During the first five minutes after he was locked in the short drift, Sam Thorpe gave himself up to unreasoning anger.  He threw himself again and again upon the timbers as if believing it would be possible to force them apart, and shouted at the full strength of his lungs until he was literally unable to speak louder than a whisper.

Then recognizing the uselessness of such proceedings, he sat down to think over the matter calmly.

“If Fred succeeded in giving the alarm, I’m not in very much danger of being drowned out,” he said to himself; “but if he was caught I can count on dying in about two hours.”

With this mental speech came the assurance that he had yet a hundred and twenty minutes in which to fight for life, and he resolved not to waste a single second.

The lamp in his cap gave sufficient light for a thorough examination of his prison, and it was soon made.  A solid wall of earth and slate surrounded him, the only outlet was through the doors, which were of planks and thickly studded with nails that they might be strong enough to resist a heavy pressure of water.

His only weapon was a stout pocket knife; but even with a saw he could not have cut his way through.

The hinges were next examined.  They were fastened to large joists which in turn had been set firmly into the strata of slate.

The only weak point he could find was where the two doors came together, and the flat bolt was exposed.  Its entire width and about an inch of its length could be seen thickly covered with rust, and here Sam decided to direct his efforts.

“There isn’t much chance I can cut it through in two hours,” he said; “but it’s better to work than lay still thinking of what may happen.”

Breaking the stoutest blade of his knife he began with the jagged surface to scratch at the iron.  While cutting through the rust his progress was reasonable rapid; but on firm metal was very much like filing a boiler plate with a pin.

Then the blade of his knife was worn smooth, and he broke off another piece, repeating the operation until the steel had been used to the hilt.

The bolt was cut nearly half through; but as he judged, two hours must have passed.

“If they succeed in flooding the mine I shall still be a prisoner when the water comes,” he muttered, and at that moment he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Two or more had come from the direction of the shaft, and halted near the door.

“It’s no use to try and fight our way into the drift through the hole,” he heard one of the new-comers say, and recognized the voice as that of Cale Billings.

“Are you goin’ to give up beat!”

“Not much.  Inside of an hour we’ll have fifty men here, and while the fools think we are trying to get in by the slope a tunnel can be made from one of the smaller cuttings.”

“What good will that do?”

“If I ain’t mistaken we shall come out on the second level where it’ll be no more than child’s play to get the best of both crowds.”

“But suppose Wright has sent for soldiers?  I heard he telegraphed to the governor.”

“We’ll be in possession of the mine, an’ I reckon they’ll be willin’ to make terms with us, for a regiment couldn’ drive us out.”

“Well, what are you stoppin’ here for?”

“I want to see where that boy is.  We mustn’t lose him yet awhile.”

“He’s in here.”

“An’ I reckon he’ll stay till we want him,” Billings replied with a laugh, after apparently examining the bolt.

Then the two men passed on, and Sam began his slow task again.  Hope was strong in his breast, for he knew from the conversation that Fred had succeeded in warning the miners.

He used the small blade, and it wore away so quickly that there could be no chance it would last to complete the work.

“If I could get a purchase on the door it might be broken open now the bolt is cut so much,” he said, looking around once more.

Near the uprights was an extra piece of joist standing on end as if forming a portion of the side.

The floor of the cutting was full of irregularities where the slate had been broken or taken out, and this gave him the opportunity to get the required purchase.

With one end of the joist pressed firmly against a slight elevation, and the other on the doors just over the bolt, he clambered up until near the top, when all his weight and strength were brought into play.

Once, twice, he swayed up and down, and then inch by inch the metal yielded until the heavy timbers swung outward, and he was free so far as liberty of movement in the drift was concerned.

At the moment when he emerged there was no one in the passage, and he hurriedly re-closed the doors that his escape might not be discovered by those who should pass.

After some difficulty he succeeded in pushing the broken piece of iron into the sockets in such a manner that a casual observer would hardly notice anything wrong, and then, extinguishing the light in his cap, he went swiftly toward the shaft, arriving there just as half a dozen men were on the point of descending.

Crouching against the wall at one corner the new-comers failed to notice him; but it was impossible to ascend the rope ladder which had been let down, without attracting attention, because of the numbers who continued to arrive at irregular intervals.

During an hour he waited, shrouded from view by the gloom, and then came the desired opportunity.

Two men returned from the further end of the drift, and ascended the ladder.

“I’ll follow them and run the risk of being recognized,” he said to himself, and suiting the action to the words he climbed the network of rope immediately behind the second rioter.

It was twilight when he arrived at the surface, and Billings’ forces were building a row of fires directly in front of the slope.

To start toward the village immediately would be to take too many chances of detection, and Sam loitered on the outskirts of the crowd watching for the desired opportunity, which came when Fred left the slope to carry Donovan’s message to Mr. Wright.

Instantly the alarm was given Sam started in pursuit, accompanied by a dozen others, and only by outstripping the rioters could he hope to make his escape.

Fred ran as he had never done before, with the howling mob at his heels, and foremost among them was Sam.  Two men were in advance of the escaping prisoner; but by an apparent misstep while he ran alongside the second, the rioter was overturned, and but one remained; the others being so far in the rear as not to count in the chase.

Fred glanced over his shoulder now and then; but the darkness prevented him from recognizing his friend until the latter deliberately threw himself in front of the pursuer, and a tumble was the result.

“Keep on it’s me - Sam!” the butty boy shouted, as he scrambled to his feet before the man had fully recovered his senses, and with a cry of glad surprise, Fred asked: 

“How did you get away?”

“It’s too long a story to tell now when we need all our breath.  Are you trying to reach home?”

“No; the store.”

“Then you know what Billings’ crowd are intendin’ to do.”

“Yes, and help is needed at once.”

