CHAPTER XI
TOM'S SECOND WINDOW
Mrs. Appleby never did quite understand how her barrel of oil had beenrecovered for her. All she knew for certain was that her good friend,Mr. Connor, had somehow procured it from Yetmore, and that Yetmore was,as Mr. Connor said, "agreeable."
As for myself, when Tom that morning, taking me aside, related with manychuckles how he had occupied himself during the night, I must own thatmy only feeling was one of satisfaction at the thought that Yetmore hadbeen made to restore the widow's property, and that the fear of ridiculewould probably keep him silent on the subject. Sharing with most boysthe love of fair play and the hatred of oppression, Tom's cleverness andpromptness of action seemed to me altogether commendable.
Nevertheless, I foresaw one consequence of the transaction which, Ithought, was pretty sure to follow, namely, that it would arouse inYetmore an angry resolve to "get even" with Tom by hook or by crook.That he would resort to active reprisals if the opportunity presenteditself I felt certain, and so I warned our friend. But Tom, careless asusual, refused to take any precautions, believing that Yetmore would notventure as long as he--Tom--had, as he expressed it, two such damagingshots in his magazine as the story of the lead boulder and the story ofthe oil barrel; on both of which subjects he had, with rare discretion,determined to keep silence unless circumstances should warrant theirdisclosure.
It was not till I had reached home again and had jubilantly retailed thestory to my father, that I began to understand how there might be yetanother aspect to the matter. Instead of receiving it with a heartylaugh and a "Good for Tom," as I had anticipated, he shook his head andsaid:
"I'm sorry to hear it. Tom made a mistake that time. That Yetmore shouldbe made to give up the barrel of oil is proper enough; but what righthas Tom to appropriate to himself the duties of judge, jury andexecutive officer? It is just such cases as this that earn for theAmerican people the reputation of a nation without respect for law. No.Tom meant well, I know, but in my opinion he made a mistake all thesame."
"I never thought of it in that light," said I; "so it is just as well,probably, that Tom didn't let me into the secret beforehand, because I'mafraid I should have been only too ready to help if he had asked me."
"Yes, it is just as well you were not given the choice, I expect,"replied my father, smiling. "I'm glad Tom had the sense to take thewhole responsibility on his own shoulders. Does he expect that Yetmorewill be content to let the matter rest where it is?"
"He seems to think so; though he is such a heedless fellow that itwouldn't bother him much if he thought otherwise."
"Well, in my opinion he will do well to keep his eyes open. As I toldyou before, I think Yetmore's natural caution would prompt him to keepwithin the law, but it is not impossible now, Tom having set him theexample--for one such transgression of the law is apt to breedanother--that he will think himself justified in resorting to lawlessmeasures in his turn; especially as he will have that fellow, Long John,jogging his elbow and whispering evil counsels in his ear all thetime."
How correct my father was in his presumption; how Long John did devise ascheme of retaliation; and how Joe and I inadvertently got our fingersinto the pie, I shall have to relate in due course.
But though my father disapproved of Tom's action, that fact did notlessen his desire to help his friend when I had related to him how Tomhad indeed spent all his savings on Mrs. Murphy and her family.
"What a good-hearted, harum-scarum fellow he is!" exclaimed my father."He knows--in fact, no one knows better--that there is a possiblefortune waiting for him somewhere up here on Lincoln; he saves up allwinter so that he may be free to go and hunt for it in the spring; yetat the first note of distress, away he runs and tumbles all his savingsinto Mrs. Murphy's lap, who, when all is said and done, has no realclaim upon him, thus taking the risk of being stranded in town whileLong John goes off and cuts him out. What are we going to do about it,boys? What can you suggest?"
"It would certainly be a shame," said Joe, "if Tom, by his act ofcharity, should put himself out of the running in the search for thatvein of galena. Yet he will surely do so if he can't raise that money.And even if he should raise it, he might be late in getting it, in whichcase Long John would get the start of him."
"That's the case in a nutshell," my father assented; "and, as I saidbefore: What are we going to do about it?"
"Why----" Joe began; and then he suddenly jumped up and coming acrossthe room he whispered something in my ear. I replied with a nod;whereupon Joe returned to his chair, and addressing my father once more,said:
"I'll tell you what we'll do, Mr. Crawford. Phil and I made fortydollars last fall cutting timbers--it was Tom who got us our order,too--and we have it still. We'll put that in--eh, Phil?--if it will beany use."
"Yes," said I. "Gladly."
"Good!" exclaimed my father. "Then that settles it. Now, _I'll_ tell youwhat we'll do. I'll add sixty dollars to it--that is all I can affordjust now--and you two shall ride back to Sulphide this afternoon, giveTom the money, and tell him he shall have fifty more in a couple ofmonths if he needs it. And tell him at the same time that he needn't gomortgaging his little house. We don't want security from Tom Connor: weknow him too well. I'd rather have his word than some men's bond. Youshall ride up to see him this afternoon, and you needn't hurry backto-day; for that rain of last night has made the ground too wet tocontinue plowing; and, if I'm not mistaken, we're in for another stormto-night, in which case the soil won't be in condition again for two orthree days."
I need hardly say that Joe and I were delighted to undertake thismission, and about four o'clock we reached Mrs. Appleby's, where we putup our ponies in her stable. Then, as Tom would not be quitting work foranother hour, instead of going direct to his house, we climbed up to thePelican, intending to catch him there and walk home with him.
Presently arriving at the great white dump of bleached porphyry to whichthe citizens of Sulphide were accustomed to point with pride as anindication of the immense amount of work it had taken to make thePelican the important mine it was, we scrambled up to the engine-house,where for some minutes we stood watching the busy engine as it whirledto the surface the buckets of waste. Then, stepping over to the mouth ofthe shaft, we paused again to watch the top-men as they emptied the bigbuckets into the car and trundled the car itself to the edge of thedump, upset it, and trundled it back again for more.
As we stood there, a miner came up, and stepping out of the cage, noddedto us in passing.
"Want anybody, boys?" he asked.
"We're waiting for Tom Connor," I replied. "He's down below, isn't he?"
"Yes, he's down in the fifth. I'll take you down there if you like. I'mgoing back in a minute."
"What do you think, Joe?" I asked.
"Yes, let's go," my companion replied. "I've never been inside a mine,and I should like to see one."
"All right," said the miner. "Come over here to the dressing-room andI'll give you a lamp and a couple of slickers. It's a bit wet downthere."
Joe and I were soon provided with water-proof coats, and in company withour new friend we stepped into the cage, when the miner, shutting thedoor behind us, called out to the engineer, "Fifth level, McPherson,"and instantly the floor of the cage seemed to drop from under us. Aftera fall of several miles, as it appeared to us, the cage stopped, when,peering through the wire lattice-work, we saw before us a dark passage,upon one side of which hung a white board with a big "5" painted uponit.
"Here you are," said the miner, stepping out of the cage and handing usa lighted lamp. "Just walk straight along this drift about three hundredfeet--it's all plain sailing--and you'll find Tom Connor at work there.I'm going on down to the seventh myself."
With that he stepped back into the cage, rang the bell, and vanished,leaving us standing there eyeing each other a little dubiously atfinding ourselves left to our own guidance, four hundred feet below thesurface of the earth.
"I hadn't reckon
ed on that," said I. "I thought he was coming with us."
"So did I," replied Joe. "But it doesn't really matter. All we have todo is to walk along this passage; so let's go ahead."
That our obliging friend had been right when he stated that it was "abit wet" down here was evident, for the drops of water from the roof ofthe drift kept pattering upon our slickers, and presently, when we hadadvanced something over half the distance, one of them fell plump uponthe flame of our lamp and put it out!
We stopped short, not knowing what pitfalls there might be ahead of us,and each felt in all his pockets for a match. We had none! Neveranticipating any such contingency as this, we had ventured into thisblack hole without a match in our possession.
I admit that we were scared--the darkness was so very dark and thesilence so very silent--but fortunately it was only for a moment.Standing stock still, for, indeed, we dared not move, we shouted forTom, when, to our infinite relief, we heard his familiar voice call out:
"Hallo, there! That you, Patsy? I'm coming. Does the boss want me?"
The next moment a light appeared moving towards us, and as soon as wecould safely do so we advanced to meet it.
"How are you, Tom?" we both cried, simultaneously, assuming an off-handmanner, as though we had not been scared a bit.
Tom stopped, not recognizing us for a moment, and then exclaimed:
"Hallo, boys! What are you doing down here? Who brought you down?"
We told him how we came to be there, and how our lamp had gone out; atwhich Tom shook his head.
"Well, it was certainly a smart trick to send you down into this wethole and not even see that you had a match in your pocket. What wouldyou have done if I'd happened to have left the drift?"
The very idea gave me cold chills all down my back.
"We should have been badly scared, Tom, and that's a fact," I replied;"but I hope we should have kept our heads. I believe we should have satdown where we were and shouted till somebody came."
"Well, that would have been the best thing you could do, though youmight have had to shout a pretty long time, for there is nobody workingin this level just now but me, and, as a matter of fact, I should haveleft it myself in another five minutes. But it's all right as ithappens; so now you can come along with me. I'm going out the other waythrough Yetmore's ground."
"Yetmore's ground?" exclaimed Joe, inquiringly.
"Yes, Yetmore is working the old stopes of the Pelican on a lease--it isone of his many ventures. In the early days of the camp mining wasconducted much more carelessly than it is now; freight and smeltercharges were a good bit higher, too, so that a considerable amount ofore of too low grade to ship then was left standing in the stopes.Yetmore is taking it out on shares. His ground lies this way. Come on."
So saying, Tom led the way to the end of the drift, where, going downupon his hands and knees, he crawled through a man-hole, coming out intoa little shaft which he called a "winze." Ascending this by a shortladder, we found ourselves in the old, abandoned workings, and stillfollowing our guide, we presently walked out into the daylight--greatlyto our surprise.
"Why, where have we got to, Tom?" cried Joe, as we stared about us, notrecognizing our surroundings.
Tom laughed. "This is called Stony Gulch," he replied. "The mine usedto be worked through this tunnel where we just came out, but the tunnelisn't used now except temporarily by Yetmore's men. He only runs a dayshift and at night he closes the place with that big door and locks itup. The Pelican buildings are just over the hill here, and we may aswell go up at once: it will be quitting-time by the time we get there."
We climbed over the hill, therefore, and having restored our slickers,went on with Tom down to his little cottage, which was only about aquarter of a mile from the mine.
It was not until we were inside his house that we explained to Tom theobject of our visit, at the same time handing over to him my father'scheck for one hundred dollars. The good fellow was quite touched by thisvery simple token of good-will on our part; for, though he was everready to help others, it seemed never to have occurred to him thatothers might like sometimes to help him.
This little bit of business being settled, we all pitched in to assistin getting supper ready, and presently we were seated round Tom's tabletesting the result of our cookery. As we sat there, Joe, pointing to awindow-sash and some planed and fitted lumber which stood leaningagainst the wall, asked:
"What are you going to do with that, Tom? Put in a second window?"
"Yes," replied our host. "And I was intending to do it this evening. Youcan help me now you're here. The stuff is all ready; all we have to dois to cut the hole in the wall and slap it in. It's just one sash, notintended to open and shut, so it's a simple job enough."
"Where does it go?" asked Joe.
"There, on the right-hand side of the door. Old man Snyder, in the nexthouse west, put one in some time ago, and it's such an improvement thatI decided to do the same. We'll step out presently and look at Snyder's,and then you'll see. Hallo! Come in!"
This shout was occasioned by a tapping at the door, and in response toTom's call there stepped in a tall miner, whom I recognized as GeorgeSimpson, one of the Pelican men.
"Come in, George," cried our host. "Come in and have some supper. What'snew?"
"No, I won't take any supper, thank ye," replied the miner. "I must getalong home. I just dropped in to speak to you. You know ArtyBurns?--works on the night shift? Well, Arty's sick. When he came up tothe mine to-night he was too sick to stand, so I packed him off homeagain and told him to go to bed where he belonged and I'd see to it thatsomebody went on in his place, so that he shouldn't lose his job. I'mproposing to work half his shift for him myself, and I want to findsomebody----"
"All right, George," Connor cut in. "I'll take the other half. Which doyou want? First or second?"
"Second, if it's all the same to you, Tom. If I don't get home first myold woman will think there's something the matter. So, if you don'tmind, you can go on first and I'll relieve you at half-time."
"All right, George, then I'll get out at once. You boys can wash up, ifyou will; and you'll find a mattress and plenty of blankets in the backroom. I'll be back soon after eleven."
With that, carrying a lantern in his hand, for it was getting dark, awayhe went; while the miner hurried off across lots for town; neither ofthem, apparently, thinking it anything out of the way to do a full day'swork and then, instead of taking his well-earned rest, to go off and doanother half-day's work in order to "hold the job" for a third man, towhom neither of them was under any obligation.
Nor _was_ it anything out of the way; for the silver-miners of Colorado,whatever their faults, did in those days, and probably do still,exercise towards their fellows a practical charity which might well becounted to cover a multitude of sins.
"Look here, Phil!" exclaimed my companion, after we had washed and putaway the dishes. "I'll tell you what we'll do. Let's pitch in and put inTom's second window for him!"
"Good idea!" I cried. "We'll do it! Let's go out first, though, Joe, andtake a look at old Snyder's house, so that we may see what effect Tomexpects to get."
