A LIFE IS SAVED AND DERRICK IS PROMOTED
Mrs. Halford and her daughter were flung rudely forward to the end of the car by the shock of the collision, and were, of course, badly frightened, as well as considerably shaken up and somewhat bruised. They were not seriously hurt, however, and with Derrick's assistance they got out of the car and stood on the door-tender's platform.
Derrick sent the boy who had been so sleepy, but who was now wide-awake and crying with fright, back to ask the miners they had just left to come to their assistance. Then he turned his attention to Harry Mule. The poor beast was not dead, but was evidently badly injured. He was jammed so tightly between the cars and the door that he could not move, and the light of Derrick's lamp disclosed several ugly-looking cuts in his body, from which blood was flowing freely.
The tears streamed down the boy's face as he witnessed the suffering of his dumb friend, and realized how powerless he was to do anything to relieve it. He was not a bit ashamed of these signs of grief when he felt a light touch on his arm, and turning, saw Nellie Halford, with eyes also full of tears, standing beside him, and gazing pityingly at the mule.
"Will he die, do you think?" she asked.
"I don't know, but I'm afraid so, or that he's too badly hurt to be made well again, and so will have to be killed."
"No, he sha'n't be killed. My uncle sha'n't let him. If he does, I'll never love him again!" exclaimed Miss Nellie, with determined energy. "Poor old mule! poor Harry! you shall have everything in the world done for you if you only won't die," she added, stooping and patting the animal's head with her soft hand.
Feebly lifting his head and pricking forward his great ears, Harry Mule opened his eyes, and looked at the girl for a moment so earnestly that she almost thought he was going to speak to her. Then the big, wondering eyes were closed again, and the shaggy head sank on the wet roadway, but Nellie felt that she had been thanked for her pitying words and gentle touch.
After a while the little door-tender came hurrying back, followed by the men for whom he had been sent. They were much excited over the accident, on account of the character of the visitors who had been sufferers from it, and were inclined to use very harsh language towards the boy whose neglect of duty had caused it. This, however, was prevented by Mrs. Halford, who declared she would not have the little fellow abused. She said it was a burning shame that children of his age were allowed in the mines at all, and it was no wonder they went to sleep, after sitting all alone for hours without anything to occupy their thoughts, in that awful darkness and silence.
The loaded car proved so heavy that it had to be unloaded before it could be moved. Then the empty car was pushed back from Harry Mule, and he made a frantic struggle to regain his feet. After several unsuccessful attempts he finally succeeded, and stood trembling in the roadway. It was now seen that he had the use of only three legs, and an examination showed his right fore-leg to be broken.
"He'll never do no more work in this mine," said one of the men. "The poor beast will have to be killed."
"He sha'n't be killed! He sha'n't, I say. We won't have him killed; will we, mother?" cried Nellie Halford, her voice trembling with emotion.
"No, dear, not if anything we can do will prevent it," answered the mother, gently.
"Don't you think," continued the girl, turning to Derrick, "that he might be mended if anybody would take the time and trouble?"
"Yes, I think he might, because there is a mule at work in the mine now that had a broken leg, and they cured him. He was a young mule, though. I'm afraid they won't bother with one so old as Harry."
"He's listening to every word we say," interrupted the girl, "and I do believe he understands too. Just look at him!"
The wounded mule was standing in a dejected attitude on the very spot where he had been so badly hurt; but his patient face, with its big eyes, was turned inquiringly towards them, and it did seem as though he were listening anxiously to the conversation about himself.
He managed to limp a few steps away from the door, so that it could be opened, and was then left in charge of the little door-tender, who was instructed to keep him as still as possible.
After the miners had given the empty car a start, Derrick found that he could keep it in motion, and undertook to push it as far as the junction, Mrs. Halford and Miss Nellie following on foot. The two miners remained upon the scene of the accident to refill the car they had been compelled to unload.
The ladies and Derrick had gone but a short distance when they heard, faintly, through the closed door behind them, a plaintive "Haw, he-haw, he-haw, he-haw."
As Nellie Halford said, it sounded exactly as though poor dear old Harry Mule were begging them not to leave him.
They had nearly reached the junction when a cheery voice rang out of the gloom ahead of them, saying,
"Holloa there! where's your mule? and where's your light? You wouldn't run over a stranger, would you?"
