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CAMERTON SLOPE 
 
 A STORY OF MINING LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 RE^V. R. K. BISHOR 
 
 OF XH^ OHIO CONKERENCB 
 
 CINCINNATI: CRANSTON & CURTS. 
 NEW YORK: HUNT & EATON. 
 
 1893 
 
Copyright 
 By CRANSTON & qURTS, 
 
P^EF^SE. 
 
 THE writer of the following pages was reared 
 in a mining community, and at an early 
 age entered the mines as a driver. What is re- 
 corded in these chapters may serve as the token 
 of his abiding sympathy and true, brotherly 
 feeling for all who toil in any capacity in the 
 darkness and danger of underground life. After 
 a somewhat extended acquaintance with men in 
 various departments of life and labor, the author 
 wishes here to record the fact that he has found 
 no more genial and lasting friendships, no truer, 
 sturdier types of manhood, no loftier ideals of 
 pure Christian character, than among his chums 
 and associates of *^auld lang syne." 
 
 The facts relating to the Mollie Maguire con- 
 
 M12029 
 
4 Preface. 
 
 spiracy are derived in part from the current 
 news of that day, but chiefly from the record of 
 the court proceedings, and from Allan Pinker- 
 ton's narrative of the part taken by his organ- 
 ization in hunting down this *' midnight, dark- 
 lantern, murderous-minded fraternity." 
 
 R. F. BISHOP. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Mac Castile and Archie Atkins 9 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 Tim McCoy and Sam Smallwood 17 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 The New Driver, 27 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Jerry Coulehan, 37 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Triai., 46 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Another Change in the South Entry, 55 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Night-scuooi., 66 
 
 5 
 
6 CONTEJS/TS, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Disturbance Begins, 76 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Searching for the Enemy, 84 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Caught in their Own Trap, 93 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Schooi, CIvOSES, and Work Begins, . 103 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 The Camerton Literary and Debating Society, . . hi 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A Calamity in the South Entry 121 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 The Quick and the Dead, 131 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Mingled Hope and Fear, 142 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Incidents of the Working and Waiting, 151 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Discovery— Joy and Sorrow, 161 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Care for the Living— Burial of the Dead, 170 
 
Contents. 7 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Page. 
 
 The; Rescued Party Tei,i, THEIR Story, • • 179 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Story of the Rescued Party Continued, 189 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Taking Up the Oi^d Life Again, 201 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 The Strike, 211 
 
 CHAPTe:r XXIII. 
 Some Account of the Moi,i,ie Maguires, 223 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 The Leaders of the Opposition, 232 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 A Discovery in the West Entry, 243 
 
 CHAPTER XXVL 
 The Session of the Inner Councii,, 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIL 
 The Young Detectives 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 Father Rafferty, 274 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 Another Meeting at the Big Meadow, 284 
 
8 Contents. 
 
 CHAPTRR XXX. 
 
 Page, 
 
 Thp: Rf:sui,t of thr Confkrenck, 294 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 Further Devei^opmknts, 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 JliRRY COUI.EHAN AND HIS ThREE " BOYS," 314 
 
 jixixUST^^Tlo^s. 
 
 Caijjng the Rorjy, Frontispiece. 
 
 Dragon Pursuing thp: Thieves, .... Faciug page 24 
 
 Jerry Coui^ehan Recounting his I^osses, " 39 
 
 Jerry Coui^ehan at the Bi^ackboard, . , " 76 
 
 S11.AS ascending the Tower, " 92 
 
 "Hush!" " 168 
 
 Shryock and Archie in the Mine, ... " 192 
 
 The SIvOpe Barricaded, " 213 
 
 Archie in the Oi.d Mine, " 253 
 
 SiivAS Discovers Tim, " 273 
 
Camerton Slope. 
 
 MAC CASTLE AND ARCHIE ATKINS. 
 
 IN the coal-basin of Western Pennsylvania, 
 ^ near the point where the noisy John's Creek 
 tnmbles with a kind of reckless haste out of the 
 narrow valley which has confined it for several 
 miles, two boys were leisurely working their 
 way up the uncertain path that led to the top 
 of the rugged mountain which bore the same 
 name. The ascent was difficult, and in places, 
 wliere the mountain presented its rocky ribs 
 with perpendicular and defiant attitude in the 
 face of the traveler, it was quite dangerous, and 
 only a doubtful hold could be had for the hands 
 and feet in the effort to climb. The path was trav- 
 eled only by hunters and the more adventurous 
 
 9 
 
Tb'- • ,* Camerton Slope. 
 
 of the young men and boys who liked the excite- 
 ment of such a trip, or who wished to save the 
 time required to reach the same point by the 
 long laps and windings of the county road. 
 
 ''Now, Archie, you go first," said the older of 
 the two boys, when they came to the most diffi- 
 cult place in the ascent ; "you go first, and I'll 
 come behind, and catch you if you slip." 
 
 There was scarcely more than a year's differ- 
 ence in the age of the two boys, but the differ- 
 ence in size was very considerable. McKenzie 
 Castle, the speaker, was fifteen years old. He 
 was taller and of heavier build than his younger 
 companion, Archie Atkins. 
 
 The place where they now were was known 
 as " the Welshman's Pass." It was a very steep 
 and narrow passageway between perpendicular, 
 high walls on either hand. The bottom surface 
 had a sort of glassy smoothness, on which it was 
 impossible to stand, and the ordinary method of 
 making the ascent was by bracing the body 
 against the walls, and making use of every little 
 crevice and unevenness where the crawler could 
 get a hold with his hands to assist his body for- 
 ward. The two adventurers had gotten about 
 half-way through the pass when, all at once, they 
 were greeted with a shower of pebbles and small 
 stones that descended from the top of the pass, 
 accompanied with shouts of derisive laughter 
 
Mac Castle and Archie Atkins. i i 
 
 and the sound of scampering feet, which plainly 
 told that the authors of this unprovoked assault 
 wished to remain undiscovered. 
 
 *' Archie, are you hit?" cried Mac. 
 
 ''Yes," was the response; "but I guess I'm 
 not much hurt." 
 
 This was bravely said, but the upturned face 
 of the speaker was bleeding from a considerable 
 gash made by a sharp stone. Mac had been 
 struck too, about the shoulders and back, but 
 was very little hurt. It was w^ell that he was 
 able to give some assistance to his companion; 
 for Archie was pretty well stunned by the blows 
 upon his head and face. 
 
 " I '11 bet I know the scalawags that did that," 
 said Mac ; " and if I find 'em when I get out of 
 here, I '11 wax 'em good. They might 'a' killed 
 us both in here, and we couldn't do a thing to 
 help ourselves." 
 