Sam made no reply.  Both the men he had over-thrown were on their feet again, and, with a dozen others, were close in the rear, making every effort to overtake the fugitives.

The race was virtually won, however, unless other rioters were met on the road.  The boys yet had thirty or forty yards the advantage, and before this could be overcome they were within sight of the store, from which, attracted by the shouts, came Mr. Wright and a number of employees.

All of these latter were armed, and the pursuers halted at a respectful distance, while the boys dashed into the building breathless and nearly exhausted.

It was several moments before Fred could repeat the message Donovan had sent, and this was hardly done when a message from the governor arrived, stating that no troops could be sent until the following day.

“I’m afraid those at the mine will have to take care of themselves,” Mr. Wright said, when he learned of the condition of affairs there.  “If we should leave here, or even divide our force, the store as well as the offices might be sacked.”

“But the mine will be flooded if Billings succeeds with the tunnel.”

“It can’t be helped now.  We should need, at least, fifty men to effect an entrance, and eighteen is the full number who can be trusted.”

“Those who are there may be drowned.”

“There is no danger of that since all hands are on the alert for the first signs of trouble.”

“Then Sam and I may as well go home.”

“It would be a good idea to tell Brace that he must try to get here unobserved.  The men already believe he is in town, and I am afraid they may discover his hiding place, when there’s bound to be mischief done.”

Disheartened, because after incurring all the danger no real good had been done, Fred motioned to Sam, and left the store.

The streets of the village presented an unusual appearance.  Nearly every house was open and lighted as if for a general illumination, while the sidewalks were crowded with throngs of excited women and children.

“This would be a good time for Skip to pay you off,” Sam said, as they walked swiftly along.  “While so much is goin’ on they could do pretty near as they pleased without fear of being stopped.”

“What he might do seems to be of little consequence compared with the danger which threatens the poor fellows at the mine.  If the lower level should be flooded while they were guarding the drift there’s every chance all would be drowned.”

“It don’t do to think of such things when there’s nothing which can be done to help them.  It might be worse, an’ there’s some comfort in that.”

“I fail to see anything very cheering in such an idea,” Fred replied, and then the two were at Mrs. Byram’s home.

The door was locked; but the lightest of taps sufficed to attract the widow’s attention, and the visitor received no less warm a reception than did the son.

Brace was so impatient to learn what had been done by the rioters that he descended the stairs immediately upon hearing the boys’ voices, and while Mrs. Byram prepared supper, Fred and Sam gave an account of their own adventures, as well as all which was known concerning the mob.

“So I’m to sneak over to the store, eh?” the miner asked, as the recital was concluded.

“That was what Mr. Wright said.”

“I’ll do nothin’ of the kind.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve had enough of hidin’ like a fellow who had done somethin’ wrong.”

“But it isn’t safe to show yourself.”

“I’ll take the chances, an’ see what Billings’ gang can do.”

“Don’t think of such a thing,” Mrs. Byram cried in alarm.  “You might be killed.”

“A fellow who has worked a matter of half a dozen years at Farley’s can’t be knocked out so easy.”

“Are you going into the street?”

“Yes, an’ to the mine if I take the notion.”

“What could you do alone against two or three hundred men?”

“Show that there is one fellow who ain’t afraid of the whole murderin’ gang.”

“That would be the height of foolishness.”

“I can’t help it,” was the dogged reply, and Brace rose to his feet as if to leave the house.

Both Sam and Fred sprang up to detain him; but before a word could be spoken by either, angry shouts and cries were heard in the distance.

“They are up to fresh mischief,” Sam exclaimed, as he cautiously pulled back the curtains to look out.

“There are a dozen of the rioters on the sidewalk,” he cried, “and they are evidently watching us.”

Brace ran to Sam’s side, and the instant he showed himself some of the men shouted: 

“Here’s the traitor!  We’ve got him caged!”

“String him up!”

“Yank him out so’s the bosses can see how we treat spies!”

These cries were echoed by the body of men who were approaching on a run, and Mrs. Byram said, as she drew Brace from the window: 

“They have learned you are here, and in their mad excitement murder may be committed.”

Then came from the street as if to give emphasis to her words: 

“Hang him!  Hang him!  He’s worse than the bosses!”

“You must go to the store now,” Sam cried.

“What’s the good?  They will get in there as easily as here.”

“Mr. Wright and his men are well armed and can protect you.”

“There has been no shootin’ done yet, an’ I’ll not be the cause of the first bullet.  It is better to give myself up at once.”

“You shall not,” and Sam clasped the miner around the waist.  “Try the back door; it will be possible to give them the slip if you hurry.”

Brace hesitated a moment as if unwilling to display anything which might be mistaken for cowardice, and then Fred and Sam literally forced him toward the door.

“While you run I will attract the attention of the men,” Mrs. Byram said, as she showed herself at the window, and the miner sprang out at the very instant when half a dozen of the rioters entered the gate.

“Tryin’ to give us the slip, eh?” one of the party cried, as all rushed forward.

It was too late for Brace to return; in a twinkling the men had surrounded him.  Fred and Sam saw a short but sharp struggle, and before they could so much as make a move toward going to his assistance he was overpowered.

Attracted by the cries of their companions, those at the front of the house came around swiftly, and Brace was half carried, half forced into the street.

Mrs. Byram tried to plead with the mob; but they pushed her aside without ceremony as they shouted: 

“We’ll show them at the store how we deal with spies and traitors.”

“We’ve got the rope and the sneak, now we only need two or three of the bosses to fix the thing up brown.”

“Do you suppose they really mean to hang him?” Fred asked in a tone of awe, and Sam replied sadly: 

“I’m afraid they will.  Billings always was down on him, and the men are so excited as to hardly know what they are about, so anything is possible.”