"Lie down; quick!"
"I can stand up as long as you can, Lieutenant," answered Tom, "even if I am not a soldier."
"But it is my duty to stand just now," said the lieutenant. "I must direct this operation and strike from here the moment my flanking parties reach proper positions."
"And it is my pleasure to stand," answered Tom, "to see how you do it."
The lieutenant again brought his glass to his eyes. Then he lowered it and looked earnestly at Tom, who still stood erect by his side, paying no heed to the rain of bullets about him.
"Why aren't you at West Point?" he asked. "You're the sort we want in the army."
Then, without waiting for an answer, the lieutenant again looked through his glass and seeing that his flanking parties had gained the positions desired in rear of the mountaineers, he ordered the whole line to advance as rapidly as possible. At the same time the flanking parties closed in upon the rear of the mountaineers, and five minutes later the action ended in the surrender of all the moonshiners.
Tom saw it all, but when it was over he discovered a pain in his left ear, and, feeling, found that a small-bore bullet had passed through what he called the flap of it, boring a hole as round as if it had been punched with a railroad conductor's instrument.
The captured mountaineers were brought at once to Camp Venture. Two of them were dead and three severely wounded. To these last and to two of the lieutenant's men who had also received bullets in their bodies, the Doctor ministered assiduously. The unwounded mountaineers were placed in a hastily constructed "guard house," built just under the bluff.
CHAPTER XXIX
A Puzzling Situation
No sooner was the action over and the wounded men attended to than the lieutenant again talked with the revenue officer. That person was more halting and irresolute than ever. He had hidden, in a crouching position behind the barrier during the fight, and Jack, seeing him thus screened, had said to him:
"Perhaps you now begin to understand why we needed our protective work;" but the man made no answer. The lieutenant said to him after the mélee:
"Now that I have two of my own men and three of the mountaineers severely wounded, I cannot march down the mountain. I shall stay here and answer any duty call you may make upon me. But I must have food for my men and for your prisoners. Are you going to provide it or are you not?"
The man who was not only irresolute but an arrant coward as well, hesitated. He pleaded for "time to think."
"But while you are thinking," answered the soldier, "we'll all starve. Are you ready to send one of your men down the mountain under escort or are you not? Yes or no, and I'll act accordingly."
"Well, you see, this fuss will bring all the moonshiners in the mountains down upon us," answered the man, "and really, Lieutenant, I don't think it would be prudent just now, to weaken your force by detaching any of your men. We might all be butchered here at any moment."
The military officer was exasperated almost beyond endurance by the manifest cowardice and obstinacy of the revenue agent. He was on the point of breaking out into denunciation, but he restrained himself and called to a sentinel instead. When the sentinel came he said to him:
"Tell Sergeant Malby to report to me," and when the sergeant touched his hat and stood "at attention," the lieutenant said:
"Go at once and make out a requisition for one month's supplies for all the troops and all the prisoners, and for pack mules enough to bring the stuff up the mountain. Order Corporal Jenkins to report to me with a detail of four men, equipped for active work, immediately."
Then borrowing writing materials from the boys, he wrote a hurried note to his commandant below, relating the events that had occurred and setting forth the circumstances in which he was placed. By the time that this was done, the sergeant returned with the requisition ready for signature, and the corporal reported with his squad. With a few hurried instructions to the corporal, the lieutenant sent him down the mountain, specially charging him to hurry both going and coming. "You see we've got all these prisoners to feed—seven of them, not counting the wounded—as well as ourselves. We'll all be starving in another twenty-four hours. So make all haste."
Then the lieutenant sought out the boys, who had gone to work at their chopping—all of them except the Doctor, who was still busy over the wounded men,—for Ed was now well enough to do a little work each day, under orders to avoid severe strains and heavy lifting.
When the officer sought out Jack and asked him for a conference, Jack called the other boys about him, explaining:
"Our camp is sort of a republic, Lieutenant, in which all have an equal voice, while each does the thing that he can do better than anybody else can. So with your permission I will call all the boys together for our talk."
The lieutenant assented and all sat down on the logs that were lying about.
"We're in a rather awkward position," said the military man. "That revenue agent asked our commandant for some soldiers to protect him in raiding a still up here. He gave us the impression that it would take one day to come up here and do the work, and one day for our return. So I was ordered to take half a company, with three days' cooked rations, and accompany the revenue officers. They knew just where your camp was, and they thought they knew that it was the still they wanted.
"Now the irresolute—Well never mind that. The revenue agent insists upon staying in the mountains for an indefinite time, and now that two of my men and three of our prisoners are severely wounded and in the hands of your good young Doctor, I am not reluctant to stay. But we must have food, and that sublimated idiot has provided none and is afraid even to send after any. So I have myself sent a squad down the mountain with a requisition. They will return just as quickly as possible, but I don't see how it will be possible for them to get back under two, or more—probably three days. So I want to ask you to lend us some provisions, which I will return the moment the caravan gets here."
"But we have no provisions!" said Jack, in consternation. "Our total supply consists of less than two bags of meal and perhaps half a dozen squirrels and rabbits. That wouldn't go far among so many."
"I'll tell you what," broke in Tom. "If the lieutenant will lend me two men to help carry, I'll go foraging and see what I can bring in in the way of game."
Jack explained to the military man that Tom had been from the first the camp's reliance for meat supplies, and that incidentally he had secured all the meal that was then in camp.
"Excellent!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "We have more bread than anything else, and we needn't borrow any of your meal. But if your brother—by the way, it was you who stood by me in the fight out there this morning, wasn't it? Are you much hurt?"
"Oh, no," answered Tom. "One of those moonshiners thought I ought to wear earrings, and so he pierced my left ear with a bullet, that's all," said Tom, whose ear the Doctor had carefully disinfected and bandaged.
"But why aren't you at West Point?" again asked the officer. "I never saw a cooler hand or a boy that the army so clearly needed. Why aren't you at West Point?"
"Because I can't get an appointment," said Tom.
"Why can't you get an appointment?"
"Because I have no political influence. You see my father, while he lived, was very active in politics, and he belonged to a party just the opposite of the one our present Congressman belongs to."
"Would you like to go?" asked the lieutenant.
"Very much, indeed," answered Tom. "I want just the sort of education they give there."
"Could you stand the entrance examinations—say a year hence?"
"Yes. I could stand them now. I went all over that ground when I first tried to get an appointment."
"Well now," broke in Jack, "this isn't getting meat. Tom, go hunting immediately, and keep on going hunting till the famine in this camp is over. I haven't a doubt the lieutenant will lend you the men you want to help carry game."
"Certainly!" answered the lieutenant, beckoning to a sentinel to come to him.
"Tell Sergeant Malby to send me two strong men instantly."
Tom took two guns with him, requiring one of the soldiers to carry the rifle, while he carried the shot gun, double loaded, for big or little game. It was now about noon, and the hunting party did not return till after dark. When they did they brought with them as the spoil of our young Nimrod's guns, a half grown bear, a deer weighing perhaps a hundred and fifty pounds, three wild turkeys and a big string of hares and squirrels. Besides these Tom was laboriously dragging by a string a big wild boar.
"That boar's a disputed bird," he said. "This soldier, Johnson, and I fired at him at the same instant. He set out to rip Johnson open with his tusks, like a vest with no buttons on it, and Johnson fired to protect himself. At the same moment I fired a charge of buckshot into the beast. Johnson's bullet struck him in the neck, just about where I fondly imagine the jugular vein or something else of that sort to be, while my nine buckshot striking him just behind the left fore leg, went through him about where his heart ought to be if it's in the right place. Anyhow the animal gave up the ghost in an astonishing hurry, and possibly the Doctor might find out, by a post mortem examination, which shot killed him. But in my humble opinion the time necessary for that can be better spent in preparing the gentleman for the table. I move that we roast him whole and invite the soldiers to dine with us! He's big enough to go round."
It did not take long to carry that motion or to begin carrying it into effect. The lieutenant ordered the company cook to assist Ed in preparing the wild boar and roasting him. Ed carefully saved the "giblets" for future use, a proceeding which gave the company cook a totally new economic suggestion in the use of animals killed for food. Then the two required the other soldiers to build a great fire out-of-doors, and to erect a pole frame work near it, from which they hung the boar to roast. Ed gave the cook still another good suggestion by thrusting a dripping pan under the hog and catching all he could of the fat that fell from the animal.
"What do you do that for?" asked the company cook.
"For two reasons," answered Ed. "First, because I want all this fat to cook with and to use as butter hereafter. You've no idea how far it goes when people are on short rations. Secondly, because if all this fat fell upon these glowing coals it would blaze up and our hog would be scorched and burned. You are a company cook and I never was anything of the sort. But I honestly believe I could teach you some things about cooking."
"Of course you could," said the soldier. "And perhaps I could teach you some also. I could show you how to bake bread on a barrel head, or even on a ramrod, only we don't have ramrods since these new-fangled breech-loading guns came into use."
Two or three hours later, at ten o'clock, the big porker was roasted "to a turn," and Jack, recognizing the necessity of maintaining military distinctions in all that related to association in military life, invited the lieutenant to take the night dinner with him and his companions inside the house, leaving the soldiers to dine out of doors, in accordance with their custom. So Jack asked Ed to cut off a ham and some other choice parts of the wild boar and send them into the hut. There the boys and the lieutenant dined together, with the three revenue officers for additional guests.
The lieutenant had no very kindly feelings for the chief revenue officer, because he had discovered him to be a coward, and a brave man never likes to touch elbows with a coward, at dinner or any where else. On the other hand the chief revenue officer had no very kindly feelings for the lieutenant, because he knew that the lieutenant had found him out for the coward and incapable that he was, and it is not in human nature for any man to feel kindly toward another who has found him out to that extent.
Nevertheless the dinner passed off pleasantly enough until the lieutenant, at its end, asked of the revenue agent:
"Are you going to raid any stills to-night?"
"No!" angrily answered the officer. "Why do you keep on asking me that question?"
"Only that I may make my dispositions accordingly," calmly answered the lieutenant. "You forget that I am here in an entirely subordinate capacity. I am under no orders to raid stills. I am here only to support you in any raids you may make. You represent the civil arm, I the military, and the military arm is always subordinate to the civil. It is not for me to suggest that you might successfully raid half a dozen stills to-night. It is my duty simply to offer my services and those of my men in aid of any plans you may have formed. And, as it is my duty to consult the comfort of my men, so far as that is possible, I naturally ask whether you want them on marching duty to-night or whether I may order them to make themselves as comfortable as they can in bivouac. As I now understand that you do not contemplate any active operations to-night, I will make my dispositions accordingly. Sentinel!"
This last was a summons to the soldier who always stands guard just outside the door of any house or tent in which a commanding officer may be. The sentinel entered immediately and saluted.
"Call the corporal of the guard," commanded the lieutenant, "and bid him report to me for instructions."
In half a minute the corporal came. The only instructions he received were these:
"Bid the sergeant report to me here." Thus in military life is everything done "decently and in order." The sentinel could not have summoned the sergeant without quitting his post; but he could summon the corporal by a simple guard call, and the corporal could go to the sergeant and summon him to the lieutenant's presence. When he appeared and deferentially saluted, the lieutenant said to him:
"We shall remain where we are till further orders. Dispose the men in the best way you can to make them comfortable and let them build camp-fires. Throw out six pickets up the mountain on the south, one below here on the north, one on the east and one on the west. Send the men on the south as far up the mountain as where the enemy was encountered this morning. Then charge the sentries who are guarding our prisoners to be on the alert and serve as camp guards as well. They are to listen for shots from any of the pickets and report to me as soon as one is heard from any direction. I shall sleep under the bluff, near the spring. The watchword is 'alert;' the countersign 'attention.'"
"But, lieutenant," said Jack, when the sergeant had taken his leave, "why will you not accept our hospitality? Why will you not sleep here in our house? We have five wounded men here, it is true, but there is one spare bunk and you are more than welcome to it."
"I am very grateful, I am sure," said the lieutenant, "but it is the rule of my life that whenever I am in command and my men have to sleep in the open, I also sleep in the open. I have lived up to that rule even in a blizzard on the plains. Besides, this—well, this revenue officer—has done just enough to provoke the moonshiners and their friends, and not half enough to intimidate them. That is why I ordered our pickets thrown so far out to-night. There is a half sunken road running across the ridge up there. They had it for a breastwork this morning. I mean to have it next time. But what I was going to say is this: A man sleeping in a house sleeps soundly; a man sleeping in the open sleeps very lightly. As it is my purpose to visit all my pickets at least three times to-night, I want to sleep very lightly; so with all thanks for your courteous hospitality, I will sleep out under the bluff to-night, and now I must say good night."
CHAPTER XXX
A Point of Honor
There was no disturbance that night, and the next morning Tom took his two soldiers and went hunting again. Tom had a positive genius for getting game. This time he brought back no deer, no wild boar, and no half grown bear; but he and his soldiers were loaded down with turkeys, squirrels and hares. There was meat enough in the camp now to last for a day or two, but the bread supply was nearly exhausted, inasmuch as the boys had divided their meal with the soldiers.