 A few minutes later the boys were out of the 
 Pass, and sharply looking about them on the 
 higher ground; above ; but no trace of their 
 assailants was visible, and as the innumerable 
 rocks at no great distance afforded so many safe 
 hiding-places, it seemed a sheer waste of time to 
 search for them. So they sat down on the little 
 patch of green to rest and enjoy the rugged 
 grandeur of the scene before them. 
 
 It was not often that they had such an oppor- 
 
12 Camerton Slope. 
 
 tunity. Their daily work in the mine knew no 
 cessation for months at a time, unless some hol- 
 iday season, or an unlooked-for accident, gave 
 them a day or two of freedom. It was to the 
 breaking of the wire rope, which drew the loaded 
 coal-cars out of the mine, that they were in- 
 debted for the chance of the present excursion. 
 The entrance to the Camerton mine, in which 
 the boys worked, was by a slope, or a steep de- 
 scent into the earth. A powerful engine, sta- 
 tioned a few rods from the mouth of the slope, 
 drew the loaded cars of coal out of the mine by 
 means of an endless wire rope, to which each sep- 
 arate car was attached by means of a clutch. 
 The rope, after coiling about various big pulleys 
 in the engine-house, re-entered the mine, taking 
 with it the empty cars upon another track par- 
 allel with the one occupied by the loaded cars, 
 so that the empty cars entering the mines, passed 
 close beside the loaded ones coming out. 
 
 The breaking of the rope, which occurred the 
 evening before, had precipitated half a dozen of 
 the loaded mine-cars back again down the steep 
 grade, with a violence that caused them to leave 
 the track as the rope became coiled about the 
 wheels. Several of the cars were piled one 
 upon the other, just as sometimes happens in a 
 wreck or collision between two railroad trains. 
 Happily, no one was hurt. All that night and 
 
Mac Castle and Archie Atkins. 13 
 
 all the next day were occupied in clearing up 
 the wreck, splicing the broken rope, and putting 
 things to rights, so the mining could go on again 
 as usual. This breathing spell of one day was 
 greatly enjoyed by the several hundred men and 
 boys employed in the Camerton mine. While 
 the seniors worked their gardens, and did up the 
 various chores about home, or simply enjoyed 
 the grateful rest, the boys in' general went fish- 
 ing and swimming, or roamed the country over, 
 after the manner of Mac Castle and Archie At- 
 kins. 
 
 The two boys were amply repaid for their 
 struggle up the mountain, in the scene which 
 met their view as they seated themselves on the 
 inviting mossy cushions which decorated the 
 rocks above the Welshman's Pass. Hundreds of 
 feet below them in the valley, the rapid little 
 stream glittering in the sunlight, as it threaded 
 its way among the rocks, assumed the appear- 
 ance of a serpent hastening to overtake his prey, 
 while the sharp yet regular slope of the oppo- 
 site mountain was lined from bottom to top with 
 a thick covering of rocks, which seemed to have 
 been broken to a given size, and dumped from 
 the crown of the mountain so as to cover from 
 view almost every foot of earth, and afford 
 scarcely a single spot for verdure. Yet in spite 
 of this seeming purpose, a scrubby pine here 
 
14 Camertoisi Slope. 
 
 and there struggled upward througli the rocks, 
 and persisted in its right to live. At the head 
 of the valley northward, the mining village of 
 Camerton, where they lived, lay half concealed 
 among the trees, which formed a kind of grove 
 at the entrance of the village. 
 
 '*Mac," said Archie, after they had feasted 
 their eyes awhile on the familiar yet ever in- 
 viting scene before them, "what are you going 
 to do with yourself when you get older? Are 
 you always going to stay in the mines?" 
 
 ''Don't know as I've thought much about it, 
 Archie. What else is there for a fellow to do?" 
 
 ''There's lots of room in this big world for 
 other people besides miners," said the younger 
 boy, as he looked abstractedly across to the op- 
 posite mountain. 
 
 "Lots of room!" replied Mac. "Yes, that's 
 so; but there's plenty o' fellows crowdin' into 
 all the soft places, and there ain't no chance for 
 chaps like us." 
 
 "I 've been reading a story lately that's made 
 me think there's a chance for every fellow, if 
 he'll only take it," said Archie. 
 
 "I wish I liked to read as well as you do, 
 Archie." 
 
 "The story," continued the other, " was about 
 a boy that worked in a flour-mill — worked right 
 hard too, almost night and day. Got the mean- 
 
Mac Castle and Archie Atkins. 15 
 
 est kind of treatment from his boss, and could n^t 
 make anything like the wages we do in the 
 mines ; but he studied some in the mill, and 
 saved up his money till he had enough to take 
 him through school, and then he got to be a big 
 man." 
 
 '* That's what you'll do some day, Archie; 
 and I '11 be peggin' away in . these blamed old 
 mines. Wish I took to books and such things 
 just like you do. I was in school before you 
 was, but I didn't learn a thing till you came in 
 and helped me. I'll never forget the day you 
 first came. You wasn't any bigger than a tom- 
 tit, but you very soon knocked the spots off a 
 lot of us big fellows." 
 
 "I didn't do any more than you could have 
 done, Mac, if you had only stuck to it like I 
 did." 
 
 ''Yes, you did. You had a kind o' gift about 
 books that put you away ahead o' some o' the 
 rest of us, even if we'd done our best. But I 
 didn't like school, and I guess that's the reason 
 I fooled the time away like I did. I was glad 
 when pap let me go to work, but I 'm mighty 
 sorry I didn't get a little learnin' first." 
 
 "I've been thinking, Mac, that we might get 
 up a night-school. They have one over at 
 Hawksville, and lots of fellows go to it." 
 
 " Good enough," replied Mac; "but I'm afraid 
 
1 6 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 there isn't many chaps abont these diggin's that 
 would go to it. You might try your hand on 
 Tim McCoy and his gang. I '11 bet a quarter it 
 was some o' that crowd that put that beauty- 
 spot on your cheek just now. They need some 
 schoolin' mighty bad, they do." 
 
 After spending most of the afternoon in their 
 ramble, and eating their fill of blackberries that 
 grew so plentifully upon the almost inaccessible 
 heights, Mac and Archie descended the moun- 
 tain by the same path they had followed in go- 
 ing up. Passing by the mine, they learned that 
 the repairs were almost finished, and that work 
 would be resumed as usual the next morning. 
 
TIM MCCOY AND SAM SMALLWOOD. 
 
 ONE ot the notable characters of Camerton 
 was Pat McCoy, He had taken advan- 
 tage of his day off to begin another of his peri- 
 odical sprees. They didn't come as often as with 
 some of the other miners — sometimes for months 
 together Pat McCoy would not taste a drop of 
 liquor — but what his sprees lacked in frequency 
 was fully made up in their length and violence. 
 After a sober spell, one drink of Barney Dillon's 
 whisky was sufficient to overthrow the balance of 
 reason, and make him clamorous for more, and 
 each successive dram had power to stir to fiercer 
 depths the tide of angry and vindictive passion 
 which seemed to slumber in his sober periods. 
 
