AN UNEXPECTED PROMOTION
THE hours dragged wearily along, the cage resting motionless, save for an occasional jolt, in the dark shaft. Long ago Steve Rush's candle had burned out, the hot grease dripping down over his hat brim.
All at once, without the usual jarring warning, the cage began to move slowly upward. Being off the track, it bumped along not unlike a handcar running on the ties of a railroad, banging from side to side of the shaft, threatening every instant to precipitate the three men to the bottom.
"Hang on, fellows!" cried Steve. "Watch out that those guard rails do not jar loose. Keep your hands on the ends, and at the first sign of trouble get over on the iron rod."
The others did as he directed.
"You've got the only real head in the mines," grumbled Jarvis.
Rush did not answer. He was too busy looking out for their safety to indulge in further conversation. It was the longest and roughest ride that any one of those three men ever had experienced, and the way up through the shaft seemed many miles. At last a faint light filtered down about the cage.
"We are getting near the top," announced Bob.
Steve nodded, but did not reply. The light grew stronger.
"Sit steady," warned Rush. "Do not attempt to leave the cage until I tell you, unless you want to get a dandy tumble."