In this situation the lieutenant went to Tom and engaged him in conversation.
"Now, I know," he said, "that there are many stills around here. Every one of them has a supply of ground up grain, and I want some of it. You have hunted all over the mountains, and of course you know where some at least of the stills are."
"Yes, I know where several of them are," answered Tom.
"Well, I propose to raid some of them, to get breadstuffs. Will you go with my men and point out the stills?"
"No!" answered Tom, with emphasis on the monosyllable.
"But why not?" asked the lieutenant. "Surely you are not afraid."
"Not the least bit," answered Tom. "But I've entered into an honorable agreement with the moonshiners and I mean to keep it. I've assured them that we boys were not here to spy them out and betray them, and I've pledged them my honor that if they let us alone we would let them alone. You see this illicit distilling is none of my business, or yours either, Lieutenant. It's the business of the revenue officers. Now under our honorable agreement these people, who began by ordering us off the mountain and followed that up by shooting at us for not going, have let us alone for many weeks past, and I am going to keep my promise to let them alone in return."
"But they haven't let you alone," answered the lieutenant. "Their assault upon the camp—"
"Pardon me," answered Tom. "That was not an assault upon us, but upon the revenue officers and their military support. I do not think it absolves me from my promise. Besides that, I doubt if you have any right to raid stills except under orders of the revenue officers, and they are too badly frightened to undertake anything of the kind. You have no warrants. Your sole duty and right and privilege is to go with these revenue officers and protect them in the execution of their duty."
"That is certainly true," answered the lieutenant after a moment's pause for consideration. "I hadn't thought of it in that way."
"And still further," said Tom, "it is very certain that there isn't an illicit still now running on this mountain. The moment you fellows appeared every still was ripped off its furnace and buried somewhere, every mash tub was emptied and sent bowling down the mountain, and every scrap of evidence that there had ever been an illicit still there was completely destroyed. So, even if you find the buildings in which the business was formerly carried on, what right will you have to seize upon the meal or anything else you may find there? You might as well raid a mill and seize all that you find in it."
"But you know, Tom, and I know, that these people are lawlessly engaged in defrauding the revenue."
"Of course," said Tom. "But that doesn't justify you in violating the law and robbing them of their meal. If you could catch them in defrauding the revenue you might perhaps have a right to confiscate their materials, as the law prescribes, though as you're not a revenue officer I doubt that. Just now you can't possibly catch them doing anything of the kind. Understand me, Lieutenant, I am as much devoted as you are to law and order. I know these men to be thieves and upon occasion murderers. But neither of us has a right to convict them without proof of their guilt."
Tom had never made so long a speech in all his life or one inspired by so much of earnestness.
The lieutenant sat silent for a while, thinking the matter over. Presently he arose, took Tom's hand and said:
"I believe you are right, Tom. At any rate you are right on the point of honor that controls your own course in this matter. We are taught at West Point that whenever there is the least or the greatest doubt as to a point of honor, it is an honorable man's duty to give honor the benefit of the doubt. We'll make no raids except under the warrants of the revenue officers. We'll live on meat till the caravan comes up the mountain."
CHAPTER XXXI
Corporal Jenkins's March
But the caravan did not come. A thaw had set in, reinforced by a rain, and all the mountain streams were torrents again—utterly impassable.
When Tom explained the case the lieutenant said:
"Nevertheless Corporal Jenkins will get here with the supplies. He may be much longer in coming than we hoped for, but he will come. He is a man of resource and he never gives up."
In the meantime Corporal Jenkins was in a very bad way half way up the mountain side. He had passed one torrent while yet it was only half full, and now it was so full that he could not even retreat with his mule caravan. In front was another torrent that it would have been sheer insanity to attempt to cross—a stream fifty feet wide, rushing down through a gorge with a violence that carried great stones with it, some of them weighing many tons, while the water was almost completely filled with a tangled mass of whirling trees that had been torn up by the roots by the on rush of the waters.
"We'll have to go back, Corporal," suggested one of the men.
"We can't go back," he replied. "That last stream we crossed is as full as this one now. Besides we must get these supplies to camp."
"But how?"
"I don't know how! Shut up and let me think the thing out."
After his thinking the corporal ordered the caravan to leave the trail and work its way up the mountain in the space between the two streams. It was a difficult and sometimes a perilous ascent. There were cliffs in the way around and over which a passage was partly found and partly forced by great labor. At some places the pathway was so steep that no mule could carry his load up it. Here the corporal divided the loads and led the mules up with only one-fourth or one-fifth of the burden upon each. Then unloading that he took the animals back again and placed another portion of their load upon their backs, repeating the journey as often as might be necessary. As he had twenty mules in his pack train it sometimes took half a day to get over thirty or forty yards of distance in this tedious and toilsome fashion. But at any rate there was progress made.
Often, too, there were great detours to be made in order to get around obstacles that could not be overcome. Thus day after day was consumed in the tedious climb up the mountain. The corporal knew how anxiously his commanding officer was awaiting his coming, but he could not hurry it more than he was already doing.
"What's your plan, Corporal?" asked one of the men when a bivouac was made one evening.
"Simple enough," answered the corporal. "When you've served in the mountains as long as I have, you'll know that every mountain torrent has a beginning somewhere up towards the top of the mountain. I'm simply following this one up to find its head waters and go around them."
The raging stream had grown much smaller now, as the caravan neared its place of beginning, and the next morning the corporal found a place at which he thought it safe to attempt a crossing. It was perilous work, but after an hour or two of struggle all the mules and all the men were got safely to the farther side.
The corporal knew that he was much higher up the mountain than the site of Camp Venture. But it was no part of his plan to descend until he had passed the head waters of all other streams and reached a point directly south of the camp and above it. So he proceeded westward around the mountain.
Without knowing what the trusty corporal's plans or proceedings would be, the lieutenant felt that he was likely to have difficulty in locating the camp. So he ordered a brush fire kept burning night and day, so that the smoke of it by day and the light of it by night might be seen from a great distance.
Finally, exactly ten days from the time of the corporal's departure, his caravan was seen slowly and toilsomely descending the mountain toward the camp.
A great shout of gladness went up from all the men, who had tasted nothing but meat for a week past, and Tom, seizing his rifle started up the hill at a rapid pace to show the corporal the easiest way down the steep mountain side.
When the corporal reached camp the lieutenant complimented him highly upon his skill and success in overcoming difficulties, and declared his purpose to make a commendatory report of his conduct of the expedition.
"But how did you happen to come to us from up the mountain instead of from down the mountain?" asked the lieutenant, while eagerly devouring an ash cake.
"Why," said the corporal, "when I found my road up the mountain blocked by an impassable torrent, I remembered some of my old soldier experiences and I turned them around. I remembered that when we camp on hills and set out in search of water the rule is to keep always going down hill, because that's the way water runs. If you keep on doing that you'll come to water after awhile. So, turning that around, I said to myself, 'all this water comes from up the mountain. The only way to get past it is to go clear up to where it comes from.' That's what I did, and then I marched straight around the high mountain till I saw your brush fire last night about midnight. I wanted to come right on, but both the men and the mules were exhausted by a terrific day's work and besides it was too dark to see the difficult way; so I bivouacked for the night and started down the hill between daylight and sunrise. There, Lieutenant, that's the whole story, and it isn't much of a story, at that."
"Well, I don't know," said the lieutenant, meditatively. "It's enough of a story at any rate to make a sergeant out of Corporal Jenkins, if my recommendations carry any weight at headquarters. Corporal, you have conducted this affair in a masterly manner, with zeal, skill and discretion. My report will mention these facts."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," was all that the soldier could say. But it was quite enough.
CHAPTER XXXII
The Lieutenant's Wrath
The lieutenant's faith in Tom's sportsmanship was so great that in making his requisition for thirty days' rations for his men and his prisoners he had asked to have all the meat rations, except a dozen sides of bacon, commuted into rations of flour, meal, maccaroni, rice, potatoes and other starchy foods. His first care, after the mules were unloaded, was to replenish the leader of Camp Venture with such provisions as these in return for the drafts he had been compelled to make upon their supplies. "And besides," he said, "Camp Venture is just now my hospital, with five wounded men in it, to every one of whom ten days' rations are overdue."
Thus at last the boys were abundantly supplied with starchy food and for the rest Tom's gun never failed to provide a sufficient supply of meat.
Now that five of the six bunks in Camp Venture were occupied by wounded men, the boys made for themselves the best beds they could, on the earthen floor. At first it was proposed that the Doctor should occupy the one bunk not devoted to the use of a wounded man, but the Doctor dismissed the suggestion with scorn. Next it was suggested that Ed should still consider himself an invalid and accept the hospitality of the bunk.
"But I'm no longer an invalid," answered Ed, almost angrily. "I'm well enough now to chop down trees, and take cold baths. A pretty sort of sick fellow I am!"
Finally it was agreed that the several boys should occupy the bunk in succession, one each night, and lots were drawn for the order in which they should occupy it. As the soldiers now kept guard it was no longer necessary for the boys to keep a sentinel awake.
The lieutenant's second care after provisioning the boys, was to make another appeal to the revenue officer, or rather to place that person again in his rightful position of responsibility.
"I have provisioned my force," he said. "Are you contemplating any further operations in the mountains? If so I shall be glad to place myself and my men at your disposal. We can march at a moment's notice."
"I don't know," said the officer, "whether further operations just now would yield results commensurate with the risk. What do you think, Lieutenant?"
"Oh, it is not my business to think," answered the military man, "at least not on questions of that kind. I have been ordered up here to give military support to any operations that you may undertake against the illicit distillers. Beyond giving such military support I have no functions whatever."
"But what do you think, Lieutenant?"
"I tell you I am not thinking. I am simply waiting for orders."
"But surely you have some opinion. Won't you give me the benefit of it?"
"Yes," answered the lieutenant. "I have an opinion—several of them, in fact—and as you insist, I will give you the benefit of them. It is my opinion that you have conducted your affairs like an imbecile. You were sent up here to break up the illicit stills and you haven't found one of them yet and never will. You found this camp of wood chopping boys and made me capture it for you. Then the moonshiners took the offensive, while you were pottering around here trying to find a still where a mere glance would have convinced an intelligent man that there was none. Very well, I captured the moonshiners while you were hiding behind the Camp Venture barricade. They are our prisoners, no thanks to you. I think now, as I told you at the time, that then, if ever, was your time to search out the stills and capture them. You would not do it, and it is my conviction that by this time every still in the mountain is so securely hidden that a fine tooth comb couldn't find one of them or any tangible evidence that one of them was ever in existence. You've got the materials for a report, of course,—a report showing so many prisoners captured—but I fancy you'll find it difficult to show either that you captured them or that you had any authority to capture them. I captured them and I had a right to do so, because they attacked a body of regular troops engaged in doing their duty. In other words, they levied war upon the United States and were caught in the act. The charge of treason cannot be sustained against them, probably; if not they are guilty of rioting, assault and battery and all that sort of thing. But what charge can you bring against them? You may say that they are moonshiners, but you can't offer a particle of proof of that, simply because you would not follow up this affair by hunting out the stills. There, you have a few of my leading 'opinions,' and as you don't seem to relish them, perhaps I needn't give you any more."
The revenue agent was dejected beyond measure. For a time he sat still with a flushed and angry face. Then, as he realized the situation in which he had placed himself by his foolishness and indecision, he turned pale. Finally he appealed again to the lieutenant:
"Won't you advise me what to do now at any rate?" he asked.
"I'll advise you as to nothing. When the time to act came I volunteered some advice and you rejected it. I now simply notify you that my force will be held ready to march at a moment's warning to any point where you may feel the need of military support in the discharge of your duty."
"But, Lieutenant—"
"I tell you I have said all I am going to say," broke in the military man, angered quite as much by the man's imbecility as by his obvious cowardice. "I await any requisition you may make upon me for military support, and I will instantly respond to every such requisition. As to advice, I have none to offer. When we go back down the mountain, you doubtless will make your report. I will make mine also. Good night, sir."
And with that the lieutenant strode away to his camp fire out under the bluff, gave his orders for the night and went to sleep with a clear conscience.
CHAPTER XXXIII
A Homing Prospect
The revenue officers and the soldiers remained at Camp Venture, the Doctor caring for the wounded men who were rapidly recovering as the days went by. Meantime the boys were nearing the end of their winter's work and were looking forward rather eagerly to a home-going in the near future. Tom continued to hunt for game, and his diligence in that direction provided a sufficient supply of meat, while the lieutenant's stores furnished enough bread stuffs for all.
The chief revenue officer announced his purpose to take his party down the mountain as soon as the streams should be passable, and Jack announced his intention of taking his party down as soon as they should have finished the work they had laid out for themselves.