 Pat and a number of his cronies met at Bar- 
 ney Dillon's saloon about the middle of the fore- 
 noon, to spend the day after a fashion that had 
 become very common with them on holiday oc- 
 casions. 
 
 17 
 
1 8 Camerton Slope, 
 
 Tim McCoy was Pat's oldest son. He had 
 begun at an early age to walk in his father's 
 footsteps, and on this occasion was nDt long in 
 deciding how the idle day should be spent. Be- 
 fore breakfast he had called at Dillon's to get a 
 bottle of whisky. 
 
 "Now, Barney," said he, as he laid down the 
 money, "don't let the old man know anything 
 about this. He'll be after getting himself as 
 full as a tick to-day, but he'd take the hide off 
 me if he knowed I got this." 
 
 "Kape yersilf aisy about that, me boy," said 
 the man behind the bar, putting on his profes- 
 sional smile. " Niver a word will he know uv it." 
 
 Tim gathered up a few of his associates dur- 
 ing the morning, and arranged with them for a 
 trip on the mountain. 
 
 "Agreed," said Sam Smallwood, his particu- 
 lar friend. "Seein' that you've got the whisky, 
 Tim, I'll get the cigars, and we'll have a high 
 old time." 
 
 Three other boys were also invited, the young- 
 est of whom, Chris Fannon, evidently thought it 
 no small honor to be associated with daring 
 spirits like Tim McCoy and Sam Smallwood in 
 such an expedition. 
 
 In age and size there was little difference 
 between the two elder boys; but in all their 
 various schemes of amusement Tim McCoy 
 
Tim McCoy and Sam Smallwood. 19 
 
 was the real leader. He was tlie more fertile in 
 suggestion, nor was lie wanting in the rude cour- 
 age necessary to the execution of their common 
 plots. 
 
 " We '11 have lots o' fun out o' Chris to-day," 
 said Tim, aside to Sam, after they had started. 
 ''We'll make him as drunk as a fool. He's 
 fresh, he is ; he do n't know the taste uv whisky 
 from soda-water." 
 
 " Right you are," replied Sam with a laugh ; 
 '' we '11 go light ourselves, and let the small-fry 
 have a fillin' up that '11 do 'em good." 
 
 When they were well out of sight of the vil- 
 lage, the bottle was passed around, *' for refresh- 
 ment," as Sam ^said. Tim and Sam merely 
 tasted the liquor, and then passed the bottle on 
 to the others. 
 
 <« We Ve got a hard climb before us, Christy," 
 said Tim ; '' take a good pull, an' it '11 help ye. 
 Ye do n't want to be laggin' behind." 
 
 Chris drank to the satisfaction of his com- 
 rades, though the terrible stuff took his breath 
 away, and started the tears from his eyes. While 
 the party were resting at the top of the Welsh- 
 man's Pass, one of the boys cried out : 
 
 " There comes Arch Atkins and Mac Castle !" 
 
 " Them 's our enemies, gentlemen," said Tim, 
 as he rose up to get a good look at them. 
 '* lyCt 's prepare to give 'em a salute." So say- 
 
20 Camerton Slope. 
 
 ing, he gathered up a handful of stones, and his 
 example was followed by the others. 
 
 *' Fire when I give the word," said Tim, '' and 
 then fall back. We don't want the white- 
 livered puppies to know who done it." 
 
 The injuries inflicted were, as we have seen, 
 not very serious; but this was due to projections 
 in the walls of the Pass here and there, which 
 made it impossible to take aim. After finding 
 a secure place of retreat, overlooking the top of 
 the Pass, Sam called again for '* refreshments," 
 and the bottle made its second round. Aeain 
 the older boys merely put the bottle to their lips, 
 while they encouraged the younger ones to take 
 a hearty dram. Sam then passed the cigars, and 
 Tim and he began to air their jests at the ex- 
 pense of Chris Fannon and one of the other boys, 
 on whom the effect of the liquor began to be 
 visible. Chris became heavy and stupid, and 
 said but little. His sickly smile and ludicrous 
 attempt to reply to the sallies of his companions 
 drew forth repeated guffaws of laughter. The 
 other boy, who had imbibed equally with Chris, 
 was named Fritz Sypher. He became very hi- 
 larious and boisterous. He sang several songs, 
 and extemporized a few sentences at the end of 
 one of them in praise of the drink and of the 
 generous bounty of Tim and Sam, who had pro- 
 vided the entertainment for them. 
 
Tim McCoy and Sam Smallwood. 21 
 
 " Hurrah for Tim and Sam !" said the three 
 younger boys at the close of the song; *' hurrah! 
 hurrah ! hurrah!" 
 
 " Be quiet now wid yer hurrahin," said Tim, 
 with becoming modesty. " Do yez think we want 
 any praise for takin' a hand in yer edication ?" 
 
 " We Ve bin in this bizness a good while 
 afore to-day," interposed Sam, " and brought out 
 lots o' young cubs." 
 
 This was said with a kind of severe dignity, 
 well calculated to impress the juveniles with a 
 sense of the importance of the two leaders. 
 
 "Now, boys, listen to me," said Tim, as he 
 puffed vigorously at the stump of his cigar. 
 "Over beyont the ridge there, about a mile," 
 pointing with his hand, " old Jerry Coulehan, 
 that used to work along side us in the slope, is car- 
 ryin' on a bit uv a farm. I 'm thinkin' it 's time 
 we was pay in' him the honor uv a visit." 
 
 " That 's so," said a chorus of voices. 
 
 " I went to see him onc't," continued Tim, 
 " like one gentleman should go to see another ; 
 an' he gave me a couple uv old rotten apples 
 that would sicken a hog to look at ; an' when I 
 axed him for a drink o' milk, * Tim,' sez he, * I 
 sells all my milk, and won't have a drop till 
 milkin' time again.' The ould beast was lyin' ; 
 uv course he was. I 've kept the thing in mind 
 this year back ; and now, gentlemen, if yez are 
 
22 Camerton Slope. 
 
 all agreed to it, we '11 try the apples in his or- 
 chard, and see what he 's got in the spring- 
 house, widout waitin' to ax his leave.^' 
 
 '' Lead on, Tim," said Smallwood, as they all 
 rose to their feet; *' lead on, Mr. McCoy, and we '11 
 stand to yer back till the last horn blows." 
 
 *' But what if old Jerry sets the dogs on us ?" 
 said one of the boys. 
 
 ''I'll do the argifyin wi' the dogs," replied 
 Tim, as he picked up the heavy, knotted cane 
 which he had used as a walking-stick in climb- 
 ing the mountain. 
 
 Their progress was slow. Added to the dif- 
 ficulties of the path was the task of helping the 
 two boys, who were too drunk to keep their feet 
 on level ground. 
 
