The mine owner then led the way through the office and across the yard to a platform outside the smelter. Here they climbed into one of the short, dumpy little ore cars and were borne swiftly up the incline.
It took but a minute to reach the top, where they found, to their surprise, that there was a good deal more space than they had supposed.
Jumping out of the car, they followed their guide into the pump house where they gazed in surprise at the huge engines which worked night and day pumping air into the underground workings, and drawing out through the ventilation shafts the hot, poisonous vapors from below.
From thence they passed quickly to the shaft house, where two mammoth hoisting engines of a thousand horse power each operated the cages, of which there were four, the main shaft being divided into that number of compartments.
The engineer and his assistant nodded as the chief entered.
“Be one along in a minute, Mr. Fairchilds,” the former said, as he glanced at the dial before him.
In less than that time, a cage shot up from the shaft and two miners stepped out. One of them was a big, burly fellow with a long scar on one side of his face.
“Hello, Bill,” the mine owner called. “After anything important? I want you to show us around down below.”
The fellow grinned, displaying a void on his upper jaw where two front teeth were missing.
“Need a little powder, that’s all,” he said. “I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”