by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER V
IN DEEP FOR WADDY
And all the time I had Wadley Fiske slated as a dead one! Course, he wasone of Mr. Robert's clubby friends. But that don't always count. He maybe choosey enough picking live wires for his office staff, Mr. Robert,as you might guess by my bein' his private sec; but when it came togettin' a job lot of friends wished on him early in his career, I mustsay he couldn't have been very finicky.
Not that Waddy's a reg'lar washout, or carries a perfect vacuum betweenthe ears, or practices any of the seven deadly sins. He's a cheerful,good-natured party, even if he is built like a 2x4 and about as broad inthe shoulders as a cough drop is thick. I understand he qualifies in thescheme of things by playin' a fair game of billiards, is always willingto sit in at bridge, and can make himself useful at any function wherethe ladies are present. Besides, he always wears the right kind ofclothes, can say bright little things at a dinner party, and cangenerally be located by calling up any one of his three clubs.
Chiefly, though, Waddy is a ladies' man. With him being in and out ofthe Corrugated General Offices so much I couldn't help gettin' more orless of a line on him that way, for he's always consultin' Mr. Robertabout sendin' flowers to this one, or maneuverin' to get introduced tothe other, or gushin' away about some sweet young thing that he's metthe night before.
"How does he get away with all that Romeo stuff," I asks Mr. Robertonce, "without being tagged permanent? Is it just his good luck?"
"Waddy calls it his hard luck," says Mr. Robert. "It seems as if theyjust use him to practice on. He will find a new queen of his heart,appear to be getting on swimmingly up to a certain point--and then shewill marry someone else. Invariably. I've known of at least a half dozenof his affairs to turn out like that."
"Kind of a matrimonial runner-up, eh?" says I.
Oh, yes, I expect we got off a lot of comic lines about Waddy. Anyway wepassed 'em as such. But of course there come days when we have otherthings to do here at the Corrugated besides shoot the gay and frivolouschatter back and forth. Now and then. Such as here last Wednesday whenMr. Robert had two committee meetin's on for the afternoon and was goin'over with me some tabulated stuff I'd doped out for the annual report.Right in the midst of that Wadley Fiske blows in and proceeds to hammerMr. Robert on the back.
"I say, Bob," says he, "you remember my telling you about the lovelyMarcelle Jedain? I'm sure I told you."
"If you didn't it must have been an oversight," says Mr. Robert."Suppose we admit that you did."
"Well, what do you think?" goes on Waddy, "She is here!"
"Eh?" says Mr. Robert, glancin' around nervous. "Why the deuce do youbring her here?"
"No, no, my dear chap!" protests Waddy. "In this country, I mean."
"Oh!" and Mr. Robert sighs relieved. "Well, give the young lady my bestregards and--er--I wish you luck. Thanks for dropping in to tell me."
"Not at all," says Waddy, drapin' himself easy on a chair. "But that'sjust the beginning."
"Sorry, Waddy," says Mr. Robert, "but I fear I am too busy just nowto----"
"Bah!" snorts Waddy. "You can attend to business any time--tomorrow,next week, next month. But the lovely Marcelle may be sailing withinforty-eight hours."
"Well, what do you expect me to do?" demands Mr. Robert. "Want me toscuttle the steamer?"
"I want you to help me find Joe Bruzinski," says Waddy.
Mr. Robert throws up both hands and groans. "Here, Torchy," says, he,"take him away. Listen to his ravings, and if you can discover anysense----"
"But I tell you," insists Waddy, "that I must find Bruzinski at once."
"Very well," says Mr. Robert, pushin' him towards the door. "Torchy willhelp you find him. Understand, Torchy? Bruzinski. Stay with him until hedoes."
"Yes, sir," says I, grinnin' as I locks an arm through one of Waddy'sand tows him into the outer office. "Bruzinski or bust."
And by degrees I got the tale. First off, this lovely Marcelle personwas somebody he'd met while he was helpin' wind up the great war. No,not on the Potomac sector. Waddy actually got across. You might notthink it to look at him, but he did. Second lieutenant, too. Infantry,at that. But they handed out eommissions to odder specimens than him atPlattsburg, you know. And while Waddy got over kind of late he had theluck to be in a replacement unit that made the whoop-la advance intoBelgium after the Hun line had cracked.
Seems it was up in some dinky Belgian town where the Fritzies had beenrunnin' things for four years that Waddy meets this fair lady with theimpulsive manners. His regiment had wandered in only a few hours afterthe Germans left and to say that the survivin' natives was glad to see'em is drawin' it mild. This Miss Jedain was the gladdest of the glad,and when Waddy shows up at her front door with a billet ticket callin'for the best front room she just naturally falls on his neck. I take ithe got kissed about four times in quick concussion. Also that the flavorlasted.