 '' Stand up here, Chris," said Sam ; *' what 's 
 the matter with them pins o' yourn ? Do n't dis- 
 grace the whole crowd o' us when we 're goin' 
 to pay a visit o' ceremony to an old man. Put 
 on yer manners, and walk straight." 
 
 Tim used similar efforts with Fritz. Pres- 
 ently they reached the smoother ground in the 
 vicinity of Coulehan's farm, and then their prog- 
 ress was easier. When they came in sight of the 
 house they made a considerable circuit, so as to 
 reach the orchard unobserved. Here they had 
 their fill of apples in safety. 
 
 *' Tim," said Sam, " 1 guess we 'd better give 
 
Tim McCoy and Sam Smallwood. 23 
 
 up that spring-house business ; it 's too dog'd 
 near the house." 
 
 *' That's where the fun comes in, man," said 
 Tim. *' We '11 take them kids out the way a piece 
 first, and then me an' you '11 advance an' sample 
 the milk." 
 
 The two tipsy boys were conveyed to a safe 
 distance from the scene, and left in charge of 
 Joe Andree, who was sober enough to be satis- 
 fied with this safer position, though he had some 
 difiiculty in persuading Chris to remain with 
 him. 
 
 When Tim and Sam reached the point where 
 they could be seen by any one on the lookout at 
 the house, they got down on all fours and crawled 
 through the tall grass and rushes of a marsh 
 that lay between them and the spring-house. 
 Reaching the latter in safety, they had no diffi- 
 culty in entering unobserved. Several pans of 
 milk, and a number of tempting prints of butter 
 just ready for market, met their gaze as soon as 
 they were fairly on the inside. 
 
 ''We're in luck, Sam," said Tim, in an un- 
 dertone, as he lifted a pan of milk to his mouth. 
 "Here's a gallon apiece for us; an' it's mighty 
 kind in them to leave us yon tin bucket. We'll 
 take a sup to the kids in it." 
 
 *' We '11 take a taste o' the old woman's but- 
 ter along, too," said Sam, "If she knew she 
 
24 Camerton Slope. 
 
 was goin' to have company, I guess slie'd 'a' set 
 out the bread to go with it." 
 
 Taking the bucket of milk and several prints 
 of butter, they set out to return ; but ere they 
 could reach the protection of the tall grass, they 
 were startled by the low growl of a dog, which 
 was changed quickly to a series of sharp barks. 
 
 '* Confound his ugly picture," said Sam; ''I 
 just expected that." 
 
 Old Jerry was away from home, but the bark- 
 ing of the dog called out all the other members 
 of the family. 
 
 "Somebody's bin in the spring-house," cried 
 one of the girls, as she caught sight of the re- 
 treating figures. "Go for them, Dragon! Sic! 
 sic! sic!" 
 
 But Dragon didn't need any exhortation. He 
 was tearing down the hill past the spring-house 
 with all the speed that was in him. 
 
 "I^et's get as far away as we can!" cried 
 Tim. "It's Jerry's gun that I 'm thinkin* about. 
 Run for it, an' the ould boy take the hindmost 
 one!" 
 
 Away they went at a break-neck pace, with 
 Dragon in hot pursuit. It was impossible to 
 make speed in the long grass and yielding ground 
 of the marsh, while the dog seemed to be but 
 little embarrassed by the obstacles in his way. 
 Presently a yell from Sam told that Dragon had 
 

 ? -~\\y 
 
 f m^ 
 
Tim McCoy and Sam Smallwood. 25 
 
 come up with him, and that the race was ended. 
 It was in vain that Sam dashed the several prints 
 of butter on the animal's head ; Dragon had no 
 notion of letting go his hold. 
 
 "Tim! Tim!" cried Sam, "are you goin' to 
 leave me, Tim?" 
 
 "Not a bit uv it," said Tim, as he set down 
 his bucket with provoking . deliberation on the 
 rising ground at the farther end of the marsh. 
 "Bring him here, Sam; that's no good place for 
 a fight." 
 
 Dragon had scarcely time to take a second 
 hold, before Tim was laying about him with his 
 heavy cane. The dog at once let go of Sam, 
 and gave his whole attention to Tim. The battle 
 was fierce, and it was the utmost that Tim could 
 do to keep the enraged animal off*. He seemed 
 to leap right at the throat of his assailant; but 
 Tim was wary and very active, and his blows 
 were terrific. As soon as Sam was released, he 
 ran to the worm-fence near by, and, seizing one 
 of the stakes, brought it to bear on Dragon's 
 head with a force that soon brought the battle 
 to a close. Limping from his wounds, the dog 
 retreated, and the victors had the field to them- 
 selves. 
 
 "Are you much hurt, Sam?" asked Tim. 
 
 "Not very much," was the reply; "but he 
 would 'a' took a good piece out o' my leg — bad 
 
26 Camerton Slope. 
 
 'cess to liim — if it hadn't bin for the leather o' 
 my boot." 
 
 Nor had Tim wholly escaped Dragon's teeth. 
 He was bleeding from several wounds when he 
 picked tip his bucket and resumed the march. 
 
 "Here, you kids," said he, as they reached 
 the hiding-place of the boys; "here's yer milk, 
 an' a mighty big fight w^e had to get it for ye." 
 
 The bottle was first drained* however, of its 
 remaining contents, Tim and Sam this time tak- 
 ing a liberal share. They felt tired, they said, 
 after their recent exercise. It was rather a 
 sorry-looking group that returned to Camerton 
 after night set in. They were ashamed to go 
 earlier. Tim and Sam both had their clothes 
 badly torn in their battle with the dog, and the 
 two younger boys were still too tipsy to walk 
 erect. None of the party was in such high 
 spirits as when they started up the mountain 
 earlier in the day. 
 
THE NEW DRIVER. 
 
 THE miners employed in the Camerton Slope 
 did not all begin work at the same hour in 
 the morning. The engine started at six o'clock, 
 setting the long wire rope in motion, and all the 
 laborers employed by the day, both inside and 
 outside of the mine, began work at that hour. 
 It was needful, however, for some of the miners 
 or coal-diggers to enter the mine at an earlier 
 hour, so that there might be a sufficient number 
 of cars loaded with coal by six o'clock for the en- 
 gine, together with the horses and day-laborers, to 
 begin work upon. The rest of the miners did 
 not go into the mine till the engine started, and 
 then they usually rode down the slope in the 
 empty cars. 
 
