by Kirk Munroe
CHAPTER VII
CORNWALL TO THE RESCUE
"One and all!" The rallying-cry of the most clannish county inEngland. The one in which, from Land's End to Plymouth Sound, everyfamily claims some degree of cousinship with every other, until, athome and abroad, "Cousin Richard" is the name proudly borne by allCornishmen.
"One and all!" As the startling cry rang through the black undergrounddepths it was heard and answered, caught up and repeated, until itpenetrated the remotest corners of the far-reaching level. At itssound the men of Cornwall, working in stope or drift, breast orcross-cut, dropped their tools and sprang to obey its summons. By twosand threes they ran, shouting the magic words that Cornish tongueshave carried around the world. They met in eager groups, eachdemanding to know who had first given the alarm and its cause. As nonecould answer, and the shouts still came from far away, they swept on,in ever-increasing numbers and with growing anxiety, for the call ofCornwall is never given save in an emergency.
In the meantime the fight between two and five rages with unabatedfury; the two, with their backs to a wall, putting up the splendiddefence of trained boxers against the fierce but untaught rush of merebrutes. Science, however, labored under the disadvantage of fightingin a gloom that was almost darkness, for Mark Trefethen's lamp hadbeen extinguished at the outset, and the only one still burning was ona car standing at a distance from them.
Of a sudden the timber boss heard a groan at his side, and foundhimself fighting alone. His comrade had sunk limply to the ground, andan exultant yell from the others proclaimed their knowledge that theyhad no longer to fear his telling blows. As they were about to rush inand complete their victory, the battle-cry of Cornwall, accompanied bythe flash of many lights, came rolling down the gallery.
Help was close at hand. If Mark Trefethen could hold out for anotherminute he would be surrounded by friends. With an answering shout of"One and all!" he sprang to meet his assailants, and, realizing theirdanger, they fled before him. At the same instant the lamp on theircar disappeared, and in the utter darkness that followed Trefethencould only grope his way back to Peveril's side.
A moment later the flaring lights of the Cornish miners disclosed theold man, with face battered and bleeding, standing grimly undauntedbeside the motionless form of the newest comer to the mine. The latterlay unconscious, with an ugly wound on the side of his head, fromwhich blood was flowing freely. It had been made by a fragment ofcopper rock, evidently taken from the loaded car close at hand, andflung from that direction. Several other similar pieces were picked upnear where the two men had defended themselves, and, now thatTrefethen had time for reflection, he recalled having heard thesecrash against the wall behind him.
Who had flung them was a mystery, as was the cause of the attack onPeveril. Even the identity of his assailants seemed likely to remainunrevealed, for these had slipped away in the darkness, and though therescuing party searched the level like a swarm of angry hornets, theycould not discover a man bearing on his person any signs of the recentfray.
In the gloom shrouding the scene of conflict, Mark Trefethen had notbeen able to recognize those with whom he fought, but only knew themto be foreigners and car-pushers. It afterwards transpired that anumber of these had, on that evening, made their way to a shaft a miledistant, and so gained the surface. One of them was reported to havehad his head tied up as the result of an accident, but no one hadrecognized him.
While certain of the Cornishmen searched the mine, Trefethen andothers bore the still unconscious form of Richard Peveril to the plat,and sounded the alarm signal of five bells. Nothing so startles amining community as to have this signal come from underground. It maymean death and disaster. It surely means that there are injured men tobe brought up to the surface, and the time elapsing before theirarrival is always filled with deepest anxiety.
It was so in the present case, and when the cage containing the twobattered miners, one of whom had also every appearance of being dead,emerged from the shaft, a throng of spectators was waiting to greetit.
These learned with a great sigh of relief that there had been noaccident, but merely a fight, in which the men just brought up weresupposed to be the only ones injured. Their revulsion of feeling ledmany of the spectators to treat the whole affair as a joke, especiallyas the only person seriously hurt was a stranger.
"It's always new-comers as stirs up shindies," growled a miner who,having reached the surface a few minutes earlier, formed one of theexpectant group. "They ought not to be let underground, I say."
"How about Trefethen?" asked a voice. "He's no new-comer."
"Oh, Mark's a quarrelsome old cuss, who's always meddling where he hasno call."
"You lie, Mike Connell, and you know it. My father never fightswithout good cause," cried Tom Trefethen, who had arrived just in timeto resent the slurring remark.
"I'll teach you, you young whelp!" shouted the miner, springingfuriously forward; but Tom leaped aside, leaving the other to beconfronted by several burly Cornishmen, in whose ears was stillringing the cry of "One and all!"
