Johnny, with his long experience as a soldier in eastern Russia, was able to tell them frankly that there would be practically no chance of obtaining a concession of any value from the uncertain government that existed in that region.
They had called in their lawyers, who advised that they proceed to work the mines on the old concession, given them by the Czar. “The concession,” they explained, “does not expire until January, 1925. That being the case, it still holds good, even though the government has changed hands, just as a lease to bore for oil on a certain farm would hold good even though the farm changed hands.”
“Yes,” the rich representatives of the Big Five had smiled, “but there is a royalty of 25 per cent which was to have been paid to the Czar. Now it should go to the people. But how? To whom should this now be paid?”
At this juncture, Johnny had one of his occasional inspirations.
“Leave that to me,” he had exclaimed. “Make me foreman of the enterprise and every ounce and penny’s worth of that royalty will go to relieve the sufferings of those freezing, starving, and naked refugees I saw pouring into Vladivostok from the interior by tens of thousands. You appoint one person and send that person over to assist the Red Cross in distributing the benefits and I will get the gold down to them, never fear.”
“Good!” one of the rich men had exclaimed.
“And, just to show you we’re with you, we’ll make it 35 per cent.”
Now, Johnny remembered all of that. He remembered too how he had picked his miners, and his crew for the big gasoline schooner which was to bring them to the scene of their labors, and his two air men who were to man their emergency transportation—an airplane. He remembered with what high hopes he had landed on those bleak shores and had taken up the task of making his men comfortable for the long winter. Only yesterday the housing work had been completed, and to-day, while the other laborers were going over the rusted machinery, he had sent his best man, Langlois, into the most promising looking mine to discover the conditions there. The man had not returned. After four hours of waiting, he had called to Pant, and together they had entered the mine. They had found that death had already broken through their guard.
“Let him lie as he is,” Johnny said to his companion. “We will bring in the doctor and two other men. This is a land without law. There will be no coroner’s inquest. That is all the more reason why we must be careful to avoid all appearance of foul play. When men are ‘on their own’ everything must be done in the open.”
Before turning toward the mouth of the mine, he cast one sweeping glance about the place. Beyond the body there was a pool of water. It was evident that a warm spring must enter the place near this shallow pool, for the walls on all sides were white with frost. In the middle of this pool, driven into the earth was a pick. It was rusty and its handle was slimy with dampness. Close to the end of the handle were the marks of a man’s fingers where his firm grip had ground off particles of the black rot. It seemed evident that the pick had lain on the floor of the mine, that Langlois had taken it up and driven it into the earth which had been softened by the water. Then death must have come, for he lay not three feet from the handle of the pick.