"To be received in that manner by a high born, charming young woman,"says Waddy. "It--it was delightful. Perhaps you can imagine."
"No," says I. "I ain't got that kind of a mind. But go on. What's therest?"
Well, him and the lovely Marcelle had three days of it. Not going to afond clinch every time he came down to breakfast or drifted in forluncheon. She simmered down a bit, I under stand, after her first wildsplurge. But she was very folksy all through his stay, insisted thatWaddy was her heroic deliverer, and all that sort of thing.
"Of course," says Waddy, "I tried to tell her that I'd had very littleto do personally with smashing the Hindenburg line. But she wouldn'tlisten to a word. Besides, my French was rather lame. So we--we--Well,we became very dear to each other. She was charming, utterly. And sofull of gratitude to all America. She could not do enough for our boys.All day she was going among them, distributing little dainties she hadcooked, giving them little keepsakes, smiling at them, singing to them.And every night she had half a dozen officers in to dinner. But tome--ah, I can't tell you how sweet she was."
"Don't try," says I. "I think I get a glimmer. All this lasted threedays, eh! Then you moved on."
Waddy sighs deep. "I didn't know until then how dreadful war could be,"says he. "I promised to come back to her just as soon as the awful messwas over. She declared that she would come to America if I didn't. Shegave me one of her rings. 'It shall be as a token,' she told me, 'that Iam yours.'"
"Sort of a trunk check, eh?" says I.
"Ah, that ring!" says Waddy. "You see, it was too large for my littlefinger too small for any of the others. And I was afraid of losing it ifI kept it in my pocket. I was always losing things--shaving mirrors,socks, wrist watch. Going about like that one does. At least, I did. Allover France I scattered my belongings. That's what you get by having hada valet for so long.
"So I called up Joe Bruzinski, my top sergeant. Best top in the army,Joe; systematic, methodical. I depended upon him for nearly everything;couldn't have gotten along without him, in fact. Not an educated fellow,you know. Rather crude. An Americanized Pole, I believe. But efficient,careful about little things. I gave him the ring to keep for me. Lessthan a week after that I was laid up with a beastly siege of influenzawhich came near finishing me. I was shipped back to a base hospital andit was more than a month before I was on my feet again. Meanwhile I'dgotten out of touch with my division, applied for a transfer to anotherbranch, got stuck with an S. O. S. job, and landed home at the tail-endof everything after all the shouting was over."
"I see," says I. "Bruzinski lost in the shuffle."
"Precisely," says Waddy. "Mustered out months before I was. When I didget loose they wouldn't let me go back to Belgium. And then----"
"I remember," says I. "You side-tracked the lovely Marcelle for thatlittle blonde from. Richmond, didn't you?"
"A mere passing fancy," says Waddy, flushin' up. "Nothing serious. Shewas really engaged all the time to Bent Hawley. They're to be marriednext month, I hear. But Marcelle! She has come. Just think, she has beenin this country for weeks,
came over with the King and Queen of Belgiumand stayed on. Looking for me. I suppose. And I knew nothing at allabout it until yesterday. She's in Washington. Jimmy Carson saw herdriving down Pennsylvania avenue. He was captain of my company, youknow. Rattle-brained chap, Jimmy. Hadn't kept track of Bruzinski at all.Knew he came back, but no more. So you see? In order to get that ring Imust find Joe."
"I don't quite get you," says I. "Why not find the lovely Marcelle firstand explain about the ring afterwards?"
Waddy shakes his head. "I was in uniform when she knew me," says he."I--I looked rather well in it, I'm told. Anyway, different. But incivies, even a frock coat, I've an idea she wouldn't recognize me as anoble hero. Eh?"
"Might be something in that," I admits.
"But if I had the ring that she gave me--her token--well, you see?" goeson Waddy. "I must have it. So I must find Bruzinski."
"Yes, that's your play," I agrees. "Where did he hail from?"
"Why, from somewhere in Pennsylvania," says Waddy; "some weird littleplace that I never could remember the name of."
"Huh!" says I. "Quite a sizable state, you know. You couldn't ramblethrough it in an afternoon pagin' Joe Bruzinski."
"I suppose one couldn't," says Waddy. "But there must be some way oflocating him. Couldn't I telegraph to the War Department?"
"You could," says I, "and about a year from next Yom Kippur you mightget a notice that your wire had been received and placed on file. Why,they're still revisin' casualty lists from the summer of 1918. If you'rein any hurry about gettin' in touch with Mr. Bruzinski----"
"Hurry!" gasps Waddy. "Why, I must find him by tonight."