"I'm the mule," replied Derrick, as, panting and perspiring with his exertions, he looked around a rear corner of the car to see who was coming.
"Why, Derrick, is that you?" inquired the voice, in a tone of great surprise. "What has happened? where are the ladies?"
"Oh, Warren!" exclaimed Mrs. Halford, from somewhere back in the darkness, "I'm so thankful to see—I mean to hear—you. Here we are."
"But I don't understand," said Mr. Jones, for it was he who had so unexpectedly come to their assistance. "What is the meaning of all this? Where's the bumping-mule?"
"We had a collision with a door," explained Miss Nellie, "and poor Harry Mule got crushed. His leg's broken, and he's all cut up. But oh, Uncle Warren, you won't have him killed, will you?"
"I can't promise until I find out how badly he is injured."
"Oh, but you must, Uncle Warren. If you have him killed, I'll never love you again," insisted Miss Nellie, repeating the threat she had already made.
"Well, dear, I'll promise this: he shall not be killed unless I can show you that it is the best thing to be done, and you give your consent."
"Then he'll live to be an old, old mule!" cried Miss Nellie, joyfully; "for I'll never, never consent to have him killed."
As the ladies once more got into the car, and the mine boss helped Derrick push it towards the junction, Mrs. Halford said, "How do you happen to be back so early, Warren? I thought you were to be gone all day."
"Why, so I have been," he answered, with some surprise. "Don't you call from six o'clock in the morning to nearly the same hour of the evening all day?"
"You don't mean to say that it is nearly six o'clock?"
"I do; for that witching hour is certainly near at hand."
"Well, I never knew a day to pass so quickly in my life. I didn't suppose it was more than three o'clock, at the latest."
"It is, though; and to understand how time passes down in a mine, you have but to remember two often quoted sayings. One is, 'Time is money,' and the other, 'Money vanishes down the throat of a mine more quickly than smoke up a chimney.' Ergo, time vanishes quickly down in a mine. Is not that a good bit of logic for you?"
Both the ladies laughed at this nonsense, but it served to divert their minds from the painful scene they had just witnessed, and therefore accomplished its purpose.
From the junction Mr. Jones sent some men back to get Harry Mule and take him to the stable, where his injuries could be examined and his wounds dressed. He also ordered a report to be made concerning them that evening. Then the ladies' car was attached to a train of loaded coal-wagons, and the party were thus taken to the foot of the slope.
As the great wire cable began to strain, and they started slowly up the slope towards the outer world, both Mrs. Halford and Miss Nellie looked back regretfully into the mysterious depths behind them.
"I wouldn't have believed that in a few hours this awful place could exercise such a fascination over me," said the former. "I really hate to leave it, and wish we were coming down again to-morrow."
"So do I," exclaimed Miss Nellie; "and if I were a boy, I'd study to be an engineer, and spend my life down among the 'black diamonds' of the coal-mines."
Did this girl know of the hopes and ambitions of the boy who sat beside her? This question flashed through his mind; but he quickly answered it for himself: "Of course not, Derrick Sterling. What a fool you are to fancy such a thing! She only knows and thinks of you, if she thinks of you at all, as a mule-driver, such as she has seen a dozen of to-day."
Although the sun had set when they reached the top of the slope, and a breeze was blowing, the outer air felt oppressively warm after that of the mine, and the ladies became suddenly aware of a weariness they had not before felt.
Derrick was made very happy, and almost forgot for a time his sadness at Harry Mule's pitiable condition, when Mr. Jones invited him to come and take tea with them. Joyfully accepting the invitation, the lad hastened home to change his clothes, and the others, walking more slowly gazed after him.
"I think he's splendid!" exclaimed Miss Nellie, with the outspoken decision that generally marked the expression of her thoughts; "and I do hope he will have a chance to become a mining engineer."
"He will, if he keeps on trying for it as he has begun," said her uncle. "Any boy, no matter if he is born and brought up a gentleman, as Derrick Sterling certainly was, who goes in at the very bottom of any business, determined to climb to the top, will find a way to do it."
"I like to see a boy not ashamed to do dirty work, if that is what his duty calls him to do," said Mrs. Halford. "He comes out all the brighter and cleaner by contrast when the dirt is washed off."
If Derrick's right ear did not burn and tingle with all this praise, it ought to have done so; but perhaps he was too busy telling the exciting news of the day at home to notice it.
