It was at that stage, Bat fell back abreast of the Sheriff, and Matthews behind heard one of the two say, "Damn him, then, let him go on and examine his bellyfull! It's his funeral; not ours!"
Wayland not only examined the second tunnel above the first, but he insisted on descending a shaft that had been sunk almost vertically from the crest of Coal Hill to get a measurement of the veins, for stoping, or cross cutting, or drifting or some such technical work, I forget what; but the vertical shaft afforded estimates of the depth of the veins. Because it was not a regular avenue of work but only of examination, it had not been equipped with steam hoist and electric light, but was furnished only with such old fashioned hand winch as the stage driver had described to Eleanor. A huge bucket depended by cable from the hand hoist. It was as they were all lighting lanterns and stepping in, that MacDonald took a look at the hoist and noticed that the Sheriff was to give a hand at the winch.
"Not coming Brydges?" asked Matthews, who was already in the bucket.
"Oh, I guess I'm a pretty heavy man to go in that."
"Then, A guess you're afraid of what's goin' t' happen! We're not goin' down, without you, m' boy."
Bat winked at the Sheriff and clambered in. It was then something on the edge of the Brulé arrested MacDonald's glance; Calamity coming through the cottonwoods mad and dishevelled, O'Finnigan reeling up from the Smelter City trail mad with whiskey, waving a bottle and shouting—"What's th' use o' anything? Nothing! I'm Uncle Sam! Hoorah!"
"Go on," ordered MacDonald curtly. "I'll keep the notes safe up here, in my pocket, Wayland! I'll stay and give Sheriff Flood a hand at the hoist!"
The Sheriff looked for directions to Brydges.
"Let her go," ordered Brydges with a glance back over his shoulder towards the trail from Smelter City; and the winch creaked and groaned; and the bucket fell with a bump; then a steady drop to the first vein. When Matthews looked up, the slant of the shaft had cut off the sky. Brydges didn't bother clambering out of the bucket. He was silent and kept hold of the dependent cable. Suddenly, there was a rumble as of the hoist flying backward, then the whip lash of a taut rope snapping, and the cable whirled down in a coil round Brydges' head.
"Gee whiz! This is a pretty mess! The cable's broke; and we can't get up!"