Part 57 (1/2)

It was a hot day at Burnham Breaker. The sun of midsummer beat fiercely upon the long and sloping roofs and against the coal-black sides of the giant building.

Down in the engine-room, where there was no air stirring, and the vapor of steam hung heavily in the atmosphere, the heat was almost insupportable.

The engineer, clothed lightly as he was, fairly dripped with perspiration. The fireman, with face and neck like a lobster, went out, at intervals, and plunged his hands and his head too into the stream of cool water sent out from the mine by the laboring pumps.

Up in the screen-room, the boys were sweltering above their chutes, choking with the thick dust, wondering if the afternoon would never be at an end.

Bachelor Billy, pus.h.i.+ng the cars out from the head, said to himself that he was glad Ralph was no longer picking slate. It was better that he should work in the mines. It was cool there in summer and warm in winter, and it was altogether more comfortable for the boy than it could be in the breaker; neither was it any more dangerous, in his opinion, than it was among the wheels and rollers of the screen-room.

He had labored in the mines himself, until the rheumatism came and put a stop to his under-ground toil. He mourned greatly the necessity that compelled him to give up this kind of work. It is hard for a miner to leave his pillars and his chambers, his drill and powder-can and fuse, and to seek other occupation on the surface of the earth. The very darkness and danger that surround him at his task hold him to it with an unaccountable fascination.

But Bachelor Billy had a good place here at the breaker. It was not hard work that he was doing. Robert Burnham had given him the position ten years and more ago.

Even on this hot mid-summer day, the heat was less where he was than in any other part of the building. A cool current came up the shaft and kept the air stirring about the head, and the loaded mine-cars rose to the platform, dripping cold water from their sides, and that was very refres.h.i.+ng to the eye as well as to the touch.

It was well along in the afternoon that Billy, looking out to the north-west, saw a dark cloud rising slowly above the horizon, and said to Andy Gilgallon, his a.s.sistant, that he hoped it would not go away without leaving some rain behind it.

Looking at it again, a few minutes later, he told Andy that he felt sure there would be water enough to lay the dust, at any rate.

The cloud increased rapidly in size, rolling up the sky in dark volumes, and emitting flashes of forked lightning in quick succession.

By and by the face of the sun was covered, and the deep rumbling of the thunder was almost continuous.

There was a dead calm. Not even at the head of the shaft could a particle of moving air be felt.

”Faith! I don't like the looks o' it, Billy,” said Andy Gilgallon, as a sharp flash cut the cloud surface from zenith to horizon, and a burst of thunder followed that made the breaker tremble.

”No more do I,” replied Bachelor Billy; ”but we'll no' git scart afoor we're hurt. It's no' likely the buildin' 'll be was.h.i.+t awa'.”

”Thrue for ye! but this bit o' a steeple ud be a foine risting-place for the lightnin's fut, an' a moighty hot fut it has, too--bad 'cess to it!”

The man had been interrupted by another vivid flash and a sharp crack of thunder.

The mountains to the north and west were now entirely hidden, and the near hills were disappearing rapidly behind the on-coming storm of rain. Already the first drops were rattling sharply on the breaker's roof, and warning puffs of wind were beating gently against the side of the shaft-tower.

”I'm glad Ralph's no' workin' i' the screen-room,” said Bachelor Billy, as he put up his hand to s.h.i.+eld his eyes from the blinding glare. ”It'd be a fearfu' thing to ha' the breaker hit.”

The fury of the storm was on them at last. It was as though the heavens were shattered.

Billy looked out upon the dreadful onslaught of the elements with awe and wonder on his face. His companion crouched against the timbers of the shaft in terror.

Then--lightning struck the breaker.

People who sat in their houses a mile away started up in sudden fright at the fierce flash and terrible report.

A man who was running toward the engine-room for shelter was blinded and stunned by the glare and crash, and fell to his knees.

When he rose again and could use his eyes, he saw men and boys crowding from the building out into the pouring rain. But the breaker was on fire. Already the shaft-tower was wrapped in smoke and lighted with flame. Some one in authority stood in the door of the engine-room giving orders.

The carriage was descending the shaft. When it came up it was loaded with men. It went down again, almost with the rapidity of lightning itself.

The engineer was crowding his servant of iron and steel to the utmost.