 On the morning after the holiday, the num- 
 ber of men and boys waiting to ride in was 
 larger than usual. They were sitting about in 
 
 27 
 
28 Camerton Slope, 
 
 groups here and there, smoking their pipes and 
 chatting about the events of the day before. 
 The all-absorbing topic of conversation was a 
 serious affray that had occurred at Barney Dil- 
 lon's saloon the night before. There were sev- 
 eral versions of the affair and of the various 
 parties mixed up in it; but all accounts agreed 
 that Pat McCoy in his drunken spree had quar- 
 reled with a Welshman named Llewellyn. 
 Words had led to blows, and the half-drunken 
 friends of the two men, in their attempts to 
 separate them, had become involved in the 
 quarrel themselves, and a general fight followed, 
 in which injuries more or less severe were in- 
 flicted upon several of the parties, including Pat 
 McCoy. Neither Pat nor his son Tim was at 
 the mine that morning. 
 
 "Where is George Atkins?" inquired the 
 mining-boss, who had just arrived at the mine. 
 
 " Here he is," replied several of the men. 
 
 *' George," said the boss, " I want you to let 
 your boy, Archie, take Tim McCoy's horse to- 
 day." 
 
 Tim was one of the drivers inside the mine, 
 while Archie and his father worked together as 
 regular miners digging coal. 
 
 " I do n't know about that," replied the elder 
 Atkins. "You know, Mr. Harris — for I've told 
 you before — that I do n't want Archie to drive." 
 
The New Driver, 29 
 
 "Let liim go, George," said one of the men ; 
 " let him go." 
 
 " Certainly, let him go," chimed in a chorus 
 of voices. The men who spoke were those who 
 would be most affected by the loss of a driver 
 that day. Under the pressure brought to bear 
 upon him, Archie's father consented that he 
 might drive Tim's horse just for that day. 
 
 "And why only just for to-day?" asked the 
 boss. 
 
 " Because, Mr. Harris, I think it 's best to 
 keep Archie with me ; and besides, if he takes 
 Tim's horse, he '11 get the ill-will of Tim and his 
 father." 
 
 " Never mind about them," replied the boss ; 
 "Tim and his father both will get their walking- 
 papers before night. I 'm sick and tired of this 
 spreeing and fooling. Go to the stable, Archie," 
 he added, " and get Tim's horse." 
 
 The engine had started by this time, and the 
 miners were climbing into the empty cars as they 
 entered the mouth of the slope at intervals of a 
 few yards apart. This was not Archie's first experi- 
 ence in driving. He had frequently filled vacan- 
 cies before ; and he now quickly followed after 
 the other drivers, riding Tim's horse into the 
 separate opening in the hillside — a few rods dis- 
 tant from the mouth of the slope — by which the 
 horses were taken into the mine. It was always 
 
30 Camerton Slope, 
 
 interesting to visitors to watch the drivers duck 
 their heads and lie down nearly flat on their 
 horses' backs as they entered the mine, guided 
 only by the light of the little lamp which hangs 
 in the cap on the forehead of every worker 
 under ground. Woe to the boy that raised his 
 head up too high ; he was sure to bump it against 
 the timbers overhead. In the ride of a half-mile 
 underground to the point where the drivers 
 began work, there was only an occasional place 
 here and there where one could rest himself for 
 a few minutes at a time, by sitting upright on 
 his horse. Of course he might walk and lead 
 his horse over part of the route, if he chose to 
 do so, but there were places where they must 
 pass through water, varying from a few inches 
 to a couple of feet in depth, so that the boys 
 always rode their horses in and out. 
 
 At the bottom of the slope was a long stretch 
 of level track called a " lye." It was the place 
 to which the horses pulled the loaded cars from 
 all parts of the inside workings to be sent up the 
 slope and out of the mine, by means of the wire 
 rope of which we have spoken. It was also the 
 point from which the drivers started with their 
 empty cars to convey them to the places where 
 the miners were at work. The lye was lit up 
 by several huge lamps, suspended from the roof 
 or fastened to the side timbers. It was always 
 
The New Driver. 31 
 
 a lively place, somewhat resembling a railroad 
 depot, where passengers are moving about and 
 trains arriving and leaving. 
 
 When Archie reached the lye, the different 
 sets of drivers were busy making up the trips of 
 cars for the different " headings " or " entries," 
 as the principal passages underground are called. 
 
 ** Hello, Arch, is that you! Are you a-goin' 
 to drive Tim's horse?" 
 
 The speaker was Mac Castle, who was one of 
 the drivers in the same entry as Tim, and be- 
 tween whom and Tim, as we have already seen, 
 no good feeling existed. Mac had mounted his 
 horse and entered the mine before he knew who 
 would be assigned to Tim's vacant place. 
 
 " Yes," replied Archie ; " father did n't want 
 me to, but Mr. Harris and the men insisted ; and 
 so I took hold to help out to-day." 
 
 '' Good enough," said Mac. " I hear say," 
 he continued, " that Tim and that promisin' son 
 o' his 'n will both have to walk the plank before 
 night. I wish your father would let you take 
 the place, Archie." 
 
 " I would n't mind it a bit," said Archie, ^' if 
 Tim has to go. It would be easier for me than 
 digging coal ; but then you know what father 
 thinks about it." 
 
 "Yes, I know," replied Mac, with a laiigh, 
 "and he's right every time. It don't do a fel- 
 
32 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 low a bit o' good to be sandwiched in with a 
 lot o' tough cases like us." 
 
 The turn-keeper or boss-driver of their entry 
 came along at this moment to assign them to 
 their places. It was his business to " keep the 
 turn," as it was called ; that is, to see that all 
 the miners in his entry were served with an 
 equal share of the empty cars. This was a 
 matter requiring calculation, as the rooms in 
 which the coal was dug were not all equally 
 manned ; some of the rooms having two or three 
 men working in partnership, and others hav- 
 ing only a man and a boy, or a man and two 
 boys, etc. 
 
 '' Archie," said the turn-keeper, *' you fall in 
 after Mac. Take three cars. Go to 29 right 
 and left, and 28 to the right." 
 
 It may be remarked here that in a coal-mine, 
 worked on the plan of the Camerton mine, the 
 ''rooms," or passages where the coal is dug, 
 branch off from the principal passages called 
 entries, or headings, somewhat in the same way 
 that the rooms of a house lead off from the 
 main hall-way. For convenience the rooms are 
 numbered. So that if it is desired to find a cer- 
 tain miner underground, you would simply in- 
 quire what entry he worked in, and the number 
 of his room. This would be like searching for 
 a house by street and number in a city. 
 
The New Driver. 33 
 
 "Shall I be the last?" inquired Archie, after 
 receiving his instructions. 
 
 *^ No," said the turn-keeper, *' I 'm coming 
 after you." 
 
 Away they went in regular procession, half a 
 dozen of them, bound for the rooms of the south 
 entry, a mile or more distant, each driver sitting 
 on the front of his forward car, the only light 
 for himself and horse being furnished by the 
 little lamp that hung in the driver's cap. The 
 horses had become so accustomed to the route 
 that the drivers had little difficulty in keeping 
 them in it. Tliey seemed to know every turn 
 and winding as well as their masters. 
 
