The tunnel was fairly wide and over six feet high. It sloped gently upward and was quite dry, thus accounting for the preservation of the massive oak beams that acted as supports. Here and there along the sides were the marks of tools, but scarcely a vestige of ore remained.
“Vein petered out, I suppose,” remarked Mr. Curtis. “That’s why it was abandoned, of course.”
The interest of the scouts, however, was less on the mine than on Court’s “wildcat.” As they approached the shaft some hurried forward while others kept prudently in the rear.
“He’s there yet!” announced Parker, peering over the edge. “See his eyes! I wonder if–”
He did not finish. Mr. Reed flashed the light from his battery into the hole, and Trexler, close beside him, gave an exclamation of surprise.
“Why, it’s a coon!”
And so it was; an uncommonly large specimen, to be sure, but still exceedingly harmless and inoffensive. In fact, at the flashes of light and the sight of so many faces peering down on it, the frightened creature shrank close to the side of the pit as if trying to escape.
“It’s fallen down and can’t get out!” exclaimed Trexler. “Can’t I go down and get it, Mr. Reed?”
The hole was barely four feet across and not more than twice as deep–a trial shaft, Mr. Curtis suggested, probably sunk in the search for another vein. Receiving permission, Paul simply hung by his hands and dropped, and the interested spectators saw him lift up the coon.
“The poor thing’s half starved,” he said. “Let down a couple of coats, fellows, and pull him up. He’ll make a dandy camp mascot.”