“Some tapping? What—Oh, I understand. OK! Go ahead,” ticked the despatcher. “Get back as soon as possible.”
“I will.”
“All right, Muskoke,” cried Wilson, hastening forth, struggling into his coat as he ran.
“Get round thar,” shouted the cowboy, swinging the spare pony to the platform. Wilson went into the saddle with a neat bound.
“Say, you’ve seen a hoss before, kid,” observed Muskoka with surprise as he threw over the reins.
“Sure I have. Used to spend my summer vacations on a farm. Can ride a bit standing up,” said Wilson, with pride.
They swung their animals about together, and were off on the jump. As the two ponies stretched out to their full stride the cowboy eyed Wilson’s easy seat with approval. “Well, kid,” he observed after a moment’s silence, “next time I come across a dude I’ll git him to do his tricks before I brand him. I don’t see but what you sit about as good as I do.”
Wilson’s pleased smile gave place to gravity as he returned to the subject of the explosion. “When did it happen?” he asked.
“Early this morning. Just after the men went in. They’re not sure, but think it was powder stored at the foot of the shaft down to the lower level. The main lead of the Pine Lode, you know, runs straight into the mountain, not down; and the shaft to the lower level is a ways in. We heard the noise at the Bar-O.
“There’s nothing much to see, or do, though,” the cowman added as they raced along neck and neck. “A big rock just over the entrance came down, and when they got the dirt away they found it had bottled the thing up like a cork. It’s that they are afraid to blast until they know how the men are fixed inside. Hoover and Young got in through a small hole at the top, Hoover about half an hour before Young. He started tapping on the pipe too, then stopped. They don’t know what happened to him.”