“‘But ye mustn’t miss it,’ sez he. ‘’T seems to me yer gettin’ mighty keerful of yourself all to wunst.’
“Sez I, ‘Boss, haul me up. I’m a fool, but not an idgit. Haul me up. I’m not so much afeared of the blowin’ up ez of the comin’ down. If I should miss comin’ onto this ledge, thar’s nobody a thousan’ feet below thar to ketch me, an’ I might get drownded in the Arkansaw, for I kain’t swim.’
“So they hauled me up, an’ let three other fellers down, an’ the boss discharged me, an’ I sot down sorter behind a rock, an’ tole ’em they’d soon have a fust-class funeral, and might need me for pall-bearer.
“Wall, them fellers ketched the dynamite all right, and put ’er in, an’ lit their fuse, but afore they could haul ’em up she went off. Great guns! ’T was wuss ’n forty thousan’ Fourth o’ Julys. A million coyotes an’ tin pans an’ horns an’ gongs ain’t a sarcumstance. Th’ hull gorge fur ten mile bellered, an’ bellered, an’ kep’ on bellerin’ wuss ’n a corral o’ Texas bulls. I foun’ myself on my back a lookin’ up, an’ th’ las’ thing I seed wuz two o’ them fellers a’ whirlin’ clean over the mountain, two thousan’ feet above. One of ’em had my jack-knife an’ tobacker, but ’t was no use cryin’. ’T was a good jack-knife, though; I do n’t keer so much fur the tobacker. He slung suthin’ at me as he went over, but it didn’t come nowhar near, ’n’ I don’t know yet what it was. When we all kinder come to, the boss looked at his watch, ’n’ tole us all to witness that the fellers was blown up just at noon, an’ was only entitled to half a day’s wages, an’ quit ’thout notice. When we got courage to peep over an’ look down, we found that the hat-brim was n’t busted off at all; the hull thing was only a squib. But we noticed that a rock ez big ez a good-sized cabin, hed loosened, an’ hed rolled down on top of it. While we sat lookin’ at it, boss sez, sez he,
“‘Did you fellers see mor’n two go up?’
“‘No,’ sez we, an’ pretty soon we heern t’ other feller a’ hollerin’, ‘Come down ’n get me out!’
“Gents, you may have what’s left of my old shoe, if the ledge had n’t split open a leetle, ’n’ that chap fell into the crack, ’n’ the big rock rolled onto the ledge an’ sorter gently held him thar. He war n’t hurt a har. We wer n’t slow about gettin’ down. We jist tied a rope to a pint o’ rock an’ slid. But you may hang me for a chipmuck ef we could git any whar near him, an’ it was skeery business a foolin’ roun’ on that ere verandy. ’T war n’t much bigger ’n a hay-rack, an’ a thousan’ foot up. We hed some crowbars, but boss got a leetle excited, an’ perty soon bent every one on ’em tryin’ to prize off that bowlder that’d weigh a hundred ton like. Then agin we wuz all on it, fer it kivered th’ hull ledge, ’n’ whar’d we ben ef he’d prized it off? All the while the chap kep’ a hollerin’, ‘Hurry up; pass me some tobacker!’ Oh, it was the pitterfulest cry you ever heern, an’ we didn’t know what to do till he yelled, ‘I’m a losin’ time; hain’t you goin’ to git me out?’ Sez boss, ‘I’ve bent all the crowbars, an’ we can’t git you out.’
“‘Got any dynamite powder?’ sez the feller.
“‘Yes.’
“‘Well, then, why ‘n the name of the Denver ’n’ Ryo Grand don’t you blast me out,’ sez he.