The Haunted Mine

by Harry Castlemon

"Pull me up, Julian! For goodness' sake, pull me up!"

Julian jumped for the windlass and put every atom of his strength into it. At first the resistance of the bucket was just about what it would have been if Jack had stepped into it; but suddenly the resistance ceased, the crank was jerked out of his hand, and Julian was thrown headlong to the ground.

"What was that?" exclaimed the boy, regaining his feet as quickly as he could. "Jack, did you fall out of the bucket?"

There was no response to his question. He leaned over and looked into the pit; but Jack's light had gone out, and everything was silent below. The rustling of feet had ceased, the moans had died away, and the mine was as still as the grave.

"Something has happened to Jack!" exclaimed Julian, running to his lean-to after his revolver and lamp. "I am going down there to see about it if all the ghosts in the Rocky Mountains should be there to stop me!"

Julian worked frantically, and in less time than it takes to tell it he was ready to go down to Jack's help. He hastily unwound the rope until all the length was out except the extreme end, which was fastened to the windlass by a couple of staples, and swung himself into the mine. He went down much faster than Jack did, and when he reached the bottom he let go his hold on the rope, and, holding his revolver in readiness for a shot, he turned slowly about, as if he were expecting that whatever had frightened Jack would be upon him before he could think twice. But nothing came. In whatever direction he turned his light, everything seemed concealed by Egyptian darkness, and finally he resolved to let the ghosts go and turned his attention to Jack. There he lay, close to Julian's feet, his lamp extinguished and his revolver at a little distance from him; and it was plain that he was either frightened or dead, for Julian had never seen so white a face before. His own face, if he only knew it, was utterly devoid of color, and his hands trembled so that he could scarcely use them.

"I would like to know what it was that could make Jack faint away in this fashion," muttered Julian, first looking all around to make sure that nothing had come in sight before he laid his revolver down. "How to get him into that bucket, and the bail over him, is what bothers me just now; but he must go in, and get out of this."

Jack was a heavyweight, and if any boy who reads this has ever been called upon to handle a playmate who remained limp and motionless in his arms he will know what a task Julian had to put him into the bucket. And remember that he must go inside the bail, otherwise he could not pull him out; and the bail would not stay up without somebody to hold it. But Julian worked away as only a boy can under such circumstances, and was just getting him in shape, so that in a moment more he would have had him in, when he noticed that one of his hands was wet. He stopped for a moment to look at it, and at the sight of it he seemed ready to sit down beside Jack and faint away, too.

"It is blood!" murmured Julian. "My goodness! you must get out of here, and be quick about it! What was that?"

Julian straightened up again, but he had his revolver in his hand. That moaning sound was repeated again, but the boy could not tell where it came from. It was not so great in volume as the first one that had saluted Jack, but it was a complaining kind of a sound, such as one might utter who was being deserted by the only friend he had upon earth. Julian stood there with his revolver in his hand, but, aside from the sound which rung in his ears for many a night afterward, his eyes could not reveal a single thing for him to shoot at. Julian thought now that he had got at the bottom of the mystery. Hastily slipping his revolver into his belt, he turned his attention to Jack, and in a few moments had him ready to hoist to the top. Then he seized the rope, and, climbing it hand over hand, he reached the surface, when, throwing off his hat and revolver, he turned around to haul up Jack.