The Bungalow Boys on the Great Lakes

by John Henry Goldfrap

"We are in Tunnel No. 4 of the Old Mine," he rapped out.

Then they waited for the answer. It seemed an age before it came to the entombed men.

"Will try to get help to you. But the explosion has blocked the shaft."

With this they had to be content, but the man above continued, from time to time, to send down bulletins of what was being done. In this way he announced the work of the relief parties, and described the damage done by the explosion. Three men had been killed, he said, but the others had managed to escape, although more or less wounded. When the first wreck occurred they had at once made for the upper levels, not waiting for the arrival of the dynamite car, which they knew must be on its way. In this manner they had saved themselves from death.

After that there seemed nothing more to do but to await, with what patience they might, the work of rescue. But they knew full well that if help didn't come before long they were doomed to die of hunger and thirst, for already they were beginning to feel the pangs of privation.

Water particularly was what they longed for. It was hot, stiflingly so, in their living tomb, and there appeared no prospect of speedy relief. They tried in vain to get at the fluid that they knew was inside the pipe, but, having no tools, their efforts were useless, and would not have been attempted by any but desperate men, such as they were fast becoming.

At first they kept track of the time, but after awhile their store of matches grew so low that they did not dare light them to examine their watches. To make matters worse, no answer now came to MacPherson's tappings, and so they were deprived of the means of knowing how the work above them was going on.

Hour after hour passed in the darkness, and the nerves of the imprisoned captives were cruelly racked. But suddenly a sound broke in on the silence.

It was a queer sort of scraping sound among the great mass of rock that was blocking the tunnel. Then, to the wonderment of the imprisoned men, a voice came through the darkness with startling clearness. To their overwrought imaginations it seemed almost supernatural for an instant. But the next moment the mysterious incident was explained.

The rescuing party, working on the other side of the blockade, had succeeded in forcing a pipe through the rock. Through this they were now addressing the captives. Before long the pipe served a new use. Water and food in liquid form were forced through it, the imprisoned men taking turns at getting their nourishment in this odd fashion.