"That's goin' to call for speed," says I. "I don't see how youcould--Say, now! I just thought of something. We might tickle Uncle Samin the W. R. I. B."
"Beg pardon!" says Waddy, gawpin'.
"War Risk Insurance Bureau," I explains. "That is, if Miss Callahan'sstill there. Used to be one of our stenogs until she went into war work.Last I knew she was still at it, had charge of one of the filing cases.They handle soldier's insurance there, you know, and if Bruzinski's kepthis up----"
"By George!" breaks in Waddy. "Of course. Do you know, I never thoughtof that."
"No, you wouldn't," says I "May not work, at that. But we can try. She'sa reg'lar person, Miss Callahan."
Anyway, she knew right where to put her fingers on Joe Bruzinski's cardand shoots us back his mailin' address by lunch time. It's Coffee Creek,Pa.
"What an absurd place to live in!" says Waddy. "And how on earth can weever find it."
"Eh?" says I. "We?"
"But I couldn't possibly get there by myself," says Waddy. "I've neverbeen west of Philadelphia. Oh, yes, I've traveled a lot abroad, butthat's different. One hires a courier. Really, I should be lost out ofNew York. Besides, you know Mr. Robert said you were to--oh, there he isnow. I say, Bob, isn't Torchy to stay with me until I find Bruzinski?"
"Absolutely," says Mr. Robert, throwin' a grin over his shoulder at meas he slips by.
"Maybe he thinks that's a life sentence," says I. "Chuck me thatPathfinder from the case behind you, will you? Now let's see. Here weare, page 937--Coffee Creek, Pa. Inhabitants 1,500. Flag station on theLackawanna below Wilkes-Barre. That's in the Susquehanna valley. Must bea coal town. Chicago limited wouldn't stop there. But we can probablycatch a jitney or something from Wilkes-Barre. Just got time to make the1:15, too. Come on. Lunch on train."
I expect Waddy ain't been jumped around so rapid before in his wholecareer. I allows him only time enough to lay in a fresh supply ofcigarettes on the way to the ferry and before he's caught his breath weare sittin' in the dinin' car zoomin' through the north end of NewJersey. I tried to get him interested in the scenery as we poundedthrough the Poconos and galloped past the Water Gap, but it couldn't bedone. When he gets real set on anything it seems Waddy has a singletrack mind.
"I trust he still has that ring," he remarks.
"That'll ride until we've found your ex-top sergeant," says I. "What washis line before he went in the army--plumber, truck driver, or what?"
Waddy hadn't the least idea. Not having been mixed up in industryhimself, he hadn't been curious. Now that I mentioned it he supposedJoe had done something for a living. Yes, he was almost sure. He hadnoticed that Joe's hands were rather rough and calloused.
"What would that indicate?" asks Waddy.
"Most anything," says I, "from the high cost of gloves to a strike oflady manicures. Don't strain your intellect over it, though. If he'sstill in Coffee Creek there shouldn't be much trouble findin' him."
Which was where I took a lot for granted. When we piled off the expressat Wilkes-Barre I charters a flivver taxi, and after a half hour's drivewith a speed maniac who must have thought he was pilotin' a DeHavilandthrough the clouds we're landed in the middle of this forsaken, onehorse dump, consistin' of a double row of punk tenement blocks and asprinklin' of near-beer joints that was givin' their last gasp. I triedout three prominent citizens before I found one who savvied English.
"Sure!" says he. "Joe Bruzinski? He must be the mine boss by Judson'syet. First right hand turn you take and keep on the hill up."
"Until what?" says I.
"Why, Judson's operation--the mine," says he. "Can't miss. Road ends atJudson's."
Uh-huh. It did. High time, too. A road like that never should be allowedto start anywhere. But the flivver negotiated it and by luck we foundthe mine superintendent in the office--a grizzled, chunky littleWelshman with a pair of shrewd eyes. Yes, he says Bruzinski is aroundsomewhere. He thinks he's down on C level plotting out some newcontracts for the night shift.
"What luck!" says Waddy. "I say, will you call him right up?"
"That I will, sir," says the superintendent, "if you'll tell me how."
"Why," says Waddy, "couldn't you--er--telephone to him, or send amessenger?"
It seems that can't be done. "You might try shouting down, the shaftthough," says the Welshman, with a twinkle in his eyes.
Waddy would have gone hoarse doin' it, too, if I hadn't given him thenudge. "Wake up," says I. "You're being kidded."
"But see here, my man----" Waddy begins.
"Mr. Llanders is the name," says the superintendent a bit crisp.
"Ah, yes. Thanks," says Waddy. "It is quite important, Mr. Llanders,that I find Bruzinski at once."
"Mayhap he'll be up by midnight for a bite to eat," says Llanders.
"Then we'll just have to go down where he is," announces Waddy.
Llanders stares at him curious. "You'd have an interesting time doingthat, young man," says he; "very interesting."
"But I say," starts in Waddy again, which was where I shut him off.
"Back up, Waddy," says I, "before you bug the case entirely. Let me askMr. Llanders where I can call up your good friend Judson."
"That I couldn't rightly say, sir," says Llanders. "It might be oneplace, and it might be another. Maybe they'd know better at the officeof his estate in Scranton, but as he's been dead these eight years----"
"Check!" says I. "It would have been a swell bluff if it had workedthough, wouldn't it?"
Llanders indulges in a grim smile. "But it didn't," says he.
"That's the sad part," says I, "for Mr. Fiske here is in a great stew tosee this Bruzinski party right away. There's a lady in the case, as youmight know; one they met while they were soldierin' abroad. So ifthere's any way you could fix it for them to get together----"
"Going down's the only way," says Llanders, "and that's strictly againstorders."
"Except on a pass, eh?" says I. "Lucky we brought that along. Waddy,slip it to Mr. Llanders. No, don't look stupid. Feel in your right handvest pocket. That's it, one of those yellow-backed ones with a double Xin the corners. Ah, here! Don't you know how to present a governmentpass?" And I has to take it away from him and tuck it careless into thesuperintendent's coat pocket.
"Of course," says Llanders, "if you young gentlemen are on officialbusiness, it ma
kes a difference."
"Then let's hurry along," says Waddy, startin' impatient.
"Dressed like that?" says Llanders, starin' at Waddy's Fifth Avenuecostume. "I take it you've not been underground before, sir?"
"Only in the subway," says Waddy.
"You'll find a coal mine quite unlike the subway," says Llanders. "Ithink we can fix you up for it, though."
They did. And when Waddy had swapped his frock coat for overalls andjumper, and added a pair of rubber boots and a greasy cap with anacetylene lamp stuck in the front of it he sure wouldn't have beenrecognized even by his favorite waiter at the club. I expect I lookedabout as tough, too. And I'll admit that all this preparation seemedkind of foolish there in the office. Ten minutes later I knew it wasn't.Not a bit.
"Do we go down in a car or something?" asks Waddy.
"Not if you go with me," says Llanders. "We'll walk down Slope 8. Beforewe start, however, it will be best for me to tell you that this was adrowned mine."
"Listens excitin'," says I. "Meanin' what?"
"Four years ago the creek came in on us," says Llanders, "flooded us towithin ten feet of the shaft mouth. We lost only a dozen men, but it wastwo years before we had the lower levels clear. We manage to keep itdown now with the pumps, Bruzinski is most likely at the further end ofthe lowest level."
"Is he?" says Waddy. "I must see him, you know."
Whether he took in all this about the creek's playful little habits ornot I don't know. Anyway, he didn't hang back, and while I've started onevenin' walks that sounded a lot pleasanter I wasn't going to duck then.If Waddy could stand it I guessed I could.
So down we goes into a black hole that yawns in the middle of a muddyfield. I hadn't gone far, either, before I discovers that being your ownstreet light wasn't such an easy trick. I expect a miner has to wear hislamp on his head so's to have his hands free to swing a pick. But I'llbe hanged if it's comfortable or easy. I unhooked mine and carried it inmy hand, ready to throw the light where I needed it most.
And there was spots where I sure needed it bad, for this Slope 8proposition was no garden pathway, I'll say. First off, it was mucky andslippery under foot, and in some places it dips down sharp, almost assteep as a church roof. Then again there was parts where they'd skimpedon the ceilin', and you had to do a crouch or else bump your bean onunpadded rocks. On and down, down and on we went, slippin' and slidin',bracin' ourselves against the wet walls, duckin' where it was low andrestin' our necks where they'd been more generous with the excavatin'.
There was one 'specially sharp pitch of a hundred feet or so and rightin the worst of it we had to dodge a young waterfall that comesfilterin' down through the rocks. It was doin' some roarin' andsplashin', too. I was afraid Llanders might not have noticed it.
"How about it!" says I. "This ain't another visit from the creek, isit?"
"Only part of it," says he careless. "The pumps are going, you know."
"I hope they're workin' well," says I.
As for Waddy, not a yip out of him. He sticks close behind Llanders andplugs along just as if he was used to scramblin' through a muddy holethree hundred feet or so below the grass roots. That's what it is to be100 per cent in love. All he could think of was gettin' that ring backand renewin' cordial relations with the lovely Marcelle. But I wasnoticin' enough for two. I knew that we'd made so many twists and turnsthat we must be lost for keeps. I saw the saggy, rotten timbers thatkept the State of Pennsylvania from cavin' in on us. And now and then Iwondered how long it would be before they dug us out.
"Where's all the coal?" I asks Llanders, just by way of makin' talk.
"Why, here," says he, touchin' the side-wall.
Sure enough, there it was, the real black diamond stuff such as youshovel into the furnace--when you're lucky. I scaled off a piece andtested it with the lamp. And gradually I begun to revise my ideas of acoal mine. I'd always thought of it as a big cave sort of a place, witha lot of miners grouped around the sides pickin' away sociable. But hereis nothing but a maze of little tunnels, criss-crossin' every which way,with nobody in sight except now and then, off in a dead-end, we'd get aglimpse of two or three kind of ghosty figures movin' about solemn. It'sall so still, too. Except in places where we could hear the waterroarin' there wasn't a sound. Only in one spot, off in what Llanderscalls a chamber, we finds two men workin' a compressed air jack-hammer,drillin' holes.
"They'll be shooting a blast soon," says Llanders. "Want to wait?"
"No thanks," says I prompt. "Mr. Fiske is in a rush."
Maybe I missed something interestin', but with all that rock over myhead I wasn't crazy to watch somebody monkey with dynamite. Thejack-hammer crew gave us a line on where we might find Bruzinski, and Iexpect for a while there I led the way. After another ten-minute stroll,durin' which we dodged a string of coal cars being shunted down a grade,we comes across three miners chattin' quiet in a corner. One of 'emturns out to be the mine-boss.
"Hey, Joe!" says Llanders. "Somebody wants to see you."
At which Waddy pushes to the front. "Oh, I say, Bruzinski! Remember me,don't you?" he asks.
Joe looks him over casual and shakes his head.
"I'm Lieutenant Fiske, you know," says Waddy. "That is, I was."
"Well, I'll be damned!" says Joe earnest. "The Loot! What's up?"
"That ring I gave you in Belgium," goes on Waddy. "I--I hope you stillhave it?"
"Ye-e-es," says Joe draggy. "Fact is, I was goin' to use it tomorrow.I'm gettin' engaged. Nice girl, too. I was meanin' to----"
"But you can't, Joe," breaks in Waddy. "Not with that ring. Miss Jedaingave me that. Here, I'll give you another. How will this do?" And Waddytakes a low set spark off his finger.
"All right. Fine!" says Joe, and proceeds to unhook the other ring fromhis leather watch, guard. "But what's all the hurry about?"
"Because she's here," says Waddy. "In Washington, I mean. The lovelyMarcelle. Came over looking for me, Joe, just as she promised. Perhapsyou didn't know she did promise, though?"
"Sure," says Joe. "That's what she told all of us."
"Eh?" gasps Waddy.
"Some hugger, that one," says Joe. "Swell lady, too. A bear-cat formakin' love, I'll tell the world. Me, and the Cap., and the First Loot,and you, all the same day. She was goin' to marry us all. And the Cap.,with a wife and two kids back in Binghamton, N. Y., he got almostnervous over it."
"I--I can't believe it," says Waddy gaspy. "Did--did she give you a--atoken, as she did to me?"
"No," says Joe. "None of us fell quite so hard for her as you did. Iguess we kinda suspected what was wrong with her."
"Wrong?" echoes Waddy.
"Why not?" asks Joe. "Four years of the Huns, and then we came blowin'in to lift the lid and let 'em come up out of the cellars. Justnaturally went simple in the head, she did. Lots like her, only theytook it out in different ways. Her line was marryin' us, singly and insquads; overlookin' complete that she had one perfectly good hubby whowas an aide or something to King Albert, as well as three niceyoungsters. We heard about that later, after she'd come to a little."
For a minute or so Waddy stands there starin' at Joe with his mouth openand his shoulders sagged. Then he slumps on a log and lets his chindrop.
"Goin' to hunt her up and give back the ring?" asks Joe. "That theidea?"
"Not--not precisely," says Waddy. "I--I shall send it by mail, I think."
And all the way out he walked like he was in a daze. He generally takesit hard for a day or so, I understand. So we had that undergroundexcursion all for nothing. That is, unless you count my being able togive Mr. Robert the swift comeback next mornin' when he greets me witha chuckle.
"Well, Torchy," says he, "how did you leave Bruzinski?"
"Just where I found him," says I, "about three hundred feetunderground."
