Another time we had a young Mexican boy working in the cave sewing sacks. One day he got upset over something and suddenly decided to quit, saying, "Me voy, me voy!" (I am going, I am going.)
It was really nothing serious, and we pleaded with him, trying to explain to him that the matter was not important, that we liked him and wanted him to stay as we needed him. Furthermore, it wasn't easy to get men to remain at the cave.
Our pleadings were of no avail, for he started out and we couldn't stop him. He jumped on the car and began to pull the ropes and in that way propel himself to the top of the cave.
Ropes in those days were not too well made and they wore out fast. He didn't know, and, in fact, we didn't either, that the rope on the hoist was ready to snap.
Up he went, almost to the top, and then—snap. Down came car, Mexican boy and all, right smack into a waiting load of guano. He was covered from head to foot—just a leg sticking out.
He didn't move, and we were sure he had been killed. We started digging and soon uncovered a very much alive but very scared little fellow. The guano had cushioned the fall.
Apparently he thought we somehow caused the fall to prevent his escape, for he never tried to run away again, and soon became one of our best workers.
Incidents like this were not good for the morale of the men. The pranks, of course, were harmless as far as danger was concerned, but natural risks were always present.
Sometimes the pranks were meant to be harmless, and they were to the men, but it worked a hardship on us who managed the mine. I remember one day Victor Queen, who at that time was in charge of operations, had to go to Carlsbad for supplies.
"Johnny," he said to his brother, "I'm leaving you and Wayne Crowder in charge while I'm gone. Keep the men busy. I'll be back as soon as I can make it."