"Lad's right, Maister Connell," said one of these. "If 'ee doan'tbelieve it, come along and get proof."
But the Irishman, muttering something about not caring to fight allCornwall, turned abruptly and walked away.
Tom Trefethen, not yet knowing that Peveril had been hurt, alsohurried away to find his father, who, having left his young friend inthe hands of the mine surgeon, had gone to change his clothing. At thesame time poor Peveril lay in a small room of the shaft-house, havingthe gash in his head sewn up. Several spectators regarded theoperation curiously, and among them was a gentleman, addressed by thedoctor as Mr. Owen, whom none of the others remembered to have seenbefore, but who seemed to take a great interest in the stillunconscious sufferer.
"Do you consider it a serious case, doctor?" he asked.
"No. Not at all serious. These miners are a tough lot, and not easilydone for, as you'll find out before you have seen as much of them as Ihave. This one will probably be out and at work again in a day or two.I'm always having such little jobs on my hands, the results ofaccident, mostly, though this, I believe, is a case of fighting,something very uncommon in our mine, I can assure you. Splendidphysique, hasn't he? Savage-looking face, though. Hate to trust myselfalone with him. I understand old Mark Trefethen had a hard tusslebefore he brought him to terms."
"What was the trouble?"
"I don't know, exactly. Insubordination, I suppose; but old Markdon't put up with any nonsense."
"Do you know this fellow's name, or anything about him?"
"Um--yes. I have learned something, but not much. His name isPeril--Richard Peril. Odd name, isn't it? He's a new-comer, and, likeyourself, has just entered the company's employ. Rather a contrast inyour positions, though. Illustrates the difference between one broughtup and educated as a gentleman, and one destined from the first forthe other thing, eh? It is all poppycock to say that education canmake a gentleman; don't you think so? In the present case, forinstance, I doubt if even Oxford could make a gentleman of thisfellow. His whole expression is a protest against such a supposition.But now he's coming to all right, and I'm glad of it, for I have anengagement at the club, and don't want to spend much more time withhim."
Poor Peveril, whose begrimed and blood-streaked face was notcalculated to prepossess one in his favor, began just then to have arealizing sense that he was still alive, and the doctor, bending overhim, said:
"There now, my man, you are doing nicely, and by taking care ofyourself you will be about again in a day or two. You had a closecall, though, and it's a warning to behave yourself in the future; forI can assure you that one given to fighting or disobedience of ordersis not allowed to linger in these parts. I must leave you now, butwill call again this evening to see how you are getting along. Whatis your address?"
"He lives along of us, sir," answered Tom Trefethen, who had justentered the room; "and if you think it's safe to move him, we'll takehim right
home."
"Certainly you can move him; in fact, he could walk if there was noother way; but it will be as well to take him in a carriage. Let mesee, your name is Trefethen, is it not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well; put your boarder to bed as soon as you get him home, keephim quiet, give him only cooling drinks, and I'll call round after awhile. Now I must hurry along."
The stranger, who walked away with the self-important young doctor,was none other than Peveril's Oxford classmate--"Dig" Owen--who,having obtained a position in the Eastern office of the White PineMining Company, had been advised to visit the mine and learn somethingof its practical working before assuming his new duties. He had justarrived when the rumor of an accident caused him to hurry to theshaft-mouth. There he was thunderstruck at recognizing in one of thetwo men brought up from the depths his recent college-mate and rival.In the excitement of the moment he had very nearly betrayed the factof their acquaintance, but managed to restrain himself, and wasafterwards careful to keep out of Peveril's sight, foreseeing a greatadvantage to himself by so doing.
That same evening he sat in the comfortable writing-room of theclub-house--at which poor Peveril had gazed with envious eyes--andcomposed a long epistle to Rose Bonnifay, in which he mentioned thathe had just run across their mutual friend, Dick Peveril, working as aday-laborer in a copper-mine.
"This" [he continued] "is doubtless the mine in which he claimed to be _interested_, and under the circumstances one can hardly blame the poor fellow for putting it in that way. At the same time, I consider it only fair that _you_ should know the real facts in the case.
"His misfortunes seem also to have affected his disposition, for on the very day of my arrival he was engaged in a most disgraceful fight with some of his low associates, by whom he was severely and justly punished. Of course I could not afford to recognize him, and so took pains to have him kept in ignorance of my presence. Is it not sad that a fellow of such promise should in so short a time have fallen so low?
"Within a few days I shall return to the East, where my own prospects are of the brightest," etc.
"There," said Mr. Owen to himself, as he sealed and addressed thisletter. "If that don't effectually squelch Mr. Richard Peveril'saspirations in a certain direction, then I'm no judge of humannature."
