The Iron Boys in the Mines Part 25

"I fear he is, my boy. How did the accident occur?"

"We hear he was carried up on the skip and dropped on the trestle."

"I mean what happened here?"

"The boy fell through the old trap there," explained the mine captain, approaching at that moment.

"Fell through the trap?" demanded Mr. Penton in surprise.

"Yes, the old trap that was closed several years ago. The men are fixing it so a similar accident won't occur again."

"Tell me exactly what happened."

"I didn't see it. The motor-man there can tell you. He is just coming in now."

The motor-man explained that young Rush was hammering at the dump-car catch when the trap gave way beneath him and he went down. That was all that anyone below ground knew about the accident. In fact, that was all there was to tell so far as any one in the mine knew.

Mr. Penton looked grave. It was an accident that reflected on him, for the corporation looked to him to make the mine safe. He was greatly disturbed, but more on Steve's account than on his own.

The superintendent climbed down into the skip shaft and made an examination on his own account.

"Where are the supports that held up the trap?" he demanded upon his return to the platform.

"If they ain't there we must have thrown them into the shaft," explained the timber-man.

"You should have known better than that. Was it a break?"

"It was a break, all right. The thing just gave out, and that's all there was to it. But you can bet this one won't give way, not in a thousand years. It'll be here long after the old mine has caved in."

Mr. Penton did not go on with his inspection of the mine that day. He was too full of anxiety for Steve Rush. Bob had begged to be let off for the afternoon, and Mr. Penton had willingly granted his request. The lad hurried to the hospital, after having changed his clothes, and at his earnest request he was allowed to sit beside Steve. The boy could scarcely keep the tears back as he gazed down into the pale face of his companion. Bob was sure in his own mind that Steve was dying and Jarvis'

eyes were large and sorrowful as he watched the surgeon working over the unconscious patient.

Mr. Penton came, remained a short time, then went away; he, too, convinced that Rush could not recover. Night came on, but still Bob sat beside the hospital cot, one hand slipped under the sheet clasping a hand of his companion.

"You had better go home," said the surgeon, seeming for the first time to be aware of Jarvis' presence.

Bob did not answer.

"I said, you had better go home, Jarvis."

"I want to stay," answered the boy simply.

"You can do him no good."

"When will he get better--or worse?"

"I do not look for any change before three o'clock in the morning or thereabouts, so you see it will be useless for you to remain."

"All right; I am not sleepy," and Bob turned his face toward the cot, again fixing his gaze on the face of the unconscious Steve.

The surgeon shrugged his shoulders and proceeded with his duties. The hours dragged along, but Bob never changed his position nor even moved, so fearful was he of doing something that might r.e.t.a.r.d his friend's recovery. Three o'clock came and still there was no change. Another half hour elapsed. The sky was graying in the east. Steve uttered a low moan.

The surgeon was at his side in an instant. He placed an ear to the boy's heart, then took his pulse, watch in hand. Bob's eyes were fixed on the surgeon now. The latter shut his watch with a snap, then noting the pleading question in the watcher's eyes, he nodded.

"He is better. The change is coming, and unless something unlooked for occurs he should return to consciousness soon."

Bob drew a short, quick breath that was half a sob, settling down into his former watchful position.

Now the surgeon remained by the side of the cot. Occasionally he would administer a few drops of medicine. When the patient choked a little and swallowed, the surgeon would nod approvingly.

All at once Steve Rush's eyelids fluttered open. His gaze was fixed for a brief instant on the face of his companion. Jarvis held his breath.

"Bob," murmured the lad, then closed his eyes wearily.

CHAPTER XVI

WHAT WAS FOUND IN THE SHAFT

"The crisis has pa.s.sed," announced the surgeon in a relieved tone.

Two great tear drops rolled down Bob Jarvis' cheeks. He brushed them away and rose from the chair in which he had been sitting all night.

"I'm going home. I must get ready to go to work. If he should become worse won't you please let me know?"

"Yes," answered the surgeon, giving the boy a quick, keen glance. "He'll be all right now. No need to worry."

Bob went to his boarding place happier and more light of heart than he ever had been before.

Steve's recovery was very slow, however. All that day and the next he was too weak to talk, having lost considerable blood. Then again the shock had been greater than many men could have sustained and lived to tell about.

At the end of a week the invalid was allowed to sit up, but ten days had elapsed before it was considered prudent to permit him to dress and walk about. Bob spent all his evenings with his companion, but they did not discuss the accident. Each lad tacitly avoided the subject.

The first day that Rush was allowed to go out of doors he walked over to Mr. Penton's office, a hundred yards away, and asked permission to see the superintendent. Mr. Penton welcomed the young man warmly.

"I am glad to see you out, Rush. You had a pretty close call, didn't you?"

"I guess so, though I do not remember much about what happened beyond a certain point."

"If you feel strong enough I wish you would tell me exactly what occurred leading up to the accident," said the superintendent.

"Oh, yes, sir; I am strong enough. I could go to work and I think I shall to-morrow."

"We'll see about that."

Steve related briefly what he knew of the accident, but his story shed no new light on the affair. He could not even guess how it had happened, beyond what Mr. Penton himself told the boy.