He followed Dick into the cage and dropped the dynamite on the floor with a thump which made Bouncer jump nervously. Then the descent began.
In an instant the floor of the shaft house had vanished and they were dropping noiselessly into the darkness, lit only by the flickering rays of the lantern which hung from the top of the cage, showing the timbers that lined the shaft seemingly leaping upward.
Bigelow caught his breath in a sudden gasp and clutched Tucker’s wrist convulsively.
Presently the cage passed a large, irregular, well-lighted room opening back into the rock from the side of the shaft. Men were busy there, and they could hear the throbbing of machinery at work.
“That’s one of the stations,” explained Fairchilds. “It’s the opening to one of the intermediate levels, but we won’t stop. I want you to see the lowest level.”
Down they went. Other stations flashed past at regular intervals until they had counted seven or eight of them. Presently the cable supporting the car began to take on a peculiarly disagreeable bobbing motion, which gave the novices an odd sensation, as though they were hung over an abyss by a rubber strap, and caused Bouncer to clutch Tucker again and gasp anew. Then the car stopped and they stepped out onto the floor.
The station of the lowest lift was like all those they had passed—well-lighted, walled, floored and roofed with heavy planking, and filled with all sorts of mining supplies. A narrow-gauge track led from the shaft back into the drift, or tunnel beyond, which was fairly well lighted by electric globes at intervals along the walls.
McDonough took the lead, and they at once plunged into the tunnel, which had a barely perceptible upward grade.
“Follows the course of the vein, you understand,” the mine owner explained, as he pointed out where the ore had been taken out along one side of the drift. “We’ll get to where they’re working in a few minutes, and then you can see how it’s done.”
“Look out!” yelled McDonough warningly.