"I shan't wait for the streams to get out of the way," he said. "We'll go down the mountain not by the road, but over the cliffs as Tom did that night we were so scared about him. There are no streams to cross there. That's perfectly feasible, isn't it, Tom?"
"Oh, yes," answered Tom, "particularly as we shall have the Doctor along to patch up any broken legs or arms that we may get in dropping down over precipices."
"Is there serious danger of that?" asked Jim.
"Yes, if you are careless; no, if you are careful," answered Tom. "In fact, my experience teaches me that that's usually the case. The man who doesn't look out for himself usually meets with what he calls 'accidents' and blames Luck, or Fortune or Providence with mishaps which a little intelligent care on his own part would have averted. In fact I don't believe there is any such thing as accident, strictly speaking."
"How about that perforated ear of yours, Tom?" asked Ed.
"Oh, that illustrates my point. That wasn't an accident at all. I might have stayed here in the house that morning, and I'd have been perfectly safe. You see, I had no business out there on the line. The work to be done there belonged exclusively to the soldiers. But, with my curiosity to see how such things were managed I went out there and then like a young idiot I stood up by the lieutenant, when all the soldiers were lying down. If I hadn't done that I wouldn't have got my ear pierced. No, there's no such thing as accident in a world that is governed by law."
"But Tom," asked Jim Chenowith, "suppose you are on a railroad train and it runs off the track and you are considerably done up. Isn't that an accident?"
"No. The train would never have run off the track if everybody had done his duty. But somebody laid the rails carelessly, or some engineer failed to discover that a stone was loose on the cliff above and about to drop down on the track, or somebody else failed somewhere; otherwise the train would never have run off the track. I tell you I don't believe there is any such thing as accident, in the strict sense of the word. This world is governed by law. Causes produce their effects as certainly as the multiplication table gives its results. The trouble is we don't take enough care of the causes."
"But sometimes we don't know enough to do that," said Jack.
"Well, ignorance is the cause in that case. I don't say that one is always to blame for the evils that befall him. I only say that they don't befall him by 'accident,' and that with due care we can avoid most of them. That is particularly true in letting yourself down over a precipice by holding on to bushes. Some bushes hold on tenaciously and some give way with the smallest pull. The thing to do is never to let go of the secure one till you have tried the next one and satisfied yourself of its stability—or better still, never to trust yourself to one bush except while making an instantaneous change, but hold by two always. But I say, Jack, how near are we to the end of our job?"
"Well," said Jack, taking out his memorandum book and studying the entries in it, "we have only about sixty more ties to send down. We have already sent a great deal more cord wood than we agreed to, but as to that the railroad people said 'the more the better,' and so with bridge timbers. We did not agree to furnish any particular number of them and I fancy the railroad people didn't expect us to send more than two or three, while in fact we have sent down twenty-nine and have six more nearly ready to send. My plan is to cut the remaining ties which we are permitted to furnish under our contract, send down the bridge timbers that we have ready or nearly so, cut up all the remains of the felled timber into cord wood and send that down, and then go down ourselves. Even if the trail were open, which it isn't likely to be for some weeks to come, I should favor going down over the cliffs instead, because that will land us near where we want to be, while if we went down by the trail we should have to walk fifteen miles to get there."
The camp was early astir next morning, for now that the thought of going home had come to them, the boys were eager to hasten the time for it.
"By working hard," said Jack, "we can turn out ten or twelve ties a day, or under favorable conditions twenty. At three o'clock to-day we'll begin working the chutes and as I reckon it we'll be ready to start down a little before the first of April, and that was the date set. The weather is fine now and growing finer every day."
"Yes," answered Harry, "and the days are growing long enough to enable us to do full days' work."
Under the new inspiration the axes were briskly used that day until three o'clock. Then all hands were called to help roll the big bridge timbers into place and send them down the mountain. Four of them were sent off, the others not being quite ready yet. But the handling of these big timbers was slow work and so night fell before any of the ties or cordwood could be sent down the chute. There were twenty-one ties ready and about thirty cords of wood. But these must wait until three o'clock the next day, and by that time the number of ties and the quantity of cord wood would be considerably increased.
CHAPTER XXXIV
In the Hands of the Enemy
Weary as they were with their over-energetic day's work, the boys went to bed early that night—all of them but Tom. That tireless Nimrod had found a bear's den the day before and was minded to go out and watch for the bear that inhabited it. "Your bear is a night prowler," he said, "and if I can catch this one going out of his den or into it to-night, I'll bring home a supply of meat. We're a trifle short of that commodity just now."
Several of the boys wanted to go with Tom, and the lieutenant, who had dined with them that evening, wanted to send two soldiers as his assistants.
"No," said Tom, "I don't want anybody with me. We'd inevitably talk, and then we'd never see a bear. I'll go alone."
With that he took his rifle and went out into the darkness, while the rest of the boys went to bed and to sleep.
As he neared the bear den which he had discovered during the day and identified by tracks, Tom moved very cautiously, making no noise, and, secreting himself between two rock masses, lay down to await developments.
Hour after hour passed, and there were none. Still Tom maintained an attitude of alert attention.
Presently a great light appeared over a spur of the mountain, in the direction of Camp Venture.
"There's something the matter over there," said Tom to himself, "but with all those soldiers there they don't need me half as much as they need a bear."
Just at that moment—it was about three o'clock in the morning—Tom heard a crackling of sticks near at hand, and a moment later a great black bear came waddling and lumbering along on his way to the den.
With that instinct of humorous perception which was strong in Tom, he could not help likening the belated beast to a convivial gentleman returning from his club in the small hours.
Then it occurred to him that convivial gentlemen under such circumstances are sometimes "held up" at their own door ways, a fact which still further heightened the resemblance between the two cases. It next occurred to Tom that should his shot prove ineffective or imperfectly effective, the bear might get the better of him, as convivial gentlemen sometimes do with footpads. For, from the point at which Tom was lying, there was no avenue of escape except directly in the path of the bear, and a wounded bear is about as ugly an enemy to encounter as it is possible to find anywhere.
"Moral:" said Tom to himself, "Don't shoot till you've got a bead on a vital point. Fortunately this rifle has an 'initial velocity' as they call it, which will send a bullet through the thickest skull that any animal in the world wears as a breastwork to his brains."
Of course Tom would have preferred to shoot at the animal's heart, but there was no chance to do that, for at that moment the great beast discovered his huntsman and presented his full front to him at a distance of less than ten feet. Another second and the bear would make mince meat of the boy. So Tom taking a hasty aim fired at the animal's forehead, and the bullet did its work so well that the beast fell instantly dead.
After waiting for a minute or so to see if any scratching capacity remained in his game, Tom went to the bear and after inspecting it muttered: "I've shot Ursa Major himself," for the bear was of unusual bulk, greatly the largest Tom had ever seen. "I wonder what the stars will look like now that the constellation of the Great Bear is done for."
The beast was much too heavy for Tom to carry or even drag to the camp. So he instantly set out in search of assistance. His plan was to go to the camp and secure three or four soldiers to assist him in transporting his game. But he had not gone far on his campward journey before he was "held up" by three mountaineers. Fortunately one of the party—apparently its leader—was his own particular mountaineer, the one whom he had set free and who had so generously repaid his favor with gifts of corn and rye meal.
"Now set down, little Tom," said the man; "we wants a little talk with you."
"All right," said Tom, "I'm ready."
"Well you see, you done tole me an' I done tole the other folks as how you boys had nothin' whatsomever to do with the revenue officers or the soldiers."
"That's all right," said Tom. "We haven't had anything to do with them, we haven't spied upon you fellows or molested you in any way."
"But there's a big gang o' soldiers an' revenue officers in your camp."
"Yes, I know that," said Tom. "But are we talking fair and square as we did before?"
"Yes, fa'r an' squar'," answered the man.
"Very well then, I'll tell you about this matter. We boys don't like your illegal occupation up here in the mountains, but it is none of our business. We have never spied out your stills and certainly we have given no information to the revenue officers."
"What did they come up here for then?" asked one of the mountaineer's companions.
"They came up to capture us. They had seen the lights of Camp Venture and had located us. So they thought they had a still sure, and they came up here to capture it. The first thing they did was to surround us and fire at us in the dark. I explained matters to them and they searched our camp all over. Then they decided to camp there till they could get some provisions from down below, and while they were waiting, they asked me to tell them where the stills were so that they might raid them for meal. I knew where some stills were of course, for I've seen a lot since I came up here, but I refused to tell them."
"Is that honest Injun, Tom?"
"Yes," answered the boy. "I never tell lies. But you must understand me clearly. I haven't the smallest respect for you moonshiners or for your business. Under ordinary circumstances I should not hesitate to tell the revenue officers where a still was if I happened to know. But I made a bargain with you, Bill Jones. I told you truly that we had come up here to cut railroad ties and not to interfere with you or your criminal business. I told you that if you'd let us alone we'd let you alone. We could have sent a message down the mountain by our chute any day which would have brought the soldiers and the revenue people up at once but we didn't. I had promised you and I have kept my promise."
"Yes," answered Bill Jones, "an' you let me off in a state prison case, jest in time to save my little gal from starvin' to death! I'll never forgit it, an' I tell you fellers you mustn't hurt little Tom. Ef you do, I'll stand on his side an' they'll be some ugly work done before you're through with it."
"Well," said one of the men, "he tells a mighty nice, slick story like, an' maybe it's true. But they's jest one question I'd like to ask him afore we close the conversation like."
"Ask me any question you please," said Tom, "and I'll answer it truly. I have nothing to conceal, and I never tell lies."
"Well," said the man after discharging a quid of tobacco from further service and biting off a new one to take its place, "what I want to know is what you'se been doin', out here in the mounting all night like."
"That's easy," said Tom. "I've been killing a bear."
"Where?" asked the man.
"About a quarter of a mile back. You see we're getting short of meat down there in camp, with all these soldiers quartered upon us."
"Then ef you done got a bear whar is it?" asked the man.
"It is back there, as I tell you, about a quarter of a mile."
"Why didn't you bring it with you?" asked the man.
"Simply because it is too heavy. It is the biggest bear I ever saw. I was on my way to camp, when you stopped me, to get some fellows to come out here and help me drag it."
"Will you show it to us?" asked the man, still incredulously. "Seein's believin' you know."
"Certainly," said Tom. "The little old moon is rising now, and you can get a good look at the bear that I've sat up all night to kill."
He led the way back and at sight of the bear even the incredulous one of the party was satisfied.
"Now," spoke up Bill Jones, "we've got jest one thing to do. Ef this bar is left here it'll be half et up by varmints afore men can be brought from the camp to carry it in. Fellers we've got to carry it in fer Little Tom—him what let me go jist in time to save my little gal from starvin' when her mother was lyin dead in the cabin an' fer two days the little gal hadn't so much as a bite to eat. We'll drag the bar to the camp fer Little Tom!"
One of the men offered an objection: "We'll git arrested ef we do," he said.
"For what?" asked Tom.
"Why fer moonshining of course."
"But you haven't been caught moonshining. Nobody in camp can accuse you of that or any other crime. Anyhow if you fellows will help me to camp with this bear I pledge you my honor that I'll stand by you and see to it that you're not arrested."
"That's 'nuff sed," said Bill Jones. "Little Tom never goes back on his word, an' he knows how to manage things. We'll take the bar to camp."
The men assented but with hesitation and obvious reluctance. Seeing their hesitation Bill Jones spoke again:
"Now I tell you, you needn't worry the least little bit. I know whereof I speak, as the Bible says, when I tell you that you kin bet all you've got on Little Tom Ridsdale. When he says a thing he means it an' when he means it he'll do it ef all the eggs in the basket gits broke."
"Thank you Bill," said Tom. "Anyhow I'll see that you fellows get safely out of our camp or else I'll go with you with my rifle in my hand."
The men seemed satisfied. Seizing the bear they dragged it campwards as the daylight began to grow strong. Before Camp Venture was reached the sun was well above the horizon, and as they approached Tom gained some notion of what had happened there and of what the blaze of the night before had signified. But well outside the camp his mountaineers dropped the bear and bade Tom good bye.
Not a vestige of the house in which the boys had lived all winter remained. Only the smoke of a still smoldering fire marked the place where it had been.
CHAPTER XXXV
The End of Camp Venture
During the night of Tom's bear hunt, the boys slept soundly, wearied as they were by an especially hard day's work. About three o'clock a soldier from out under the bluff rushed in crying:
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Your chimney's on fire!"
Then came the Lieutenant with a squad of soldiers to remove the wounded men from the hut. This was a work of some difficulty although all the men were now "making satisfactory recovery" as the Doctor phrased it. The Doctor took charge at this point because he knew as no one else did the exact nature and condition of each man's wound, and it was his care to see that none should be improperly handled or in any way injured in the removal. Yet the house burned so rapidly that there was very little time for care and the excited soldiers had to be sharply restrained by the Lieutenant to make them comply with every direction of the Doctor in their handling of the wounded men.