"Come on, then!"
The row of six little houses, of which Tom's was the third, countingfrom the west, had been one of Yetmore's speculations. They weresituated on the southern outskirts of town, and were mostly occupied byminers working on the Pelican. Each house was an exact counterpart ofevery other, they having been built by contract all on one pattern.Each had a room in front and a room behind; one little brick chimney; afront door with two steps; and a window on the right-hand side of thedoor as you faced the house. All were painted the same color.
Yetmore having secured the land, had laid it out as "Yetmore's Addition"to the town of Sulphide; had marked out streets and alleys, and hadbuilt the six houses as a starter, hoping thereby to draw people outthere. But as yet his building-lots were a drug in the market: they weretoo far out; there being a vacant space of a quarter
of a mile orthereabouts between them and the next nearest houses in town. Thestreets themselves were undistinguishable from the rest of the country,being merely marked out with stakes and having had no work whateverexpended upon them.
The six houses, built about three hundred feet apart, all facednorth--towards the town--and being so far apart and all so preciselyalike, it was absolutely impossible for any one coming from town on adark night to tell which house was which. Not even the tenantsthemselves, coming across the vacant lots after nightfall, could telltheir own houses from those of their neighbors; and consequently it wasa common event for one of the sleepy inmates, stirred out of bed by aknock at the door, to find a belated citizen outside inquiring whetherthis was his house or somebody else's. Not infrequently they neglectedto knock first, and walking straight in, found themselves, to theirgreat embarrassment, in the wrong house.
Old man Snyder, a somewhat irritable old gentleman, having been thusdisturbed two nights in succession, determined that he would no longersubject himself to the nuisance. He bought a single sash and inserted asecond window on the other side of his door; a device which not onlysaved him from intrusion, but served as a guide to his neighbors infinding their own houses. It was also a very obvious improvement, and wedid not wonder that Tom Connor had determined to follow his neighbor'sexample.
Old Snyder's house was the second from the western end of the street,Tom Connor's, three hundred feet distant, came next, while next toTom's, another three hundred feet away, was a house which stillbelonged to Yetmore and was at that moment standing empty.
You will wonder, very likely, why I should go into all these details,but you will cease to wonder, I think, when you see presently of whattranscendent importance to Joe and me was the situation of these threehouses.
Joe and I, laying hands on our host's kit of tools, at once went to workon the window. As Tom had said, it was a simple job, and though it wassomething of a handicap to work by lamplight, we went at it sovigorously that by nine o'clock we had completed our task--very much toour satisfaction.
Stepping outside to observe the effect, we saw that old Snyder's windowswere lighted up also; but we had hardly noted that fact when his lightwent out.
"The old fellow goes to bed early, Joe," said I.
"Yes," Joe replied; and then, with a sudden laugh, added: "My wig, Phil!I hope there won't be anybody coming out from town to-night. If they do,there'll be complications. They will surely be taking our two windowsfor old Snyder's, for, now that his light is out, you can't see hishouse at all."
"That's a fact," said I. "If Snyder's right-hand neighbor should comeout across the flats to-night he would see our two windows, and,supposing them to be Snyder's windows, he would be almost sure to goblundering into the old fellow's house. My! How mad he would be!"
"Wouldn't he! And any one coming out to visit Tom would pretty certainlygo and pound on the door of the empty house to the left."
"Well, let us hope that nobody does come out," said I. "Come on, now,Joe. Let's get back. It's going to rain pretty soon."
"Yes; your father was right when he predicted more rain. It's going tobe a biggish one, I should think. How dark it is! I don't wonder peoplefind a difficulty in telling which house is which when all the lightsare out. Here it comes now. Step out, Phil."
As he spoke, a blast of wind from the mountains struck us, and a fewneedles of cold rain beat against our right cheeks.
We were soon inside again, when, having shut our door, we sat down to agame of checkers, in which we became so absorbed that we failed to notethe lapse of time until Tom's dollar clock, hanging on the wall, bangedout the hour of ten.
"To bed, Joe!" I cried, springing out of my chair. "Why, we haven't beenup so late for weeks."
Stepping into the back room, we soon had mattress and blankets spreadupon the floor, when, quickly undressing, I crept into bed, while Joe,returning to the front room, blew out the light.
Five minutes later we were both asleep, with a comfortable consciousnessthat we had done a good evening's work; though we little suspected howgood an evening's work it really was. For it is hardly too much to saythat had we _not_ put in Tom's second window that night we might bothhave been dead before morning.
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