In Which Fate Takes a Hand

Four days later Tad and Ben sat before the log-fire at the inn talking over plans for the future development of the mine in Buffalo Park. Tad was telling Ben of his visit with Mrs. Thornton and what her wishes were in regard to the matter. It seemed that Mr. Williams was out of the city and had been gone for several days. Just where he was no one seemed to know, but as he had taken several such trips since the death of his wife, Mrs. Thornton did not think much of it. It had been decided that they would wait until Mr. Williams returned, at which time he would be given the opportunity to buy the entire mine at a fair price. But if he did not care to buy, the property was to be turned over to Tad for disposal or development, as he saw fit.

The cold weather had continued, and there had been no visitors at the inn for nearly a week. Tad and Ben were making some crude tests before the fire with the pieces of gold quartz Ben had brought from the tunnel. They were just in the middle of their crude assay when suddenly there was a loud knock on the outside door, accompanied by a series of low growls from Ben’s dog. The door was unceremoniously thrown open and a very much excited man stepped in. He made no apologies, but went directly to the point. He spoke between great breaths, and had evidently come from some distance at a good speed. He was completely exhausted, and as he spoke his eyes wandered aimlessly about the room.

“We’ve a devil of a mess,” he panted. “I don’t know how many hurt, but some of ’em are broken all to pieces. Come right away and bring what bandages you have. O, it’s a devil of a mess.”

Old Ben looked at the stranger bewilderedly. Tad jumped to his feet, alert in a second. “Devil of a mess where, man? What’s wrong? Who’s hurt?” The stranger’s voice failed him, and all he could do was to point his finger in the direction of the canyon and make signs for them to hurry. Ben pushed him into a chair by the fire, and in a little while they had his story:

The new tunnel on the old Iron Dyke had caved in without a moment’s notice. There were seven men locked in by a wall of fallen rock. Whether they had been crushed or not was hard to tell. The stranger had not been in the tunnel at the time of the accident, but had gone to the stream for water. Upon returning, he discovered the cave-in. He had come at once for help, realizing that a single man would be useless at the mine.

In a short time the three had the old horse packed and were on the trail. The snow was deep and progress slow. As they walked up the trail the stranger described the appearance of the fallen rock as best he could. He told them that they had been working the tunnel as fast as possible and that they had not been as careful as they should have been about propping the ceiling. He said they had struck considerable water, and that the black rock seemed to have been previously loosened by some great force, for it was cracked in every direction. They had been spending the day putting in temporary props, and the boss had been there superintending the job. He had been urging the men on harder every day, as he seemed so anxious to get the tunnel in to a certain point with the least possible delay. The boss had in mind something very definite, however, for he often referred to a certain sketch which he always carried in his pocket book. The miner declared he had seen the boss make calculations many times, after he had measured the depth of the tunnel.

“Yes, the boss was in the mine, too had been there all day. It might be that he is dead this moment, for all I know,” said the stranger. From his description of the boss, Tad guessed that it was no other than Mr. Williams himself.

When the mine was reached, operations were at once commenced to remove the fallen stones. Tad took command, and several times he thought he heard the sound of hammering from the other side but, perhaps, after all it was only an echo. After a careful examination, it was decided that all the loose rock had fallen, and that to remove it was not dangerous. They began work at the top in order to make a hole big enough to reach the men. They had not worked long when they heard sounds from the other side. They were not all dead at least, and if they could but get to them before they suffocated all would be well. The imprisoned miners evidently understood the plan of action, for the sounds from the other side indicated that they, too, were working at the top of the wall. By night a small opening was made and messages exchanged. There were seven men inside one dead, two very badly hurt, and the others bruised and cut, but able to help themselves. Water and hot food were passed to them, then the work of rescue was taken up in earnest. Mr. Williams had a fractured leg and was unconscious, but was still living. Instead of rushing to the solid wall end of the tunnel, where he would have been comparatively safe, at the first sign of danger he had rushed toward the entrance with one other man, and had been struck down by the falling stone. If he had started out thirty seconds sooner, he would have been crushed to death, as his companion was.