Meantime the boys removed from the house everything of value, including even the "piano," which they would need every day for the sharpening of their axes.
What had happened was this: the upper part of the chimney, as the reader will remember, had been built of sticks, laid in a crib, and daubed all over with mud. The sticks were green, full of sap and almost incombustible when placed in position, and besides that the mud daubing protected them. But little by little the mud had dried and fallen away. While the heat of a fire that was maintained night and day for many months had seasoned the sticks first and then dried and parched them to the condition of tinder, capable of being ignited by the merest spark.
That night the spark did its work. The chimney sticks caught fire and burned with fierce violence. The clapboards forming the roof and the resinous pine timbers that held them in place, had also been roasted into an exceedingly combustible condition, and by the time that the fire was discovered the house was obviously doomed. That was the origin of the light that Tom had seen in the direction of Camp Venture while waiting for his bear.
When he now entered the camp he found the boys getting breakfast by an out door fire, built near the mouth of the chute.
"Poor old Camp Venture!" he exclaimed. "How did it happen boys?"
They hastily explained especially answering Tom's eager questions as to the condition of the wounded men.
"They are quite comfortable," said the Doctor. "All possible care was taken in removing them from the burning house, and my examination discovers no trace of damage done to any of them. But where have you been and what have you brought back with you?" for Tom had no game in possession.
"I've been to the home and headquarters of Ursa Major, and I've killed him," answered Tom. "I want to borrow the Lieutenant's glass to-night to see how the heavens look without the constellation of the Great Bear."
"What do you mean, Tom?" asked the boys eagerly.
"Why simply that I have killed the biggest black bear I ever saw or heard of in these mountains."
"Where is it?" eagerly asked Jack, who had a great longing for fresh meat for breakfast that morning.
"It's out there just beyond the picket lines, and some of you must go after it. You see the mountaineers who 'held me up' and then made friends with me, agreed to bring it to camp under my solemn promise of safe conduct. Bill Jones was at the head of them. But as they drew near the camp and saw the pickets, their courage failed them and even my invitation to come and breakfast with us, could not entice them within the picket lines.
"'We don't want to take no risks,' they said, 'an' you kin bring out some fellers to git the bar, so ef you don't mind, we'll leave it right here an' say good mornin'.' And with that they scurried off up the mountain."
Jack, Harry, Ed and Jim volunteered to go out after the bear, and with no little difficulty they at last got him to camp, where they proceeded to dress him. Tom, in the meantime, ate such breakfast as there was on hand, and, rolling himself in his blanket, stretched his tired limbs before the fire and fell at once into slumber. The other boys left him asleep when they went to their work, but considerably before noon he joined them with his axe.
That night a "council of war," as they called it, was held.
"Now that our house is burned up," said Jack, "we may as well begin to get ready for our descent of the mountain. Of course, we could sleep out of doors in this spring weather, but there is no use in doing it longer than we must. We sent the last two bridge timbers down the chute to-day. We have only twenty more ties to get ready and if we work hard we can do that to-morrow and next day. That will leave us nothing more to do except to work up the waste into cordwood and send it down. My calculation is that we can leave here one week from to-morrow morning if we are reasonably industrious. Tom's bear and the other game he'll get, will keep us in meat for that time, and if the Doctor can leave his patients a week hence, we'll go."
"Oh, as to that," said the Doctor, "I could leave them now. They need nothing now but nursing, and it won't be very long after we leave before the road will be open for the lieutenant to send them all down the mountain."
Thus with glad thoughts of a speedy homing, the boys rolled themselves in their blankets and stretched themselves out to sleep by the fire and under the stars.
"By the way, Tom," said Jim, just as Tom was sinking into slumber, "you forgot to look for that hole in the sky that you made last night."
"Well, you'd better make a hole in your talk pretty quick, Jim, if you don't want a bucket of water poured over you," said Jack. "Lie awake as long as you like, but keep quiet and let the rest of us sleep."
CHAPTER XXXVI
A Start Down the Mountain
Just a week later the boys were ready to quit Camp Venture and proceed down the mountain, or as Tom, quoting the mountaineers, put it, they prepared to "git down out'n the mountings."
They had fully accomplished their mission. They had done a great winter's work. They had sent down the mountain every tie they were permitted by their contract to furnish; they had sent down many noble bridge timbers and greatly more cordwood than they had expected to cut. Their work was done, except that before going home they must go to the headquarters of the railroad contractors, at the foot of the mountain, adjust their accounts and collect the money due them.
As the best mountain climber among them, the one who had met and overcome more mountain difficulties in his time than any other, and the one who best knew how to "look straight at things and use common sense," Tom was chosen to direct the perilous descent over the cliffs.
The boys were all heavily loaded, of course. Each had his axe, his blanket, his extra clothing and four days' rations to carry. Each also had his gun and there was one extra gun—the rifle that Tom had captured from the mountaineer—to be carried. "For," said Tom, "while we have no use for the gun, I've agreed to deliver it to its owner whenever he chooses to call for it at my mother's house, and I tell you, boys, a man's first obligation in this world is to keep every promise that he makes no matter what it costs. I'd take that fellow's rifle down the mountain if I had to leave my own behind in order to do it."
"You are right, Tom," said the Doctor, "and boys, I propose that we take charge of that gun and carry it turn and turn about for Tom, for he is otherwise the worst over-loaded fellow in the party."
For Tom had his skins to carry—the panther's hide, three big bear skins, several deer hides, and a large number of pelts from raccoons, opossums, hares, squirrels and other small game.
"In fact," said the Doctor, "I move that we throw Tom down, take away his load, and divide it equally among the entire party."
"That's it. That's the way to manage it!" cried the boys in chorus. But Tom would hear of nothing of the kind. "You fellows may help me with the mountaineer's rifle, if you choose, but I'll manage my bundle of skins for myself. Thank you, all the same. After all, our luggage isn't going to bother us half so much, going down the mountain this way as it would if we went down by the regular trail."
"Why not, Tom?" asked Jack.
"Well, I'll show you after awhile," said Tom. "And in the meantime, Doctor, I'm going to take all your delicate and expensive scientific instruments, and myself pack them so that they will endure the journey without injury. If carried as you have them, there wouldn't be one of them that wouldn't lie like a moonshiner by the time we 'git out'n the mountings.' Let me have them, please."
The Doctor, curious to see what the boy was going to do, turned his instruments over to him and carefully observed his proceedings. Tom began by selecting a number of the smaller skins, which, instead of drying, he had "tanned" with brains, corn meal-rubbing and other devices known to him as a hunter. These were as limp and soft as so many pieces of muslin, but greatly tougher. With them Tom carefully wrapped each instrument separately, securely tying up each with string, which the boy seemed always to have hidden somewhere about his person in unlimited quantity and variety of sizes and kinds.
"That's a trick I learned in hunting," he said, when questioned. "You can never have too much string with you."
Next he packed these bundles together, interposing dried and stiff hides between the several parcels, and again securely tied them together. Then he took the hide of his "Ursa Major," which was still "green" and limp, and which, as the boys suggested, "smelt uncommonly bad," and rolled the whole bundle in that, "skinny side out," binding it securely with stout twine. Finally he wrapped the stiff dried hide of the first bear he had killed, and the equally stiff panther's hide over all, as a sort of "goods box," he said, and, with a piece of red keel, he playfully marked on the panther's skin, "Glass! Handle with care."
"But now who is going to carry all this load?" asked Jack.
"Tom and I," said the Doctor, quickly. "The skins are Tom's and the instruments are mine. So we'll take some more of Tom's string and rig up some handles by which he and I can carry the bundle."
"You see," said Tom, "we may possibly have to drop it over a cliff now and then, and I've tried to do it up so as to stand that without breaking the instruments. But I think we can manage to avoid that. At any rate, we'll try. Now, come on, boys."
They had already taken leave of the lieutenant, and with four days' rations in their haversacks—for the lieutenant had supplied them with those military conveniences—haversacks—they began the descent of the mountain by that difficult way that Tom had followed on the night when he inspected the stills.
It was nine o'clock when they started. They made their way with comparative ease for nearly an hour. Then they came upon a bluff of formidable proportions and difficulty. Here Tom's experience and generalship came into play for the first time.
"All lay off your loads," he said. "Now, Harry, you are a discreet fellow and a good climber. Strip yourself of everything that can possibly embarrass you, and go down over the bluff. Remember what I have told you about bushes. Some of them cling tenaciously, while some of them give way in their roots at the first serious pull. Never trust one of them, but hold on by two always, and support yourself by your feet on every projection of rock you can find, so as not to overtax the bushes. When you are holding by two bushes, never let go of one to catch another lower down till you have satisfied yourself of the security of the other one by which you are holding on, and then grab the new one as quickly as you can. Make your way to the foot of the cliff, and we'll then let all our baggage and arms down to you with twine. You are to receive it all, untie the twine and let us pull it up again for the next bundle. When all our luggage is down, we'll climb down ourselves. There isn't any serious difficulty about it if we're careful. As I told you boys awhile ago, there isn't any such thing as accident. It is all a question of carefulness."
Harry did his part well in making the descent of this first precipice and the work of lowering the arms and luggage, including every boy's haversack—for it was imperative that in the bush climb down the cliff, no boy should carry a single ounce of unnecessary weight—occupied full two hours' time.
The Doctor was the last to go over the edge of the precipice, and he alone met with mishap. Jack, with his heavy weight, had preceded him, and the bushes, already weakened by the strain the other boys had given them, were some of them almost torn out by the roots from the rock crevices in which they grew. So when the Doctor was about half way down, one of them gave way suddenly, leaving the Doctor's right hand with no support and swinging him around in very perilous fashion. But the Doctor had by this time become a good deal of an athlete, and instantly realizing his danger, he swung himself around on his toes, which rested in a crevice of the cliff, and grasped with his right hand a sharp edge of rock which protruded some inches from the face of the cliff. It was a perilous hold, as the boys, looking on from below, clearly saw, and one that obviously could not be long maintained. But the Doctor had his wits about him, and after a moment's pause, he grasped another bush which held securely, and five minutes later he was on the ledge below.
Here it was decided to halt for the midday meal. A fire was built; the game which had been brought—or at least so much of it as was needed for this meal—was broiled upon live coals, and a pot of coffee was made—for of that sustaining article the original supply had not yet been quite exhausted.
CHAPTER XXXVII
Down the Mountain
By this time the boys were excessively tired. Climbing down over bluffs is weary work. So after dinner they stretched themselves out for a nap with their bundles under their heads in lieu of pillows.
An hour later they roused themselves and set out again upon their toilsome journey, carrying their packs as best they could, and scrambling through underbrush and over fragments of rock that had fallen from the cliffs and hills above and now seriously obstructed the passage.
At last they came to the shelving rock, mentioned in a preceding chapter. This was a perfectly bare stretch of rock, extending down the hill for nearly a quarter of a mile, at an angle which made walking upon it impracticable.
"Now, fellows," said Tom, "get your parcels together and slide them down the hill. The thick woods and bush tangle at the bottom of this rocky incline will bring them to a halt. Then I'll go down alone and find out if the way is practicable. If I get down in safety the rest of you can follow, doing precisely as you've seen me do."
"But, Tom, I protest," said the Doctor. "You mustn't take all the risk."
"Oh, you'll have risk enough for your own share," answered Tom, "after I've done the trick. It's only that I've done this sort of thing before, and can show you fellows how. In the meantime, send the parcels down."
Then one after another, the shoulder packs were started and went speedily down the rocky incline and into the woodlands at its foot. The guns, of course, were not risked in this fashion, but were securely strapped upon the shoulders of those who were to carry them.
When all the luggage had been sent down, Tom began his descent, calling to the others:
"Now watch me carefully, boys, and see just how I do it."
He went down, face to the ground, and feet first, sliding, with legs and arms spread out, to offer all possible resistance to gravity, and with his toes clinging close to the rock to catch every little inequality and thus check his speed. Now and then he would encounter an obstruction that brought him to a full stop. When that happened, he rested awhile, and then resumed his slide. It was hard work, accompanied by no little peril, and the boys did not breathe freely till Tom reached the bottom, stood up and waved his hat in token of his victory over the difficulty.
Then one by one—for Tom had forbidden any two of them to start down at the same time—they all made the descent in the same way, "without giving the Doctor a single job to do," said Tom, when all was over. But their clothing was very badly damaged in the descent, and the hands and knees of some of them were considerably torn.
They were now in a very thick woodland, crowning a gently declining hillside, and, after gathering their properties together, they marched forward for an hour, descended another bluff, and decided to encamp there for the night. The distance to the foot of the mountain was now comparatively small, but the surface was badly broken and precipitous, and as darkness was not far off, it was deemed better to wait until morning before completing the journey.