 Archie was welcomed by the miners in every 
 room where he went that day, and as the news 
 got abroad that a new driver was to be appointed, 
 quite a number of the men expressed their de- 
 sire that Archie might be put in the vacant 
 place. Though not so big a boy as Tim, he was 
 quite as capable, the men said, and far more civil 
 and obliging. 
 
 In his heart also Archie wished he might 
 have the place, if it was settled that a change 
 would be made. He was not younger than some 
 of the other boys who were at work, with their 
 fathers and other seniors, as regular miners, but 
 he was of slighter build than many boys of his 
 age. The heavy work of digging coal told upon 
 
34 Camerton Slope, 
 
 his health. His bones ached so, very frequently, 
 when the day's work was done, that he found it 
 impossible to enjoy his evenings, or^ to devote 
 them to study, as he so much desired to do. 
 And it must be added that his way was made 
 harder than it needed to be, by his father's 
 rather peculiar disposition. 
 
 Mr. Atkins was highly respected among the 
 miners for his ability as a workman, and for the 
 sterling qualities of honesty, industry, and gen- 
 eral reliability. Few men in the mine could dig 
 more coal in a day than George Atkins, and none 
 knew better how to take care of his earnings. 
 But he was a hard master for Archie. He did 
 not mean to be unreasonable or harsh toward his 
 boy, but he was both. He seemed to be strangely 
 incapable of measuring fairly the amount of work 
 that a boy of Archie's age and size ought to be 
 able to do. This was the one great trouble of 
 Archie's young life. He would have worked 
 himself to death to please his father, or to gain 
 some commendation from him ; but his utmost 
 efforts in general fell short of the requirement 
 made of him. It was this fact that made Archie 
 more than willing to quit coal-digging, and go 
 to the easier work of driving. 
 
 The day passed off without any special inci- 
 dent underground. Mac and Archie were to- 
 gether as much as their several duties would 
 
The New Driver. 35 
 
 permit, and when they came to the lye with their 
 last trip in the evening, they mounted their 
 horses, and rode out of the mine in company. 
 
 " I guess you '11 be back again to-morrow, 
 Arch," said Mac, as they parted at the stable 
 after putting their horses away. 
 
 " I do n't know, Mac ; I have n't very much 
 hope," was the reply; "but I think it all de- 
 pends on whether Mr. Harris pushes the thing. 
 Father won't want to offend him." 
 
 When Archie reached home, an hour or more 
 after his father, he found that the boss had al- 
 ready " pushed the thing," and it was settled 
 that he was to have the vacant place. Mr. At- 
 kins gave his consent very reluctantly, and only 
 because he found himself in somewhat of a di- 
 lemma. Aside from the defect which we have 
 already noticed, Mr. Atkins was a very worthy 
 man. He was quite anxious to keep his boy 
 away, as much as possible, from the evil associ- 
 ations to which he would be exposed as a driver. 
 Then, too, as we have seen, he was fearful of in- 
 curring the ill-will of Tim and his father. But 
 on the other hand, it was a matter of policy not to 
 offend the mining-boss. It was to this feature 
 of the case that Archie was indebted for his 
 father's favorable decision. 
 
 That evening, after supper, Archie called at 
 Mr. Harris's house, and asked to see him. 
 
3^ Camerton Slope. 
 
 *'Well, Archie," said the boss, ''I suppose 
 your father has told you that you are to have 
 Tim's place." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, how will that suit you?" 
 
 '' It will suit me first-rate," replied Archie, 
 '' I 'd like to drive for a year or two, till I get a 
 little bigger and stronger. But I called to ask, 
 Mr. Harris, if I can't have some other horse." 
 
 ''What's the matter with Bill?" inquired the 
 boss. 
 
 " There's nothing the matter with him," said 
 Archie. " I do n't ask for a better horse than 
 Bill; but Tim thought so much of his horse, 
 that it will make him very mad with me if he 
 finds me driving Bill." 
 
 Mr. Harris laughed, and replied : 
 
 " Never mind what Tim says or does. But 
 we have a new horse, that I was going to put in 
 the west entry in a day or two. If it will suit 
 you better I '11 put Bill there, and let you have 
 the new horse. But, mind you, you '11 have 
 lots of trouble teaching him the route, and he 
 may have some bad tricks." 
 
 "I'll take the risk, sir," replied Archie. 
 
 "Very well," said Mr. Harris. "Tell the 
 stable-boss to give you the new horse to-morrow." 
 
 Archie thanked him and bade him good- 
 night. 
 
JERRY COULEHAN. 
 
 WHEN Jerry Coulehan reached liis home 
 at a late hour on the night after the 
 robbery of his spring-house, there was no one of 
 his household astir to acquaint him with what 
 had happened; and, in fact, he was hardly in a 
 condition fully to comprehend it. He had gone 
 to Camerton — a journey of about three miles by 
 the winding mountain road — with a load of ap- 
 ples in the afternoon, and learning that it was 
 an idle day with the miners, he had fallen in 
 with his old associates at Barney Dillon's, and 
 was only too willing to join in the general ca- 
 rousal. 
 
 It was only a few years since Jerry had 
 turned from mining to farming, and though he 
 was in the main industrious and successful in his 
 new pursuit, he had lost none of his interest in 
 his old companions ; and his relish for such scenes 
 
 37 
 
38 Camerton Slope. 
 
 as were tlien taking place at Dillon's was in no 
 wise abated. 
 
 Jerry was a man of striking appearance. He 
 was tall but thin, broad-shouldered, loose-jointed, 
 bending forward as he walked, and was much 
 given to talking to himself aloud and clawing 
 the air with his abnormally long arms, as if to 
 emphasize his words, whether in conversation 
 with himself or others. His face, long-drawn and 
 blank-looking in repose, had a wonderful mobile 
 power in his moments of excitement, and took on 
 a thousand different expressions in correspond- 
 ence with the incessant action of his hands and 
 arms. In speech he was deliberate, and almost 
 every sentence was punctuated with a peculiar 
 guttural "ha! ha!" which scores of people had 
 tried in vain exactly to imitate. Strangers gen- 
 erally shunned him as a crazy man; but those 
 who knew him best had no such fear of him, and 
 he was welcomed on this occasion as quite an 
 accession to the party at Barney Dillon's. 
 
 It was a happy circumstance for Jerry that 
 night that he could trust his faithful team to 
 keep the road up the mountain-side. He himself 
 could scarcely do more than sit in the straw in 
 the bottom of his wagon, and engage himself in 
 earnest conversation. His sleep was unusually 
 prolonged the next morning, and he was in no 
 very amiable mood to receive the intelligence that 
 
JERRY COULEHAN RECOUNTING HIS LOSSES. 
 