Late that night a large enough hole had been made to move the wounded men out. Tad was the first to enter, and the first man to be brought out was Williams. Tad picked him up in his great strong arms and tenderly carried him to the cabin. By midnight the broken leg was dressed and the cuts and bruises bandaged. Tad proved as good a nurse as he was a miner. As he worked over Williams a great pity filled his heart, for Tad knew only too well that he had been anything but a happy man.

The tunnel had been driven very rapidly without proper trussing, and it seemed to Tad that the entire dyke must have been shaken by the blasts that had caused Mr. Thornton’s death years before. Without a second’s notice the shaly rock had given a little, then caved in. It seemed a strange turn of fate to Tad that the same blast that had taken away his partner many years ago had now probably taken away his only enemy. With these thoughts came an intense hatred for the mine and a tender pity for the man that had so wronged him. Tad had put his body to a tremendous test, and every nerve and every muscle was fairly tingling, so he drew up a chair to the bedside and rested. In a little while Mr. Williams became conscious, but on recognizing Tad at his bedside he slipped back again into unconsciousness, muttering strange, broken apologies and begging for mercy. Tad thanked God as he sat there that night that he had never harmed a brother man willfully and that his life had always been, at least to the best of his ability, on the square.

Then he began to think rapidly. Perhaps Williams was near the end. He feared the bad cut on his head might prove fatal. What if he should die and have no chance to talk, no chance to square himself with those that he had wronged? Accordingly he made him as comfortable as he could, and after telling Ben his plan, he hurriedly ate a little food, went out into the night and down the trail.

Willis was awakened early in the morning by a furious pounding on the door. He rose and hurried down. Tad fairly tumbled into the room. He informed Willis just what had happened, and told him to get ready to go with him at once. A doctor was called, a cab ordered, and in a little while the three were hastening back toward Bruin Inn. With all their speed, however, the morning was well-spent before they reached the little shanty again. The doctor made a careful examination and declared Williams in a very critical condition. The broken leg was reset, the cuts dressed and sewed up. Then began the preparations to remove him out of the mountains to a hospital. It seemed very strange to Tad to be again building a crude stretcher from aspen poles and blankets, but by night they had placed him in the hospital and he was sleeping.

It was a long night of strange thoughts and fancies for Willis as he sat by his uncle’s bedside. He was too bewildered by all the strange events of the last fortnight to be able to think logically. His admiration for Tad had grown until it knew no bounds, and his pity for his uncle had increased until all the hardness had disappeared from his heart and he was sorry for him. He hoped with all his might that he would yet live.

In the early morning Willis was awakened by his uncle’s hand being placed on his. The injured man was looking up into his face. He closed his eyes again and was silent a long while. When he opened them again he spoke falteringly:

“I’m very sorry, son,” he began. “I’ve been wrong, so wrong all along the way. I’ve never been square. I have fought the Fates every day of my life, and now I’m whipped.” He smiled a little, weak smile. “What a fool a man is,” he continued. “Willis, I’m going to slip off very soon, now, and I have so much I want to say to you.” He half arose. “Are we alone?” Willis told him that they were, but urged him not to talk. He was determined.

“I have played a desperate game, and I have lost. I’m sorry for my mistakes. I have wronged Tad and you the most, for I have wanted your father’s mine. I was jealous of your father’s favor. Now I know I did not deserve it. I got your mother’s reply to Tad’s letter long ago. It was sent in my care, and I read it. It decided me, for it all looked so easy. There’s money in the mine, son, and Tad is here somewhere. He will tell you all. Tell him for me that I am sorry.” He closed his eyes, and in a moment was gone.

Willis hurried home to his mother, and together they held a long conference, and many things were accounted for.

It was at the little cabin that Willis found his greatest pleasure, and already Ham and himself were planning a new and more pretentious Lodge to take the place of Buffalo Roost, for the next Buffalo Roost was to be a memorial camp built in honor of Tad Kieser, gentleman, and Mr. William Thornton.

Willis had found the cabin, and the cabin with its stanch, good friendships, the healthful work together, and the unselfish leadership of the right sort of men, had helped him find his best self in thoughtful service for others. Surely no better thing ever comes to the life of a boy.