On the way through the woodlands, the Doctor had surprised and shot a turkey, and it must of course be roasted, so the first thing to do was to cut some wood and build a fire. For that a spot was selected just under a slate rock bank that formed a cliff near where they had decided to camp. The water which oozed out at the bottom of this slate rock bank on its western border, and formed a convenient pool there, did not prove to be good. It tasted of various minerals, iron and sulphur among them, and was distinctly unpalatable. Fortunately, Jim discovered a spring at a little distance, however, which was found to be good. Springs were everywhere on this steep face of the mountain, bearing to the surface the water from the snows that fell in the higher lands above, sank into the ground, and percolating through rock fissures, found its way to daylight again wherever a crack or seam in the rock permitted.
So the coffee pot was soon ready for the fire where the turkey was already roasting, and by the time that night fell, the supper of roast turkey, hot biscuit and steaming coffee, was ready, and the weary boys were looking rather eagerly forward to the time when the meal should be so far past as to permit them to lie down again to sleep.
As they ate they chatted, of course. The home-going had begun, and indeed its most serious difficulties had already been overcome. Their enthusiasm was again aroused and they again felt interest in whatever subject might come up for discussion. But first of all, they made Jack figure up their winter's earnings—exclusive, of course, of Tom's skins—and they were very well satisfied indeed with the results of his figuring. Their outfit in the autumn had cost them very little, and since then they had been at no expense whatever except that they owed the Doctor their several small shares of the money he had given to Bill Jones and of the two dollars he had advanced to Tom for the purchase of meal on the mountain; for, of course, they all insisted upon sharing that expense, and Tom had no reasonable ground for refusing.
An hour after supper all lay down to sleep, after replenishing the fire under the slate rock bank, for there was no danger from moonshiners down here so near the foot of the mountain.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
Old King Coal
It was nearly morning when the boys, wrapped in their blankets, began to stir uneasily and kick at their coverings. Every one of them was oppressed with heat, but for a time, weary as they were, they did not fully come to a consciousness of what it was that disturbed them.
After awhile Jim sat up, stripping off his blanket and giving vent to his feeling in the half word, half whistle, "Whew!" He looked about him for an instant, and then hastily jumping up, called to his half-awake companions:
"I say, fellows, wake up, quick. The slate rock bank is afire!"
It was true enough. As the boys shook off the cobwebs of their dreams, they discovered what it was that had been overheating them in their sleep. The whole bank under which they had built their fire was ablaze and throwing out an intense heat.
The Doctor was the first to grasp the situation.
"Drag the fire away from the bank as quickly as you can, boys!" he cried. "Fortunately the wood is nearly burned out."
That done, the cliff continued to blaze and sputter and the Doctor, who had seized authority and taken control of affairs, called for water.
"Bring it in your hats, boys, or anything else that will hold water, but bring it quick!"
The boys obeyed with alacrity, and when the water came, the Doctor made them cast it only upon the lower parts of the burning cliff.
"We get a double advantage that way," he explained. "We put out the source of the fire, which originates at the bottom, and the steam that rises from water thrown there helps to dampen the fire above."
But the burning had made such progress that it required quite two hours to put it out. When that was done, daylight having completely come, the boys addressed themselves to the work of getting breakfast, by a new fire kindled at some distance from the lately burning bank. The Doctor, meanwhile, was pottering around the bank, breaking off bits of the formation with his little geological hammer, and seriously burning his fingers in efforts to examine them critically.
Finally he seized his axe and with an entirely reckless disregard of its edge, he began chopping into the bank. Even when breakfast was announced, he would not quit his exploration for a time.
"The Doctor seems interested in that cliff," said one of the boys.
"Yes, and he's ruining the edge of his axe upon it," said another. "I suppose he has found something of geologic interest there."
Just then the Doctor quitted his work on the bank, removed his hunting shirt, tied it up by the neck and filled it full of the blocks he had chopped out of the bank. It held about half a bushel. Going to the fire, he emptied the mass upon it, and watched for results with eagerness. The slate rock, as the boys had called it,—burned slowly and gave out a good deal of heat.
Then the Doctor addressed himself to his breakfast, but he ate in silence. After he had done, he said to Tom—for he and Tom had become special cronies—"Tom, I wish you would take two of the boys with you this morning, go down to the railroad camps and buy four or five picks and four or five shovels."
"Certainly, Doctor," answered Tom. "But what is it you want with the picks and shovels?"
"I want to dig into that bank. I want to find out whether what I suspect is true or not."
"What is it you suspect, Doctor?" asked Jack eagerly.
"I suspect that that slate rock bank is the outcrop of one of the very richest coal mines in America. I may be wrong, but if you'll go down and get the picks and shovels, we'll soon find out."
"But why not all go down and bring back some miners with us?"
"Because we don't want any miners and especially we don't want anybody to 'jump our claim'—that is to say, to come here and claim a royalty on the plea that he first discovered the mine. Boys, I don't think we'll any of us get home as soon as we expected. This is something worth staying for, and fortunately we are now within easy reach of supplies."
"But we haven't any money with which to pay for them," said Harry.
"I'll take care of that," said the Doctor. "Do you happen to remember that the contractor who is to pay you boys for your ties and cordwood and bridge timbers, is named Latrobe?"
"Why, yes, certainly," said Tom. "But I never thought of that. Is he a relative of yours?"
"Only my father," answered the Doctor. "I don't think we shall have any difficulty in purchasing any supplies we need while guarding this 'slate rock' mine."
After further conversation it was arranged that the Doctor should send a note by Tom to the elder Latrobe, asking him to send up tools and food supplies. He wrote the letter on a leaf or two torn from his note book and delivered it into Tom's hands.
"Now, Tom," he said, "as you go down, suppose you study the ground carefully and see if you can't pick out a route by which you can bring a wagon up. If so, my father will load it with provisions and it will carry much more than many pack mules could. On the whole, I think you'd better go alone. I suggested taking two others with you, to help carry the tools, but you'll bring them in a wagon, or if you can't find a wagon path, you'll bring them on pack mules. But find a wagon track if you can. Take your time going down. You can't get back much before to-morrow night, anyhow, and it is important to secure a wagon way if possible."
"All right," said Tom. "But, Doctor, why do you think this is good coal? It looks to me like very poor stuff, and certainly it doesn't burn like good coal."
"O, that's because it is outcrop, and outcrop coal is always poor stuff. It has been so long exposed to the weather that it has lost most of its combustible constituents. Sometimes it will not burn at all. But I think this the outcrop of a very fine vein of coal, because from its location and from what I can discover of its formation by examining pieces of it, I think I know the 'measure,' as they call it, to which it belongs. If I am right in this, we have here a vein of the very best and purest coal in the world for making steam, for direct furnace uses and for making coke. But come, we have no leisure now for talking about coal or anything else. We want picks and provisions the first thing. So pack your haversack, Tom, and hie you away."
"I will on one condition," said Tom.
"What is that?" asked the Doctor.
"That you won't talk about Old King Coal to the other fellows till I get back," answered Tom. "I have at least ten thousand questions to ask, and I simply won't go for provisions if you're going to answer any of them while I am gone."
"I promise, Tom," answered the Doctor, laughing. "I won't even mention His Majesty King Coal, till you return and I'll scalp any boy in the party who asks me a question on that subject while you are away. Now, be off. Take plenty of time. We'll kill a little game now and then, and we have enough flour to last us till you get back. The important thing is for you to get a wagon load of supplies up here, and you must do it if it takes a week."
"I'll do it," answered Tom. "Good by, fellows!" and the boy started off down the hill.
CHAPTER XXXIX
The Doctor Sings
AS soon as Tom was gone, the Doctor turned to the others and said:
"Come, boys, we must get to work."
"What have we got to do?" asked Jack.
"Why build the new Camp Venture, to be sure. Don't you understand that we're to stay here perhaps for a month, and must protect ourselves against the spring rains? We must build a shelter before Tom gets back."
"But, Doctor," interrupted Harry, "why should we stay here for a month?"
"Why, don't you understand," said the Doctor, "that we have discovered, right here on your mother's land, a coal mine that will certainly make her comfortable all her life and probably make you boys rich. We've got to find out enough about it to enable us to exploit it, and that will take a month at least."
"But tell us about the coal," said Jack.
The Doctor replied by singing:
"Old King Coal
Was a jolly old soul,
And a jolly old soul was he;
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.
Every fiddler had a fine fiddle
And a very fine fiddle had he,
but," continued the Doctor, "not a man jack of them would tune up for Old King Coal till little Tom got back, because they had promised Tom not to set the fiddles going in his absence. That's a parable. It gives you fair warning that I'm going to keep my promise to our dearest comrade, Little Tom, and tell you nothing about this or any other coal till he comes back. But I tell you we shall have to stay here for a month at least, and that we need some sort of shelter against the heavy spring rains. So come, Jack, you are our architect. Tell us what sort of house to build."
Jack thought a few minutes, after which he said:
"We shan't need a house; at this time of year all we need is a shelter, closed in on three sides and open to the fire in front. We can build it of poles and cover it with a thatch of pine branches and other brush thick enough to shed the rain."
"But if we have only three sides to our house," said Jim, "how are we to keep the ends of the poles in place?"
"Oh, that's easy," said Jack. "We'll insert short bits of pole between them, with deep notches cut into them; and we needn't chink or daub at all. We ought to be able to build quite all the shelter we need, to-day and to-morrow, particularly as we are in a thick grove of young trees, just the size that we want for our poles. Get to work, every fellow of you, and cut poles with all your might."
Just then a thought occurred to Jack, and he took the Doctor aside for consultation.
"Doctor," he said, "It occurs to me that this coal mine, if it is a coal mine, is on my mother's land and that therefore it is worth my while and Harry's and Tom's to stay here and work up the possibilities of the case. It is also worth your while, because you are in fact the discoverer of it and my mother will naturally recognize your interest in it, especially as we shall look to you to find capitalists to work the thing."
"Oh, I'll do that, of course. If I'm right about the mine, I'll have no difficulty in finding plenty of capital. The mine is at exactly the right place, and as to my interest, I'll take care of that when I come to negotiate with the capitalists. I'll see to it that they allow me a proper commission for 'bringing the property to their attention,' as they phrase it. So don't bother about me."
"No, but I'm bothering about Ed and Jim. If they are to stay here and help us for a month or so, they must be paid in some way."
"Of course," answered the Doctor. "I've been so long thinking of our party as a unit, whose constituent members 'shared and shared alike,' that I had not thought of them as persons not interested in this new Camp Venture. Let me think a little!"
He bowed his head upon his hands for a time in meditation. Then he said:
"Of course your mother cannot work this mine herself. It will need at least a hundred thousand dollars of capital to make it productive—perhaps twice that sum. I know enough of the situation to know that I can arrange that without going out of my own family. My father and my brothers will put in the entire sum necessary—for I tell you there is a vastly valuable property here,—and will allow your mother her proper share of the stock for the mine itself. I'll arrange all that to her perfect satisfaction before anything is concluded. Indeed, I must do that. Otherwise she would naturally make somebody else her agent."
"Oh, she'll trust you, Doctor," interrupted Jack.
"It isn't a matter of trust, it's business," answered the Doctor. "But on purely business principles we shall be able to arrange for your mother to put in the property and my friends to put in the money capital. I shall not ask your mother for a cent, for she has been like a mother to me ever since I came down here for my health and began boarding with her. My own people will allow me out of their share, a sufficient interest to compensate me. Now, I undertake also that they or I shall allow to Ed and Jim, half a share each in the mine, supposing it to be capitalized at a hundred thousand dollars, in return for their services while we have to stay here."
"No, Doctor," said Jack, "I will not hear of that. If you'll furnish one-half share, I engage that my mother shall furnish the other. That will divide the thing equally."
The Doctor, seeing the entire justice of this arrangement, assented to it, and the two called Jim and Ed into the conference. When they laid the proposition before the pair, it was joyfully accepted. Ed said:
"Even without that, we shouldn't have left the camp. We fellows have had so good a time together that I, for one, would have stayed and done my share of the work, with or without a financial interest in it."
"So should I," said Jim, enthusiastically. "Now that we are to be capitalists and stockholders and all that sort of thing, it will require all our self restraint not to grow cocky and refuse to work. Still there are a lot of poles to cut for the new shelter, and if you two fellows are going to stay here all day and talk, the rest of us must work all the harder."
"We're going to work at once, Jim," said the Doctor. "But I want you to understand that in my judgment this mine is going to be a great property, and that your share in it will go far to make you prosperous men."
Then Ed broke down. He had lived a hard life, trying to aid his widowed mother by such work as he could do, and this prospect opened to him, of a little income independent of his work, overcame him with emotion as he thought of the good mother released perhaps from the necessity of hard toil for the rest of her life. The simple fact is that as Ed turned away to hide his emotion, the tears rolled down his cheeks. But if he sobbed, it was not until he had gone down the hill well beyond the ledge of broken stones that marked the boundary of the camp.
