Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 4, 1922 — page 77: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE gent odor of sulphur fumes, only a little ameliorated as they stepped from the lad- der at the bottom of the winze. “Hot stopes,” Hugh offered laconic ex- planation. “Ore caught fire couple years ago. Can’t put it out—too much sulphur. Deep rock gets hot—pressure, maybe; burns when it gets air. Losing lots of ore— had to block off some passages. Get what we can; then cave in the stope. Burns out the timber, and gets dangerous.” This was a statement that William could easily believe. Already his chest felt con- tricted, and he had difficulty in drawing a full breath. Sweat started from every open pore. His one desire was to turn back to the ladder as soon as possible. It was all strange, new, dark; there was something uncanny about the deep silences broken only by queer tapping and gliding sounds that seemed to come from immeasurable distances. “Men can’t work here!” he exclaimed in sudden panic at the idea. “Men do,” said Hugh, moving away into the deeper dark. “ But I can’t—I sha’n’t—I’m going back again!” These were the first statements of any kind that William had made since leav- ing the cabin for the mine. CHAPTER V. _ THE SWEAT OF HIS BROW. UGH stopped. hollow. in the passageway. “ All right. But be sure and take the turns. Man got lost—we didn’t find him for three days.” ' “ Are you trying to kill me?” William wailed. It seemed to him that this was a very present possibility. Few men ever heard Hugh McGregor laugh. He laughed now, a quiet chuckle that, immensely magnified, went rolling down the cross-cut, echoed from inclosing walls of rock. It was born of sympathy rather than amusement. “Jumpy? Don’t wonder—feels queer, just at first. Get used to it later. Only had one accident this year. Not @ coal- mine—safer down here than on top.” NIGHT SHIFT. His voice sounded > 387 William was more reassured by the chuckle than by the explanation, even though Hugh’s amusement stirred up his resentment once again. But Hugh had not made the mistake of underestimating the actual physical courage that young William owned; he had seen him stand up to Davies at the Horseshoe Club, and reckoned with a display of it on that same day. More than that, he had known the boy’s father very well, and placed some confidence in heredity. ‘“Come on,” said Hugh. William fol- lowed. Turning to right and left, the men passed through a series of stoppings and brattices, partitions of planking or canvas which controlled the ventilation in the pas- sages of the stope. _ As they advanced the sounds of tapping became more pronounced. Hugh allowed a few minutes’ delay before the partially stopped entrance to an adit, a narrow drain- age tunnel sloping steeply down, where a rush of cool, sweet air flowing from an un- known source carried with it the subdued roar of a distant ventilator fan. Ten feet from this opening the heat and murky vapors grew more oppressive with each forward step. Here the workings were dimly lighted by electric bulbs at occasion- al intervals overhead; their light, however, was almost wholly obscured by metallic films covering the glass, deposited by the constant acid drip falling from the ceiling of the drift. That drip annoyed William yery much. It fell on his head, carrying with it a slimy . weight of mud; where it fell hotly on his hands and neck, it presently set up an in- tolerable itching; it would, in time, blister the toughest skin. But, despite his first uneasiness, William began to feel something of real interest in the working of the mine. Previously he owned no conception that all the dollars which he had spent so joyously in the light had once been hidden so deeply in this pit of darkness, to be painfully grubbed up by human moles, and thereafter, by means as yet unknown to him, cleaned and polished for his reckless use. He did not really un- derstand this now, but dim realization be- gan to. stir in him. COmiclbooks.CGom