Jerry Coulehan. 39 
 
 his premises had been invaded the day before, his 
 milk and butter stolen, and his hitherto invinci- 
 ble dog. Dragon, beaten till he was a sight to 
 behold, and utterly spiritless. 
 
 *'The murtherin' scoundrels!" cried Jerry, 
 waxing more and more wrathy as he took in the 
 full extent of what had happened; *'an' did ye 
 stand an' see the dog bate to death before yer 
 eyes an' do nothing to help hum? Was there 
 none o' yez that could get the gun an' let the 
 light uv day into their unholy carcasses ? ha! ha!" 
 
 '' We was afraid to do it," said one of the 
 girls, "for fear of killing Dragon; and what 
 could we do if the vagabonds had turned on us 
 when you wasn't at home?" 
 
 Jerry was very methodical in keeping his ac- 
 counts ; and after he had visited the spring-house 
 and the scene of the battle, he began to figure 
 up his loss. 
 
 "There's a dog," said he as he walked up 
 and down the yard by the kitchen door, and 
 swung his arms above his head, " the best dog 
 in the Shtate, bate out uv all resimblance to 
 the dog that he was. Fifty dollars wouldn't 
 buy his like again ; ha ! ha ! Thin there 's 
 me butter — splindid butter it was, too (there 's 
 none can bate the ould woman makin' but- 
 ter) — an' I wud deliver it this blessed day to 
 Squire Hogan an' Mrs. Gans ; ivery pound uv it 
 
40 Camerton Slope, 
 
 worth a quarter uv a dollar. Then there's me 
 milk — to think uv cows like Dolly an' Judy 
 givin' milk to find its way down the throats of 
 villyuns like them ! I '11 murther each an' ivery 
 one uv them before another night comes on." 
 
 Jerry entered the living room, and took down 
 his trusty gun. Then, upon second thought, he 
 replaced it upon the hooks, and asking his wife 
 and daughters for a full description of the ma- 
 rauders, he went to the village to lay his com- 
 plaint before Squire Hogan. 
 
 '' It will be necessary, Jerry, for you to find out 
 who it was that committed the offense before I 
 can issue a warrant, said the magistrate, after 
 Jerry had made his statement. 
 
 *' That's jist what I'm afther," said Jerry. 
 " I could punish the miserable spalpeens meself 
 if the law would find them for me. What would 
 I be wanting wid the law if I knowed who it 
 was ?" 
 
 " Your best plan, Jerry," continued the mag- 
 istrate, ''will be to offer a reward for their dis- 
 covery, and when we find out who they are, we 
 can arrest and punish them." 
 
 Jerry at length consented to this, and with 
 the assistance of a friend, several copies of a 
 notice were posted up about the village, offering 
 a reward of five dollars for information that 
 would lead to the conviction of the guilty 
 
Jerry Coulehan. 41 
 
 parties. It was not the first time, by any means, 
 that depredations had been committed on Jerry's 
 premises by the young men and boys of the 
 mining community, and he was now convinced 
 that the time had come to njake an example of 
 some one. 
 
 After leaving the squire's office, Jerry learned 
 of what had befallen his friend, Pat McCoy 
 the night before, after he himself had started 
 home with his team, and he stopped at McCoy's 
 house to inquire about him. Pat was in bed, 
 very much bandaged and plastered about the 
 head and face, and ^o badly bruised in his back 
 and shoulders that he could not turn himself in 
 the bed. Tim and his mother were constantly 
 employed in lifting him about in the endeavor 
 to find some easy position to lie in. This was the 
 reason why Tim was not at work. His father's 
 condition was indeed quite serious ; and when 
 he was first brought home, the doctor was by no 
 means certain that he would survive his injuries. 
 
 Several days later all Cam er ton was startled 
 by the news that warrants had been issued for 
 the arrest '^of Mac Castle and Archie Atkins, 
 who were charged with trespass, and also with 
 the theft of butter and milk from Jerry Coule- 
 han's premises. Tim McCoy and Sam Small- 
 wood were the witnesses who undertook to prove 
 the charges. 
 
42 Camerton Slope. 
 
 This bold movement had become necessary, 
 in their judgment, to divert suspicion from them- 
 selves. Jerry was making more fuss about the 
 affair than they had any idea he would, judging 
 from his forbearance in the past; and certain 
 families, who lived near the path to the moun- 
 tain, were already giving the names of the va- 
 rious parties who had made the ascent that day. 
 Tim and his party were known to be of the num- 
 ber. Besides this, one of the younger boys had in- 
 discreetly boasted of the big draughts of milk 
 furnished them by the adventure of the two 
 older boys. 
 
 Tim and Sam found it needful to admit that 
 the party had indeed been regaled with Jerry 
 Coulehan's milk, and to invent a story to the ef- 
 fect that they had simply seized the bucket which 
 the guilty parties had abandoned, probably in 
 order to escape detection. This story was drilled 
 into the other boys, who, of course, of their own 
 knowledge, could not, in any event, testify as to 
 where the milk came from. They knew noth- 
 ing but what the two leaders chose to tell them. 
 
 Beyond the desire to screen himself by mak- 
 ing an accusation against Archie and Mac, Tim 
 saw his opportunity to strike a revengeful blow 
 at the boy who had taken his place as driver in 
 the south entry. The discharge of his father 
 and himself he felt to be a family disgrace, and 
 
Jerry Coulehan, 43 
 
 it seemed to liim that the force of the blow 
 would be somewhat broken if he could involve 
 his successor and Mac also, both of whom he 
 cordially disliked, in a criminal charge. When 
 it became apparent to him that he must do this, 
 or in all probability be accused himself, he sent 
 for Sam, and the plot was concocted forthwith. 
 The other boys were simply to testify to having 
 seen Mac and Archie climb the Welshman's Pass, 
 and that, later on, a bucket of milk had been 
 brought to them by Tim and Sam, who told 
 them that it had been taken by Mac Castle and 
 Archie from Jerry Coulehan's spring-house, and 
 then hidden away by them in their flight after 
 the battle with the dog. 
 
 As soon as the matter was arranged, Sam 
 went to Squire Hogan to give information of 
 what they would prove as to the robbery, while 
 the other boys were sent to Tim's house to be 
 drilled for the approaching trial. 
 
 The astonishment of Mac and Archie may 
 well be imagined when they learned that a con- 
 stable had entered the mine on the afternoon of 
 the third day of Archie's experience as a driver, 
 and was waiting for them at the lye. At first 
 they thought the whole matter was a practical 
 joke put up on Archie because of his recent ap- 
 pointment as a driver. Boys entering on new 
 positions were frequently put through rude cere- 
 
 4 
 
44 Camerton Slope. ^ 
 
 monies of initiation. But when the truth dawned 
 upon them they were dazed almost beyond the 
 power of utterance, and gazed in blank bewilder- 
 ment at each other, and at the gaping crowd 
 that had collected about them at the lye. Mac 
 was the first to recover the power of speech. 
 