When night came, the eager boys began again to question the Doctor about coal and coal mines. To every question, he replied by singing "Old King Coal," and declaring anew his resolute purpose not to talk at all on that subject till little Tom's return. But the Doctor was jubilant all the same, and he said presently, "His Majesty King Coal is a very generous monarch and he is going to make all of us well to do if not actually rich." Then he broke out again into the song:
"Old King Coal
Was a jolly old soul,
And a jolly old soul was he;
He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three."
CHAPTER XL
Tom's Journey
Tom had not gone far on his journey before he discovered that the new Camp Venture was in fact situated very nearly at the base of the mountain. The headquarters of the railroad people lay a mile or so to the west, and perhaps two hundred feet or so lower. But along the foot of the hill was accumulated all the debris that had come tumbling down the steep for ages—great and small fragments of rock split off the cliffs above by the frosts of a multitude of winters and now piled haphazard wherever they could find a resting place.
In the midst of such a mass of rocky debris, now thickly overgrown with forest trees, Tom at first despaired of finding a practicable wagon path. But he toiled diligently at the task, retracing his steps many times and little by little tracing out a way, which he marked as he went by cutting branches of trees and setting them up as landmarks to show him the way when he should return with a wagon load of supplies.
All this occupied so much time that Tom did not reach his destination that night, but slept by a little fire on the mountain side.
In the morning there was a drenching, discouraging spring rain falling with pitiless persistence, and Tom's clothing and blanket were soaked through, and his limbs were stiff with cold. Fortunately his fire had not been entirely extinguished by the rain, and when he had replenished it with seasoned branches, and steamed himself in its glow for a time, his energy returned, and he cooked and ate a scant but refreshing breakfast which included the two drumsticks of the Doctor's turkey. These had been roasted the night before, but Tom threw them on the coals to broil a little. "I prefer a hot breakfast," he said, "particularly on a morning like this. How I wish I had a cup of coffee!"
Then gathering up the few things that he carried, he left his camp fire and continued his task of picking out a way by which a wagon might be dragged up and along the rocky hill. It was high noon when he reached the little railroad station where Dr. Latrobe's father had established his headquarters as a contractor. Tom was enthusiastically received by that gentleman, who was naturally pleased to hear news of his son's thoroughly restored health. There was a little tavern already established near the station and there Tom was made to dry and warm himself. Having assured Mr. Latrobe that he could conduct a loaded wagon up the hill to the new Camp Venture, Tom speedily left his occupation of warming himself and joined the older gentleman in choosing the materials that were to constitute the load. Mr. Latrobe had assigned for the purpose a heavy, stoutly built wagon, capable of enduring rough road service, and to Tom he said: "I've sent a little way down the line for four of the stoutest mules we have, to draw it, and for a driver who is used to mountain work. They will be here this evening and in the meantime we'll get the wagon loaded, so that you can make an early start in the morning." This suited Tom's plans exactly, and he set himself at work at once selecting from the contractor's stores, the things most desirable for his purpose.
There were ten large sides of bacon; half a barrel of sugar; half a barrel of molasses; half a barrel of corned beef; several hundred pounds of corn meal and a like quantity of flour in bags; a bushel or two of salt, and a good supply of potatoes, turnips, cabbages, canned vegetables and fruits with which to break the long monotony of the camp diet. Mr. Latrobe insisted upon adding some prunes, dried peaches, dried apples, and some other things that he thought the boys would enjoy. Finally a large box of coffee already ground and put up in damp-proof packages, was placed in the wagon, together with ten pounds of tea.
"You see I've done a great deal of camping, my boy," said the genial gentleman, "and I know how much of comfort there is in tea and coffee when you're rain soaked."
All these things were packed into the wagon by some of Mr. Latrobe's men, and securely lashed into immovability with stout hemp ropes. Over them a tarpaulin was spread to protect them from the rain and on top of that the picks and shovels were lashed into place.
The wagon was ready and that night Tom slept in a real bed for the first time in nearly half a year. But he was up at daybreak and off on his journey before the sun's appointed time for rising. Whether or not that luminary left his couch when he should, Tom had no means of finding out, for it was still heavily raining.
It was a toilsome journey that lay before him and Tom foresaw that it could not be accomplished much before nightfall, even should no delaying mishap occur, and therefore he disregarded the rain and insisted upon the earliest possible start.
It was Tom's function to walk ahead of the wagon, look out for the landmarks he had set up, and point the way to the driver who, armed with a long black snake whip, rode upon the "near," or left hand, wheel mule. But the driver was his own sufficient adviser as to how to overcome such obstacles as were met, and Tom was greatly interested to observe the skill and good judgment with which the man did this.
"There is science," he said, "in everything, even in driving a wagon over a rough mountain where there is no road."
But Tom got no response from the driver, who seemed a taciturn fellow, and who in fact never once spoke during the journey except to scold his mules with shocking profanity. Even when he decided to halt about noon to feed the animals, he said not one word to Tom, but simply stopped the wagon, unhitched the mules and gave them their food, hitching them up again when he thought it proper to do so and resuming his journey.
"Obviously," thought Tom, "that fellow has been used to driving alone. I wonder if he has forgotten how to talk? Or is it that he never thinks? Even the weather doesn't inspire him to make a remark, for he hasn't once asked my attention to the fact that the rain has ceased and that the sun is breaking through the clouds. He certainly can't be classified as a companionable personage, but at any rate he knows how to manage mules and get a wagon over difficulties, and after all that's what he is employed to do. He gets on wonderfully, too, considering the difficulties of the road. I suppose it is like the case of the man who tied his cravats so beautifully because, as he said, he 'gave his whole mind to it.'"
So, silently they proceeded on their way and just before sunset the wagon was stopped on the outskirts of the new Camp Venture.
The boys all rushed out to greet Tom and compliment him on his skill and success in bringing the supplies over so difficult a route. Tom greeted them all in turn, and then said:
"Try your hands, boys, and see if any of you can extract a single unnecessary word from that driver. I haven't been able to get anything out of him except vituperation for his mules."
The driver meanwhile was stripping his mules of their harness and arranging to give them the oats and fodder that he had brought with him for their use.
The Doctor filled a tin cup with coffee—for the boys had heard Tom coming and made supper ready against his arrival—and carried the steaming liquid out to the driver whose clothes were still sopping wet, and offered it to him, saying:
"You are very wet and it must have been a hard struggle to get your wagon up here. Drink this to warm you and when you get your mules fed, come to our fire and have some supper. You must be hungry."
The man took the cup, drank its contents, handed it back to the Doctor and muttered the single abbreviated word, "'Bleeged," by which the Doctor understood that he meant, "I am obliged to you."
Finally the man having disposed of his mules for the night, came to the camp fire for his supper. He received it in silence and proceeded to devour it like the hungry man that he was. Still he uttered not a word. At last Jim Chenowith tried his hand at drawing him into conversation.
"It must have been pretty tough work to get a wagon up here," he said, tentatively. The man said not a word in reply. This exasperated Jim and presently he stood up before the wagoner and angrily demanded:
"What's the matter with you? Why don't you answer a civil question?"
To this the man answered, "Hey?" at the same time putting his hand to his ear in a futile effort to understand.
"The man is almost stone deaf," said the Doctor. "That is the explanation of his silence."
Tom laughed at himself for not having made this discovery, and then crept into the bunk prepared for him in the new camp house.
CHAPTER XLI
"His Majesty, the King"
The Doctor was an advocate of leisurely eating, but he impatiently hurried the boys through their breakfast the next morning and set them at work upon the bank with picks and shovels. He explained to them as he had before explained to Tom, that "outcrop" coal—that is to say, the edge of a coal seam exposed by any circumstance and left long exposed, deteriorates in quality and value.
"All the combustible parts of this exposed coal have been evaporated," he said, "until now the stuff is worth scarcely more than so much shale. But unless my knowledge of geology fails me, there lies behind this stuff, some of the very richest coal in Virginia. Our task is to dig in here and find out whether we have here a valuable coal mine or nothing at all."
"Suppose it is the kind of coal you think, Doctor," said Jack, "what is such a mine worth?"
"Nothing and everything. It all depends upon circumstances. A year or two ago the finest coal deposit in the world, located where this is would have been worth no more than the detritus from the hill that is piled up all around here. Such a mine at this place now, is incalculably valuable."
"But what makes so vast a difference?" asked Ed.
"The railroad," answered the Doctor. "A year ago this coal would have been worthless, simply because there was no market for it anywhere within reach. Now the railroad brings the market to the mouth of the mine, as it were. But come, let's get to work. If you want me to talk about King Coal, I'll do it to-night after supper. Just now we must dig for his majesty." Then he grabbed a pick and broke out again singing—
"Old King Coal
Was a jolly old soul," etc.
The boys dug with a will and by nightfall they had dug away three or four feet of the face of the cliff. Every now and then the Doctor would take a bit of the exposed coal and examine it critically under a strong magnifying glass. Every time he did so, he broke out again into the song about "Old King Coal." The boys had never seen him so jubilant.
When they quitted the work and began to prepare supper, the Doctor went into the shaft they had started, broke out a bushel or two of the deepest coal yet reached, and placed it on the fire. He watched it intently as it burned, and just as supper was ready he said:
"We've got it, boys, and no mistake. This is a great mine of the very best coal in the world for making gas, steam and coke, and as these hills are full of iron ore, the mine is precisely where it ought to be. When we dig a little further into that bank we shall come to coal that can be shovelled into a furnace with iron ore on top of it, and used to smelt iron without the trouble or expense of coking. Or we can make as good coke of it as there is in the world, and the vein is eight or nine feet thick, which means a lot, and it has a perfect rock roof, which means a lot more, and the volcanic upheaval which shoved it up here has kindly so placed it that it trends upward, so that in mining it we shall not have to do any pumping. All we've got to do is to dig trenches on each side of our coal car tracks and let the water run out by force of gravitation. I tell you boys, we've discovered the most valuable coal mine in all this region, and as if to make matters still better, it lies just high enough up the mountain to enable us to chute its product down to the railroad without any expense whatever for hauling."
"Well now," said Jack, "all that is good news. But we boys don't understand the thing the least bit. So you are to explain it to us after supper. You are to stop singing 'Old King Coal' and explain to us upon what grounds his majesty's authority rests."
"All right," said the Doctor, with truly boyish enthusiasm. "After supper I'll tell you all about my liege lord Old King Coal. Meantime won't somebody give me another cup of coffee and about a dozen more rashers of that paper-thin bacon? I'm hungry."
Jack replenished the Doctor's cup, and Ed cut for him a dozen or twenty very thin slices of bacon, leaving him to broil them for himself on the end of a stick and devour them as fast as they were broiled. Tom divided a pone of corn bread with him and the supper proceeded to its conclusion.
"Now then," called Tom, when the tin plates and tin cups had been washed and set up on the wall shelf which the Doctor had made for them, "we're ready to hear all about 'Old King Coal' and his claims upon our allegiance."
"Oh, no you're not," said the Doctor. "It would take me weeks to tell you the little I know on that subject and something like a lifetime for anybody who knows more to tell you 'all about' King Coal. But I'll tell you a little any how."
"First of all tell us why you call it 'King Coal,'" said Ed.
"Because in our age it is king," quickly answered the Doctor. "Without it every one of our industries would come to an end; every factory would stop; every steamship would be laid up forever; every electric light would go out; every railroad would become 'two streaks of rust and a right of way'; in short the whole fabric of modern civilization would tumble to the ground. You see every age has its key note. When men had no better implements than rough stones those people who had most stones were the easy conquerors of the rest. When they began to fashion stones into arrowheads, axes and the like, the people who lived in stony countries had a still greater advantage. When men learned to work metals—well you see the way it went. In the pastoral ages the man whose land produced most grass was the 'king pin' of his community and owned more cattle than anybody else. In the military ages the people who fought best were the supreme ones, and the rest were their dependants. In ecclesiastical ages the great prelates dominated, and so on through a long catalogue. Now ours is an industrial age and coal lies at the very root of productive industry. Without it we can't make steam or get power enough for any of the vast enterprises of modern civilization. It smelts iron out of rocks that would not give it up without King Coal's command. It enables us to make steel and to fashion metals to answer our requirements in a thousand ways. It runs our steamships, our factories, our railroads and pretty much everything else that we depend upon to make life easy, to enable us to interchange our products with people at a distance and generally to make ourselves comfortable. In short our whole civilization depends upon coal. That's why I call coal 'king.' If there ever was a monarch in this world whose authority could not be questioned without destruction to those revolting against it, that monarch is 'Old King Coal.'"
"But if we had no coal, why couldn't we do all these things with wood?" asked Jim.
"First, because we haven't enough wood," answered the Doctor. "We are using up our supply of wood much too rapidly already, and there coal is rendering us another important service. It is enabling us to use iron and steel for building materials, and a thousand other purposes for which we once used wood, and thus to spare our wood."
"What is your 'secondly,' Doctor?" asked Ed.
"Why secondly, wood cannot do the work."
"Why not?"
"Because it hasn't enough sunshine in it."
"How do you mean?"
