted Burke, with one hand gripping his shoulder.

"Are you people following an ore-lead back yonder?" he asked sharply.

The Irishman squirmed, glancing back at his questioner. He saw nothing in that face to yield any encouragement to deceit.

"Sure," he returned gruffly, "we're follyin' it all down that Number Wan."

"What 's the nature of the ore body?"

"A bit low grade, wid a thrifle of copper, an' the vein is n't overly tick."

"How far have you had to cut across here before striking color?"

"'Bout thirty fate o' rock work."

"Hike on, you thief," commanded the engineer, his jaw setting threateningly.

It proved a decidedly crooked pa.s.sage, the top uneven in height, clearly indicating numerous faults in the vein, although none of these were sufficiently serious to necessitate the solution of any difficult mining problem. In spite of the turns the general direction could be ascertained easily. The walls were apparently of some soft stone, somewhat disintegrated by the introduction of air, and the engineer quickly comprehended that pick and lever alone had been required to dislodge the interlying vein of ore. At the extreme end of this tunnel the pile of broken rock lying scattered about clearly proclaimed recent labor, although no discarded mining tools were visible. Winston examined the exposed ore-vein, now clearly revealed by Burke's flickering lamp, and dropped a few detached specimens into his pocket.

Then he sat down on an outcropping stone, the revolver still gleaming within his fingers, and ordered the sullen foreman to a similar seat opposite. The yellow rays of the light sparkled brilliantly from off the outcropping ma.s.s, and flung its radiance across the faces of the two men. For a moment the silence was so intense they could hear water drip somewhere afar off.

"Burke," asked the engineer suddenly, "how long have you fellows been in here?"

The uneasy Irishman s.h.i.+fted his quid, apparently considering whether to speak the truth or take the chances of a lie. Something within Winston's face must have decided him against the suggested falsehood.