“How do you get down the shaft to the lower level?” Wilson asked.
“There was a ladder, but it was smashed by the explosion. Hoover, the first man in, came out for a rope, so I suppose that’s there now. Young must have gone down by it.
“Hoover also reported that the roof of the old gallery was in bad shape just over the shaft. That’s the particular reason we are afraid to blast the rock here until we know whether any of the men were caught at the bottom of the pit.”
Wilson arose and began removing his collar. “How about water, Mr. Bartlett, since the pump is not working?” he inquired.
“Unless the explosion tapped new water, there’ll be no danger for twenty-four hours at least. But if the drain channel of the lower gallery has been filled the floor will be very slippery,” the mine boss added. “It’s slate, and we left it smooth, as a runway for the ore boxes.”
As the young operator removed his spotless collar—one similar to that which had so aroused the cowmen’s derision on his first day at Bonepile—without a smile one of the very men who had formed the “welcoming committee” that day rubbed his hands on his shirt, took it carefully, and placed it on a clean plank.
“You’ll want a lamp. Somebody give the boy a cap and lamp,” the boss directed. A dozen of the miners whipped off caps with attached lamps, and trying several, Wilson found one to fit. Then, buttoning his coat and turning up the collar, he made his way to the rock-sealed entrance, and climbed up to the narrow opening.
“I’ll tap as soon as I reach the pipe,” he said. “So long!” and without more ado crawled head first within and disappeared.
The lamp on his cap lighting up the narrow trough-like tunnel, Wilson easily wormed his way forward ten or twelve feet. Then the passage contracted and became broken and twisted. However, given confidence by the knowledge that others had passed through, Wilson squeezed on, there presently came a widening of the hole, then a black opening, and with a final effort he found himself projecting into the black depths of the empty gallery.
Below him the debris sloped to the floor. Pulling himself free, he slid and scrambled down, and quickly was on his feet, breathing with relief. Only pausing to brush some of the dust from his clothes, Wilson hastened forward.