"Why you know, don't you, that all the heat we get out of burning fuel of any kind, is simply so much sunshine stored up for us and released by burning?"
"I confess I didn't know that," said Tom. "Or at any rate I never thought of it. Now that I do think of it, I see how it is with wood. But what has sunshine to do with coal, buried as it is deep under rocks and earth?"
"Then you don't know what coal is, and where it comes from?" asked the Doctor. "Let me explain. There was a period in the world's remote history when the earth was much warmer than it is now—almost hot in fact. The atmosphere was filled with the gases of carbon, and the rains were an almost continuous cataclysm. Human life was impossible in these conditions. No man could have breathed such an atmosphere and lived. But the conditions were peculiarly favorable to abundant vegetable life. There were forests such as we do not dream of now even in tropical swamps. Ferns grew to the height of great trees, vines and cane and grass and air plants filled up every available inch of space, and they all grew in that carbonized atmosphere with a rapidity and luxuriance quite impossible now. All this vegetation died of course and fell to the ground as all vegetation does and has done from the beginning of time. Wherever it fell into water and was thus shielded from the air, and wherever it managed to get itself covered with earth or rock, as in that highly disturbed volcanic age often happened, it was converted into coal by pressure and by losing certain of its volatile elements, just as charcoal is made by expelling the volatile parts from wood. So, without going any further into details, you see that the coal is preserved vegetation which grew many thousands of years ago, and that the heat we get from it is simply the sunshine it stored up at a period before ever human life existed. What a pity it is that we have to waste so much of it!"
"How do you mean, Doctor?" asked Jack.
"Why you see we waste almost all the heat that coal gives us. If we could make effective use of it all, the burning of a single pound of coal would give us force enough to lift more than eleven and a half millions of pounds a foot from the earth; but the most that we actually get out of it is force enough to lift one and a half million pounds."
"What? All that from one pound of coal?" asked Jim.
"Yes, all that, and it all means so much sunshine which fell upon the earth thousands of years ago. Curious, isn't it?"
"It's simply astounding," said Jack. "But why do we burn coal so wastefully, Doctor? Why can't we utilize more of its heat? And what becomes of the waste heat?"
"Our methods are imperfect," answered the Doctor. "In a big manufacturing city thousands of tons of coal, or what is essentially the same thing, go off into the air every day in the shape of black smoke. You see the blackness of smoke is nothing but pure carbon or in other words coal. Then again think of the heat that goes up every smoke stack and is wasted in the air. It would run hundreds of great engines if it could be turned to account. And there is all the heat that makes an engine room so horribly torrid. Every bit of that is wasted power. Little by little, however, we are learning to save the power that coal gives us. A high pressure engine, like an ordinary locomotive, besides wasting coal, wastes greatly more than half the expansive force of its steam. It uses the steam only once and that very imperfectly, and then lets it escape into the open air and go to waste. But the big steamships and many factories have what they call triple or quadruple expansion engines which use the same steam three or four times in propelling the machinery, and then condense it into hot water and send it back into the boiler, thus saving a vast deal of the heat that would otherwise be wasted. Still even they waste most of the heat that their coal produces."
"By the way, Doctor," interrupted Tom, "how much coal does it take to drive one of the big steamers across the Atlantic?"
"From fifteen hundred to three thousand tons," answered the Doctor, "and think what a waste that is when a few hundred tons give force enough to do the work if only the force developed could all be used."
"But how do they manage to carry any freight when they must carry such an enormous load of coal?" asked Ed.
"That is another serious waste," answered the Doctor. "For every ton of coal carried means one ton less of freight. And then, too, think of the expense incurred in putting all that coal aboard. And think too of the cost of feeding and paying wages to a large company of men to handle it after it is on board! For you know besides the stokers who shovel the coal into the furnaces, there are the 'coal trimmers' as they are called, whose duty it is to keep the coal heap properly distributed in the ship. You see a ship is not stiff and rigid like a coal pocket. It would never do to begin at one end of a coal heap and use it as it comes. That would presently leave one part of the ship with no coal load at all, while thousands of tons would burden other parts. No ship that ever was built could stand that. It would twist her out of shape, warp her seams open and send her to Davy Jones in a very little time. So from the moment the stokers begin to shovel coal into the furnaces under a steamship's boilers the coal trimmers and coal carriers must busy themselves with the night and day work of so shifting the coal as to keep its weight properly distributed. But now to come back to what I was saying. Little by little we are learning to save some small part of the enormous waste in the burning of coal. One example will illustrate. In smelting iron—that is melting it out of the ore and separating it from the rock stuff,—the waste twenty-five years ago was simply appalling. The furnaces were mere pots built of fire clay brick, and filled with coal or coke beneath and iron ore on top. A blast of steam or hot air was sent into them from below to make the fire burn as hotly as possible. Sometimes this blast was strong enough to blow bushels of unburned coal or coke out at the top. That however was a mere trifle as compared with the other waste. For great flames, nearly hot enough to melt iron, poured out of every furnace top and were lost in the air. Every bit of that heat represented power that was literally cast to the winds. All that has been greatly improved since. The flames and heat that escape from the blast furnaces are now very generally harnessed and made to do further work. They are used to heat great steam boilers and thus create the power that operates rolling mills and gigantic forges, and vast machine shops. But we still waste very much more than half the heat that coal gives us—often more than nine-tenths of it."
"But, Doctor," said Tom, "If we go on wasting our coal at such a rate, won't we use it all up presently? And will not civilization have to stop then?"
"There are three answers to that," replied the Doctor: "1st. That we shall more and more learn to economize in this matter of heat wasting;
"2nd. That our coal supply in this country seems to be sufficient to last for millions of years yet; and
"3rd. That long before it is exhausted the ingenuity of man will probably discover means of securing power from some other source than coal."
"What, for example?"
"Well, perhaps we shall learn how to utilize terrestrial magnetism directly. You know this earth of ours is a gigantic magnet, and magnetism is the raw material of electricity, if I may so express it. At present we get all the electricity we use out of the earth, but we have to do it by burning coal to run dynamos. Perhaps we shall find ways to save that expense by drawing the electricity directly from the earth. We have already done something closely resembling that, with the result of a great saving."
"How was that?"
"Why when the telegraph was first invented it was necessary to double the wire lines, putting up two wires every time by way of completing the circuit. You know electrical energy will not manifest itself, or as we say, the electric current will not flow, unless there is a circuit established. Well at first they established the circuit by running two parallel wires, one to carry the current one way and the other to bring it back. That's a clumsy way to put it, but it will answer my purpose in explanation. After a while somebody found out that the earth is a better conductor of electricity than any wire could be, and so the circuit was established simply by running each end of a single wire into the ground, making the earth do the work formerly done by the other wire. That simple discovery saved exactly one half the expense of telegraph companies for wires."
By this time it was growing late and as the boys had a hard morrow's work before them the Doctor ceased talking and all went to their bunks.
CHAPTER XLII
In the Service of the King
Very early the next morning the boys, who had caught the Doctor's enthusiasm, began again their task of digging through the "out crop" coal, which began now to grow softer and more workable, while the coal itself grew steadily better in quality.
But about noon, when they had pushed their little shaft about a dozen feet into the hill, the Doctor ordered a cessation of the digging.
"We must put in some supports for our roof," he said, "or we shall presently be caught in a cave in."
"How are we to do it?" asked Jack.
"Well, I am not a mining engineer," answered the Doctor, "but I've seen enough of the work to know how to protect a little shaft like this, anyhow. The engineers, when they come, will of course tear out all that we do, because they must drive a big shaft into the hill, while all we want to do is to push a little gallery three or four feet wide far enough in to find the best of the coal. But even in doing that we must securely support the roof of our mine. So we'll cut some timber and put it in place. Jack, I wish you would choose the trees to be cut."
"All right!" said Jack. "What dimensions are required?"
"First of all," answered the Doctor, "we want from six to ten pieces of oak, say four feet six inches long and fully twelve inches in diameter. They will serve for roof timbers, and will be enough to carry us thirty or forty feet further. Then for perpendicular supports—one at each end of each timber—we shall need just twice as many perfectly straight oaken sticks eight or nine inches in diameter."
"But why do you want big sticks to go crossways and comparatively little ones for the perpendicular supports?" asked Ed. "The perpendicular timbers must after all bear the weight."
"Oh, that's simple enough," said Tom, whose perceptive faculties were always alert. "You see a stick set up on end, if it is perfectly straight and set true, will bear vastly more weight than a stick of twice or three times its thickness, if laid crossways. In fact a straight eight-inch stick nine feet long, if set on end will support nearly as much as another stick nine feet thick—if there were any sticks that thick—laid lengthwise."
"That's it," said the Doctor. "We want heavy timbers across the top, supported by stout eight- or nine-inch sticks set endwise under them. Now, Jack, select the best trees and we'll all get to work as soon as dinner is over. We'll get the dinner ready while you choose the timber to be cut."
The cutting of the timber was a small task to expert young wood choppers; but it was a very difficult task for the six boys to bring the timbers to the mine and set them in place. True, only two frames had to be set up for the present, but the cross pieces, short as they were, were enormously heavy, and it required all the ingenuity as well as all the strength the boys could command, to get these two frames up, each consisting of one cross piece under the roof and two uprights supporting it.
When night came only one of the two frames was in place, and it was obvious, as Jack said, that "another half day must be wasted on such work" before they could begin mining again. But that evening the Doctor dug two bushels of coal out of the farthest end of the shaft, built a special fire, placed the coal on it, and carefully covered it with earth.
"What are you doing, Doctor?" asked his crony, Tom.
"I'm making a coke oven, Tom," he replied. "I want to see how our coal will coke."
"But I don't understand about coke," answered Tom. "Why is it that when you burn most of the substance out of coal it will make a hotter fire than with all its combustible materials in it?"
"That isn't quite the case, Tom," answered the Doctor. "What we do in making coke is chiefly to expel the gas from the coal and to roast out the sulphur, which seriously interferes with the making of sufficient heat to smelt iron. Some coal gets burnt up in the process; some makes an indifferent and nearly worthless coke; while some makes a coke that would melt the heart of a miser. Now, as I told you the other night, I am convinced as a geologist, that a little further in our mine we shall come to coal so free from sulphur that we can smelt iron with it without making coke of it at all. But it is always preferable to make coke of it, and so I'm trying to see what sort of coke our coal will make. Of course we haven't come to the real coal yet, but I can tell a good deal by what we have now. We'll let my little coke oven roast all night and in the morning I'll know a great deal more than I do now. But if you have any question in your mind as to the gas making capacity of this coal, I'll remove it at once."
With that he went to the camp fire, seized a blazing brand and applied it to the little mound of earth under which he had buried his coal. Instantly the whole outside of the mound was aflame.
"That's the gas," said the Doctor. "You see there's plenty of it, even in the imperfect coal that we've reached. It will burn out presently and meantime its heat will help roast my coal into coke."
After supper the boys again plied the Doctor with questions concerning coal. Tom began it by saying:
"You told us the other evening, Doctor, that the value of a bed of coal depends upon many things besides its location and its accessibility to market. What are those things?"
"Thickness, for one thing," answered the Doctor, "and that is a point in which our mine excels. You see coal seams are of every thickness, from that of a knife blade to beds 100 feet through. Those last are very rare, however. In this country the seams vary from knife blade thickness to about nine or ten feet. Now, in working a coal mine the men, of course, must have room to stand up in the shaft, so that wherever the vein is less than six feet thick a good deal of rock or earth must be removed so as to give sufficient height to the mine. It costs as much to remove the rock or earth as to handle a like amount of coal, and the stuff is worthless. So you see it is greatly more profitable to work a thick than a thin vein. Indeed there are very few veins under three or four feet thick that it pays to work at all. Our deposit here appears to be about nine feet thick, and that means much to us.
"Another condition of value in a coal mine is a good roof. There are many rich veins of coal that have only earth or soft shale above them, and they are practically worthless because they are unworkable. We fortunately have a superb rock roof over our mine."
"But, Doctor," said Tom, "you told us the other night that coal is at the basis of modern industrial civilization. Then I suppose that those nations which have coal must be the foremost ones in industry and consequently in civilization."
"Certainly they are," said the Doctor, as the other boys gathered about to hear the talk; "and they will be more and more so as time goes on. England has more coal than any other country in Europe and so England is by all odds the foremost industrial nation in Europe, though other nations there have the advantage of buying English coal in an open market. Ever since our modern age of industry and machinery set in—that is to say ever since Old King Coal came to his throne—England has grown greater and richer, till now she is by all odds the richest country in Europe."
"Haven't the other countries there any coal?" asked Ed.