He did not walk past the Jones's house, nor hesitate before ringing the door-bell on this occasion, as he had the evening before, but stepped up to it with all the boldness of one who was about to meet and greet old acquaintances. Besides, his mind was too full of the sad fate that had befallen his mule to admit of more than the briefest consideration of personal feelings.
At the supper-table the conversation was wholly of mines, collieries, and the perils of miners' lives, in regard to which Mr. Jones related a number of interesting incidents.
"How wonderful it is!" said Miss Nellie, who had listened to all this with eager attention. "Who first discovered coal, anyway, Uncle Warren? and how did people find out that it would burn?"
"If you mean who discovered anthracite coal, I believe the credit is generally given to a man named Philip Gunter, who lived in a cabin on the side of a mountain not far from where we are now sitting. He was a hunter; and the story goes that one day in the year 1791 he had been out hunting for many hours, without securing any game, which made him feel very badly, for when he left home that morning there was no food in the house. Towards night he was returning, greatly depressed in spirits, and paying so little heed to his footsteps that he stumbled and fell over some obstacle. Stooping to see what it was, he found a black stone, different from any he had ever before noticed. He had, however, heard of stone coal, and thought perhaps this might be a lump of that substance. Having nothing else to carry, he decided to take it home as a curiosity. Soon afterwards he gave it to a friend, who sent it to Philadelphia, where it was pronounced to be genuine coal. A few gentlemen became interested in this discovery, and formed themselves in the 'Lehigh Coal-mine Company.' A mine was opened, and four laborers were employed to work it; but as there was no way of getting the coal they mined to market they were soon discharged, and the project was abandoned for the time being.
"Nothing further was done until 1817, when Colonel George Shoemaker, of Pottsville, took four wagon-loads of anthracite coal to Philadelphia, and tried to sell it there. People laughed at him for telling them that those black stones would burn; but he guaranteed that they would. Upon this a number of persons bought small quantities on trial; but all their efforts failed to set it on fire. Then they became very angry, and tried to have Colonel Shoemaker thrown into prison for cheating them. He fled from the city, pursued by officers who held warrants for his arrest. Finally he managed to elude them, and reached his home, thoroughly disgusted with coal, and ready to swear that he would have nothing more to do with it.
"In the mean time a lot of the black stones had been purchased for trial by the Fairmount Nail-works. It was placed in one of the furnaces, and the proprietor spent a whole morning with his men in trying to make the stuff burn. They were unsuccessful, and finally, completely disheartened by their failure, they shut the furnace door and went off to dinner, uttering loud threats against the man who had sold them such worthless trash. Upon their return to the works they were filled with amazement, for the furnace door was red hot, and a fire of the most intense heat was roaring and blazing behind it. Since that time there has been no difficulty in selling anthracite coal nor in making it burn. Now the production of coal in this country has reached such enormous proportions that its annual value is equal to that of all the gold, silver, and iron mined in the United States during the year."
Just here Mr. Jones was interrupted by the arrival of the report of Harry Mule's condition. It was very brief, and pronounced the animal to be so badly injured, and his chances of recovery so slight, that it would cost more to attempt to cure him than he was worth.
"Now what am I to do about him?" asked Mr. Jones.
"I want to buy that mule, Warren," said Mrs. Halford.
"Please give him to me," pleaded Miss Nellie.
"I should like to have a chance to try and cure him," said Derrick; and all these requests were made at once.
Mr. Jones looked at them with a puzzled smile, thought a moment, and then said, "All right: I will sell him to you, sister, for one cent, provided you will give him to Nellie, and that she will leave him with Derrick to care for and cure if he can."
"That's a splendid plan!" cried Miss Nellie.
"Have you any place in which to take care of him?" asked Mrs. Halford of Derrick.
"Yes," answered the boy, "we have a little empty stable back of our house that will make a tip-top mule hospital."
"Then it's a bargain, Warren; and if you take care of him, Derrick, you must let me pay all the doctor's bills, and furnish all necessary hay, corn, and oats."
Thus it was decided that Harry Mule should be restored to health and usefulness, if money, skill, and kind care could do it.
Before Derrick left, the mine boss said to him, "Now that there is no Harry Mule for you to drive, I am going to promote you, and let you work with Tom Evert as his helper. In that position you will gain a thoroughly practical knowledge of mining. You may report to him to-morrow."