Dick Hamilton's Fortune Part 34

In a little while Tim and Frank joined him. They found they were standing in a sort of cave, hollowed out under ground. Resting at the foot of the shaft was a big bucket, attached to the wire cable that extended to the hoisting drum.

"Is dis all dere is to de mine?" asked Tim.

"No, there seems to be a gallery leading off to no one knows where,"

replied d.i.c.k, pointing to a gloomy hole. "Come on, boys, I haven't seen any gold yet," and he waved his candle to and fro. It flickered over the rocky walls of the mine. They glistened with water that oozed from many crevices, but there was no glitter of the precious metal.

The boys walked cautiously along the gallery, or tunnel, that extended at right angles to the perpendicular shaft. Suddenly, d.i.c.k, who was in the lead, stopped short.

"Hus.h.!.+" he exclaimed, in a whisper. "I hear voices."

The boys listened. From somewhere in the darkness ahead of them came an indistinct murmur.

"Come ahead, easy!" whispered the millionaire's son.

They advanced on tiptoes. The murmur of voices became louder. Then, as the boys made a turn in the tunnel, a strange scene was suddenly presented to them.

In a sort of cave, formed by the widening of the gallery, a number of men stood in a group. Several torches, stuck into cracks in the rocky wall, gave light. But, strangest of all, was the occupation of the men.

One of them was stirring what seemed like a ma.s.s of mortar in a wooden box, such as masons use. Into it another was pouring from a sack, gleaming, golden, yellow particles, which, as the light gleamed on them, glittered like gold.

"Seems like throwing the yellow stuff away," remarked the man who held the sack.

"What of it. We'll get it back five times over," replied the one who, with a hoe, was stirring the stuff. "It's like planting gold in a garden. It grows, you know. This mine is our garden."

"They're 'salting' the mine," whispered d.i.c.k to his companions.

Off to one side another man was drilling holes in the soft rock. The musical clink of his hammer on the drill sounded faint and far off, so m.u.f.fled was it.

"Haven't you got that stuff ready yet?" called the man with the drill.

"I've got all the holes bored. Hurry up and get it in or it won't be hard by to-morrow, and there's no telling when that Hamilton kid may take a notion to drop in and visit his mine," and he laughed.

"Oh, I guess I can keep him away for a few days yet," answered one, whom d.i.c.k recognized as Forty-niner Smith. "I've got a game I haven't played.

But I guess this stuff is mixed enough. Say, it's the best scheme I've struck yet for 'sweating' a mine. Beats the shotguns all to pieces."

From their hiding place the boys watched what the men did. The mixture with the gold particles in it was poured into the holes the man had dug.

The boys could see now that it was not mortar, but concrete, which was being used. To d.i.c.k the whole scheme was now plain.

The men poured a lot of gold dust into some concrete, and mixed it up with water until it was about as thick as paste. Then they put it into holes drilled in the rocky walls of the mine. The concrete hardened and became almost like the rock itself. Then, when a blast was set off, the rock, concrete and gold was all blown into small pieces, so that it looked as if the ore was of good, gold-bearing quality, whereas it was nothing but ordinary rock "salted."

That was how the men were working to fool investors. They had taken an abandoned mine, from which all the gold had been dug, and, by this ingenious method, made it look, to the ignorant, as though it was a regular bonanza.

"Well," remarked d.i.c.k, in a whisper, "we've discovered the trick. I guess dad's money and mine, too, is 'gone up the flume,' as the miners say. But I'm glad----"

At that moment, Frank, who was balancing himself on a bit of rock, in order to see better, stumbled and fell, making quite a noise. The men turned as if a shot had been fired.

"What's that?" asked Smith, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Some loose rock caving in," answered one of the men. "Come on, finish up. We've only got one more hole to fill, and by that time Nash will be ready to hoist us up."

"That wasn't falling rock!" declared Smith. "Boys, I believe someone is spying on us. I'm going to take a look."

Seizing one of the torches he started toward where d.i.c.k and his companions were hiding.

"Come on!" exclaimed the millionaire's son, pulling Tim and Frank by the arm. "We've got to get out of this!"

They turned and ran, their footsteps echoing on the rocky floor of the mine. They could hear Smith coming after them. His torch flashed around the turn in the gallery. He caught sight of them.

"Stop!" he cried. "Stop or I'll shoot!"

CHAPTER XXVI

SIMON'S CONFESSION

d.i.c.k gave a hurried look behind him. He could see something s.h.i.+ning in Smith's hand--something that the light from the torch glinted on.

"Keep on!" hoa.r.s.ely whispered Tim. "He can't hit us down here. Keep on!"

Stumbling, almost falling, their candles showing but faint blue points of light as the flame flickered away from the wicks because of their speed, the boys ran toward the bottom of the shaft.

"If we reach the ladder I think we can get away," said Frank, panting from his exertion.

It seemed as if it was a mile back to the shaft, but it was only a few hundred feet. The boys expected every minute to hear the shot ring out.

They caught the sounds of the footfalls of their pursuer and they sounded nearer and nearer. He was familiar with the gallery and his torch gave him better light to go by than did the candles give the boys.

Once more the angry miner's voice called:

"Hold on, whoever you are, or I'll shoot!"

"Quick! There's the shaft!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, pointing to where the big bucket rested at the bottom of the opening.

The boys made a rush for it. At the same instant a shot rang out in the darkness, the flash from the revolver lighting up the mine cavern with sudden glare. They could hear the bullet strike far above their heads with a vicious "ping!" Clearly, Smith was only firing to scare them, and did not want to run any chances of hurting them, as he had aimed high.

Then a strange thing happened. The cable, attached to the bucket, began to wind upward. There was considerable slack to it and the bucket did not immediately follow. It was evident that the machinery at the shaft mouth had started and that the ore-carrier was about to be hoisted up.

An inspiration came to d.i.c.k.

"Into the bucket!" he called. "It's big enough to hold us all and we'll be hauled to the top! We can escape that way!"

Tim and Frank needed no further urging. They clambered over the iron sides of the bucket, followed by d.i.c.k. And not a second too soon, for, as he set his feet on the iron bottom, the cable tauted and the bucket started upward.

"Come back here!" yelled Smith, reaching the bottom of the shaft just in time to see the conveyor disappearing. He made an ineffectual grab for it, but, as his torch flared up when he threw it on the ground, the better to use his hands, d.i.c.k, looking over the edge of the iron receptacle, saw that the ugly miner was fifteen feet below them.

"Pull your head in!" advised Frank. "He might shoot!"

But Smith had no such intentions. Making a sort of megaphone of his hands, he shouted up the shaft: