Part 38 (1/2)

The week succeeding brought Alex a suggestion.

XVII

WILSON AGAIN DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF

It was decidedly warm the following Monday noon at Bonepile, and Wilson Jennings, his coat off, but wearing the fancy Mexican sombrero that the Bar-O cowmen had given him, sat in the open window to catch the breeze that blew through from the rear. From the window Wilson could not see the wagon-trail toward the hills to the west. Thus was it that the low thud of hoofs first told him of someone's hurried approach.

Starting to his feet, he stepped to the end of the platform. At sight of a horseman coming toward him at full speed, and leading a second horse, saddled, but riderless, Wilson gazed in surprise. Wonder increased when as the rider drew nearer he recognized Muskoka Jones, the big Bar-O cowman.

”What is it, Muskoka?” he shouted as the ponies approached.

The cow-puncher pulled up all-standing within a foot of the platform.

”There's been an explosion at the Pine Lode, kid, and ten men are bottled up somewhere in the lower level. Two men got in through a small hole--the mouth of the mine is blocked--and one of them is tapping on the iron pump-pipe. Bartlett, the mine boss, thinks it may be telegraph ticking--that maybe Young knows something about that. Will you come up and listen?

”You see, if they knew what was what inside, they'd know what they could do. They are afraid to blast the big rock that's blocking the mouth for fear of bringing loosened stuff down on the men who have been caught.”

Wilson was running for the station door. ”I'll explain to the despatcher,” he shouted over his shoulder.

”I, I, X,” responded the despatcher.

”There has been an explosion at the Pine Lode mine,” sent Wilson rapidly, ”and a man has been sent to take me there to try and read some tapping from the men inside. Can you give 144 and the Mail clearance from Q and let me go up?”

”Some tapping? What--Oh, I understand. OK! Go ahead,” ticked the despatcher. ”Get back as soon as possible.”

”I will.”

”All right, Muskoke,” cried Wilson, hastening forth, struggling into his coat as he ran.

”Get round thar,” shouted the cowboy, swinging the spare pony to the platform. Wilson went into the saddle with a neat bound.

”Say, you've seen a hoss before, kid,” observed Muskoka with surprise as he threw over the reins.

”Sure I have. Used to spend my summer vacations on a farm. Can ride a bit standing up,” said Wilson, with pride.

They swung their animals about together, and were off on the jump. As the two ponies stretched out to their full stride the cowboy eyed Wilson's easy seat with approval. ”Well, kid,” he observed after a moment's silence, ”next time I come across a dude I'll git him to do his tricks before I brand him. I don't see but what you sit about as good as I do.”

Wilson's pleased smile gave place to gravity as he returned to the subject of the explosion. ”When did it happen?” he asked.

”Early this morning. Just after the men went in. They're not sure, but think it was powder stored at the foot of the shaft down to the lower level. The main lead of the Pine Lode, you know, runs straight into the mountain, not down; and the shaft to the lower level is a ways in. We heard the noise at the Bar-O.

”There's nothing much to see, or do, though,” the cowman added as they raced along neck and neck. ”A big rock just over the entrance came down, and when they got the dirt away they found it had bottled the thing up like a cork. It's that they are afraid to blast until they know how the men are fixed inside. Hoover and Young got in through a small hole at the top, Hoover about half an hour before Young. He started tapping on the pipe too, then stopped. They don't know what happened to him.”

Twenty minutes' hard riding brought them to the foothills. Still at the gallop the ponies were urged up a winding rocky trail, and finally a tall black chimney and a group of rough buildings came into view.

”There it is,” said the cowboy, indicating a ledge just above.

As they went forward, still at full speed, Wilson gazed toward the mine entrance with some astonishment. Mine disasters he had always thought of as scenes of great excitement--people running to and fro, wringing their hands, excited crowds held back by ropes, and men calling and shouting.