"Yes, but comparatively little. Let me see if I can remember the figures approximately. Great Britain's coal fields cover nearly 12,000 square miles; France has only 2,000 square miles, Prussia about the same, Belgium has only 500 square miles, Austria less than 2,000; Italy none at all to speak of, and as for Spain, the Spanish indolence, which puts off everything till 'to-morrow' has prevented that country from even finding out what coal she has. Russia has vast fields and bids fair to take her place ultimately among the great coal producing and industrial nations of the earth. But as yet her coal fields are imperfectly developed and her coal production is only about one-thirty-fifth as great as that of Great Britain."
"What about the United States, Doctor?" asked Tom, who was an aggressive patriot.
"Well, we have many times more coal than all Europe combined," answered the Doctor. "Great Britain's 12,000 square miles of coal lands sink into insignificance in comparison with our 214,000 square miles of measured coal fields, our 200,000 or 300,000 square miles in the Rocky Mountain states, and our totally unguessed-at coal fields in Oregon and Washington. As four or five hundred thousand and probably more, is to twelve thousand, so is our known coal area to that which has made Great Britain the greatest industrial nation on earth next to our own. And some of the British mines are pretty nearly worked out, while we have scarcely scratched the surface of ours."
"Then this is likely to become the greatest industrial nation on earth?" said Jack.
"It is already that," answered the Doctor. "We are selling our manufactured goods—even iron and steel products—in England to-day, almost as freely as we are selling our grain and our meat. I tell you, boys, there is nothing in this world that can happen to a man that is so good as being born an American citizen."
"Amen!" said Tom. "To employ the dialect of my friends among the mountaineers, 'them's my sentiments every time all over and clear through.'"
"All right," said Jack, "now let's get to bed."
"I suppose there's a lot more you could tell us about coal, Doctor," said Jim, "if there was time."
"Of course there is," the Doctor responded; "but you'll learn it all practically. For we've a great mine here, and you boys will have first choice of places in its management."
With that they all went to bed.
CHAPTER XLIII
The Camp Venture Mining Company
The next morning the Doctor "drew" his coke oven, which was quite cool by that time. He minutely examined the coke and called Tom to look at it. "You see," he said, "how perfectly it is fused. You see how free it is from any sort of admixture of sand or anything else. I tell you, Tom, we've got a great mine here, and it is going to make all of us comfortable for the rest of our lives. Your good mother is especially to be congratulated. This find will make her not only independent, but really rich. Now I want you to understand me, Tom. If your mother prefers to have anybody else manage this affair for her, I will instantly withdraw. At present I have no interest whatever here, and I can have none except by her consent. This mine is absolutely hers, to do with as she pleases. I want to serve her in the matter, by finding among my friends the capitalists who can make the thing 'go.' If she prefers to put the matter into other hands, I hope, Tom, you'll urge her to do so."
Tom arose, took the Doctor's hand, pressed it warmly, and said simply:
"I'm not quite an idiot, Doctor. Go on with your plans."
Somehow, although Jack was Tom's elder brother, the Doctor and indeed the whole company had learned to think of Tom as essentially the head of his family. Curiously enough his mother and the other boys themselves had learned to regard Tom in precisely the same way.
"But Doctor," said Tom, eager to divert the conversation, "why were you in such a hurry to put out the fire here that night when we first discovered the coal? Would it have burned any considerable way into the vein?"
"I can best answer you, Tom, by telling you that about fifteen or twenty miles back of Mauch Chunk, in Pennsylvania, there is a bed of coal that has been burning for about half a century. Everything that human ingenuity could do to put it out has been done, but all to no avail. The whole mountain is slowly burning away, and when one walks about on the crust he is liable at any moment to have a foot sink into the fire below. So you see why I didn't want our mine to begin its career by getting afire."
The next thing on the day's program was work upon the second truss for supporting the mine roof, and this was got into place before midday, so that the afternoon was given to vigorous digging into the coal bank. About five o'clock the Doctor called out:
"You needn't dig any further, boys, we've got it safe enough!" Then he began singing "Old King Coal," as he hugged some specimens of the coal he had dug out of the extreme end of their little shaft to his bosom.
"Got what?" asked Tom, who watched the Doctor's antics with eager interest.
"Why, we've got what we've been looking for, coal equal to the very best that was ever mined in Virginia or West Virginia. I was sure I could not be mistaken. Now I know." And with that the Doctor danced and sang again.
"Now," he said, "you boys come here. I want to talk with you. I'm going down to the station to-morrow to see my father. I propose, if you approve the plan, to have him come up here to inspect our find. Then I'm going to get him and my brothers and their financial associates to make a plan for capitalizing and working the mine. When their plan is made, you, Tom, and I will go to your mother and see what she thinks of it. You see the mine belongs to her absolutely, and any interest that any of the rest of us get in it we must buy from her. But, by way of preparing for such a purchase, I'm going down to the contractor's camp to-morrow, to get my father to come up here with a mining expert and an engineer, to look at the property and make up their minds about it."
The suggestion was welcomed by the three boys concerned, and so the Doctor made his preparations for an early departure in the morning.
The distance was not over two or three miles, and, as the Doctor had no wagon road to look out for, it took him less than an hour and a half to reach his father's headquarters. Early in the afternoon a cavalcade reached the camp. It consisted of the Doctor, his father, one of his brothers, a mining expert and two engineers.
They went at once to work to inspect the mine and its roof and every thing else connected with it or in any way affecting its practical working. Finally they made their reports quietly to the elder Latrobe, and that gentleman bade them mount their mules and return to the contractor's camp.
Then he asked the Doctor to bring the Ridsdale boys into conference with him. Seated on a log, he explained the situation thus:
"Your mother has a very valuable coal mine here, in a most favorable locality. It will need capital, of course, for its development, and that I am prepared to furnish, as the representative of myself, my sons, and my other financial associates. My proposal is this: that we capitalize the mine at $400,000; that is to say, that we organize a company with that amount of stock; that your mother shall put in the mine as $200,000, and receive stock to that amount; that I and my associates—I will take care of that—shall put in $200,000 in cash and take the remaining stock in payment for our contribution."
"I don't see," said Tom, "but that your proposal is a just and generous one. As I understand it, my mother is to put the mine into the company, as $200,000 capital, and you gentlemen are to put in $200,000 in money to be used as working capital, in operating the mine; my mother is to own one half the shares and you gentlemen the other half."
"That is quite correct," said the elder Latrobe.
"Then I am perfectly satisfied," answered Tom. "What do you say, Jack? What's your view, Harry?"
The two other boys had no objection to offer. Indeed the easy rolling of large figures as sweet morsels under the tongues of the financiers completely appalled them, and so the whole matter was left to Tom to settle.
That evening he went down the mountain with the elder Latrobe, leaving the Doctor and the boys to guard the mine. The next day Mr. Latrobe and Tom set off on mules for the town, fifteen miles distant, where Tom's mother lived. They arrived about noon, and Tom was eager to broach the business at once. But Mr. Latrobe objected.
"I don't want to talk to you about this business, Madam, without the presence of some legal adviser or man of business, whose advice will prevent you from making mistakes."
"Oh," answered the widow, "my Tom is here and he has a clear head."
"All the same I wish you would send for a lawyer," answered the gentleman.
"But I cannot afford it," said the lady.
"You can, Madam. Your coal property is rich enough to afford many lawyers. And besides, Tom here has money enough to his credit on our books to pay a lawyer's fee ten times over. You have no idea what a winter's work your boys have put in on the mountain. Sincerely, I do not wish to lay my proposals before you without the presence of some disinterested, professional person, who can wisely advise you as to their acceptance or rejection. I have asked Tom to come with me in order that he may tell you how rich a property you have in this coal deposit, and warn your professional adviser against concluding any arrangement with me and my associates which does not give you an adequate recompense for the property that we ask you to put into this venture."
So the lady sent for a wise old lawyer, who, after hearing Tom's statement, earnestly advised the widow to accept the terms offered. Then Mr. Latrobe said:
"Madam, I am going to employ this gentleman, as a trusted friend of yours, to draw up our articles of incorporation and complete the legal formalities necessary to our mining company's existence. Meantime Tom and I will go back to the mine and set men at work in its development."
"What name will you give to your company?" asked the old lawyer.
"Why, the 'Camp Venture Mining Company,'" quickly responded Tom, "and we'll call the mine itself the 'Camp Venture Mine.' It all came out of Camp Venture."
CHAPTER XLIV
Little Tom at the End of it All
All arrangements having been agreed upon between Mrs. Ridsdale and Mr. Latrobe, it was not necessary to wait for the formal organization of the company before beginning the work of developing Camp Venture mine. So Tom and Mr. Latrobe, as soon as the preliminary papers were drawn up and signed, mounted their mules and returned to the mine. Tom reached the camp that night and told the boys all about the arrangements that had been made. The next morning Mr. Latrobe came up the mountain, accompanied by a mining engineer, a company of workmen and a wagon load of tools, the latter guided by the same deaf and silent driver who had brought up Tom's load of supplies.
The men were set to work at once under direction of the engineer. They cleared away the forest in front of the mine and, in the course of a few days built a chute so nicely calculated as to its incline that it would carry coal gently but surely to the railroad below.
Meantime another company of workmen were busy constructing long sidetracks at the foot of the hill and connecting them with the main line of the railroad, while still another gang was employed in making a good wagon road down the hill.
The boys, seeing their work done, began to prepare for their home-going—all but Tom and the Doctor. Those two sat on a log just within the light of the camp fire one night and talked.
"I am going to stay here," said the Doctor. "This climate agrees with me as no other ever did, and besides, I shall be needed here. We shall have half a thousand miners at work here within three months, and their families will occupy quite a little town, built upon this ledge. A physician and surgeon will be needed, and I have secured the appointment. The company will pay me a salary for treating all injuries that the miners may receive, and as for the rest, of course the miners themselves will pay for my services in their families. Anyhow I'm going to build myself a comfortable little house up here and live here, where I can be strong and well and happy."
"I'm going to stay too," said Tom. "I'm going in as a miner if I can't get anything better to do."
"But you can get something much better," said the Doctor, "and I was just about to speak of that. I have already talked to the chief engineer about it. He introduced the subject himself. He is a person of very quick perceptions, as every engineer must be if he hopes for success, and he has discovered certain qualities in you which commend you to him very strongly. He has found out that, as you once put it, you 'look straight at things and use common sense.' Apart from a little technical mathematics, that is absolutely all there is of engineering, and he has taken a fancy to have you for an executive assistant. You see, in starting a mine so great as this, he will be obliged to plan many things which he will have no time to supervise in the execution. He wants you as an 'engineer's overseer,' he calls it. That is to say, when he plans a truss or a support, or anything else that is necessary and explains it to you, he wants to leave the matter in your hands, leaving you to direct the workmen and to see to it that his plans are intelligently carried out. After his talk with me concerning you, he was certain that you are precisely the kind of assistant he wants, and the appointment is open to you at a very fair salary."
"How can I ever thank you enough, Doctor?" said Tom, with tears in his voice. As for his eyes they could not be seen in the darkness.
"By not thanking me at all. Don't you understand, Tom, that my father, my brothers and myself have invested heavily in this mining venture? I have put into it every spare dollar I had in the world, and naturally I want it to 'go.' I believe that your practical common sense can mightily help in accomplishing that, and for that reason I have encouraged the chief engineer in his purpose to make you his overseer."
"Thank you, Doctor," said Tom. "But if you know me at all you know I'm honest. I made up my mind to stay here on any terms that I could make, because I want to study this thing that you call mine engineering. I wanted to see how it is done, so that some day I could do it myself. I don't intend to remain an engineer's overseer all my life. I intend to be the best engineer I can make out of the raw material in me. So my plan is to stay here, keep my eyes and my mind open, and learn all I can of practical engineering work, till the mine begins to pay. Then I intend to go away to some scientific school and take a regular course in engineering."
"That's admirable!" said the Doctor, with enthusiasm. "Now, I'll venture some suggestions. How much mathematics do you know?"
"Algebra, elementary and higher, and a little geometry."
"Good!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Now, I propose this plan: You shall live with me in the little house that I'm going to build, and serve as the chief engineer's executive at a fair salary from the company. I'll teach you all I know of general chemistry and geology of evenings, and I'll interest the chief engineer to teach you trigonometry, the calculus and surveying. In the meantime you'll be learning the practical part of engineering in your daily work, and when you go off to that scientific school its faculty will have little to do except to take your fees, record your name, and grant you your diploma."
Six years later Camp Venture mine was, in the phrase of the investors, "one of the richest paying enterprises" in that part of the country. Dr. Latrobe had become president of the company after the death of his father, and the enterprise owed much of its success, as every body agreed, to the skill, the energy, and the wonderful common sense of its chief engineer, Thomas Ridsdale, Esq., graduate of a noted school of mines.
Tom was only twenty-four years old then, but he had always been accounted "old for his age," and as he stood upon the bluff, contemplated the long line of cars loaded with the product of Camp Venture mine and planned new side tracks in order that cars enough might stand there to receive the other waiting cargoes of the concentrated sunshine of thousands of years ago, "Little Tom," grown now to six feet two inches in his stockings, was satisfied with his life and his work.
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