 '' This is Tim McCoy's doin's, gentlemen," 
 said he; "blamed if it isn't." 
 
 Archie protested his innocence in the strong- 
 est terms; but of course all this was of no avail. 
 The warrant directed them to appear for trial 
 the following Saturday afternoon. 
 
 During his next trip Archie seized a few 
 minutes to run into the room where his father 
 worked to acquaint him with what had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 " You went up the mountain that day, didn't 
 you, Archie?" said his father, as soon as he had 
 recovered from his astonishment. 
 
 ''Yes, sir; but I give you my word of honor 
 that I did n't steal anything either from Jerry 
 Coulehan or from anybody else." 
 
 " I believe you, my boy," said Mr. Atkins 
 with a warmth of manner and a touch of ten- 
 derness that was quite unusual toward Archie. 
 " I believe you," he repeated, bringing his fist 
 down on his knee with sudden emphasis. 
 " There 's going to be some false swearing, very 
 likely," he added, "and perhaps it won't be 
 
Jerry Coulehan, 45 
 
 easy to get around it ; but do n't be crying about 
 it, lad. We '11 give the rascals a hard fight 
 for it." 
 
 Archie went back to his work with a heart 
 greatly lightened. This expression of confidence 
 in him by his father was almost a full compen- 
 sation for the slanderous accusations of others. 
 
St^apter^ V. 
 
 THE TRIAL. 
 
 SQUIRE HOGAN'S court was held in one 
 corner of the company's large warehouse, 
 the department of justice bein^ fenced off from 
 the freight-room only by a low railing. On the 
 following Saturday afternoon the big room was 
 packed almost to suffocation with an eager, 
 curious crowd, long before the hour set for the 
 trial"; the numerous piles of freight affording 
 elevated and comfortable seats for those fortu- 
 nate enough to be among the early comers. By 
 mutual agreement, work in the mine was hurried 
 all the morning, and during the noon hour up to 
 two o'clock in the afternoon, without intermis- 
 sion. At that hour all Camerton quit work, and 
 made preparation to be present at the trial, 
 which was fixed for three o'clock. 
 
 Mr. Atkins had secured the services of a 
 visiting lawyer, named Matlack, for Archie's 
 46 
 
The Trial. 47 
 
 defense, and it was decided that the two boys 
 should make common cause, and be tried to- 
 gether. Jerry Coulehan appeared as the prose- 
 cutor, and undertook to manage his own case. 
 He had been a good deal engaged in reading law 
 during the several days that had elapsed since 
 he commenced the legal proceedings, and had 
 consulted every man in the village who was 
 supposed to have any acquaintance with legal 
 forms, or the method *of procedure in criminal 
 cases. The remainder of his time was taken up 
 in rehearsing himself for his part* in the trial. 
 It was a subject of remark among the knowing 
 ones that Jerry seemed much more anxious to 
 acquit himself well as a lawyer in the proceed- 
 ings than to recover damages or to punish the 
 offenders. 
 
 Exactly at three o'clock, Jerry appeared upon 
 the scene, wearing his most important and 
 knowing look, and dressed in the best suit of 
 clothes he had ever exhibited in Camerton. 
 After the usual opening formalities, Jerry arose 
 to present the case for the prosecution, as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 *'May it plaze yer honor, I'm intering this 
 timple iiv justice for the first time a-seekin' uv 
 me rights; but it's not the first time, yer honor, 
 that I've been dealt wid foul; ha! ha! I'm a 
 honest man, yer honor. My car^/^ter is under- 
 
48 Camerton Slope. 
 
 stood to yez all, gentlemen," continued Jerry, as 
 he turned with a wave of his hand to the crowd. 
 ''If I do say it mesilf, it's a honest csLvakier. 
 It's as honest a car^/^ter as ony man in Camer- 
 ton can show, be hum whosumever he is ; ha ! 
 ha! Yer honor, I— I—" 
 
 At this point Jerry seemed to forget what 
 came next. The crowd applauded and offered 
 various suggestions, while the court sternly com- 
 manded silence. Jerry hitched up his sleeves 
 with a kind of desperate energy till his arms 
 were bare nearly to the elbows, and then re- 
 marked : 
 
 ''It's me first attimpt at a speech, gentlemen, 
 and I'm laborin' in defince uv me rights. But 
 it's warrum work, an' I'm not used to it. Wud 
 some one uv me many friends be kind enough 
 to bring me a dthrink o' water." 
 
 It took some little time to work through the 
 crowd with the water, and in the meantime Jerry 
 rubbed his brow and the top of his bald head 
 with his red bandanna handkerchief. Then he 
 wiped his spectacles, and proceeded to examine 
 his notes. He drank a liberal quantity of the 
 water that was handed him, and then resumed 
 his speech: 
 
 "As I was a sayin', yer honor an^ gentlemen, 
 I 'm a honest man a-seekin' uv the pertection uv 
 the law. Think uv me feelings, yer honor, when 
 
The Trial. 
 
 49 
 
 I went to me liome, wliicli home it is me para- 
 dise, an' there I found that the serpint had en- 
 tered it — the same ould serpint or some uv his 
 descindents that was in the garden of Eden; 
 ha ! ha ! Me dog, yer honor, the faithful com- 
 panion uv me family and the pertector uv me 
 home, was set upon an* almost murthered wid 
 some sort of a bludgeon. No words uv mine, 
 gentlemen, can tell how me poor dog must 
 have suffered. The house at the foot uv the 
 hill where me milk an' butter is kept, was in- 
 tered in broad daylight, the milk uv me best 
 cows was wasted in the insides uv base cut- 
 throat villyuns, an' the butter that me wife made 
 for other people was throwed all about the place 
 like common dirt; ha! ha! 
 
 "The guilty blaggards that done all this is 
 here, yer honor, right under yer very eyes, an' 
 it's not the first time that they've bin guilty uv 
 similar sich doins'. Now wid yer honor's per- 
 mission, I'll bring on the witnesses what will 
 prove the truth uv what I'm sayin' ; ha! ha!'* 
 
 The first witnesses were Jerry's wife and 
 daughter, who testified as to what was stolen 
 and the injuries inflicted on the dog, but they 
 could not identify the guilty parties. Then in 
 a loud voice, Jerry called out: 
 
 ''Tim McCoy! Come forward, Tim, and give 
 yer testimony to the court.'* 
 
50 Camerton Slope. 
 
 Tim worked his way forward, and, after being 
 sworn to "tell the truth, the whole truth, and 
 nothing but the truth," was ready to begin. In 
 putting the questions which drew from Tim his 
 story, Jerry was prompted by a friend, whose 
 legal acquirements were rather more extensive 
 than his own. 
 
 Tim went on to say that he and a party of 
 his friends had gone up the mountain for a jaunt 
 on the idle day, occasioned by the breaking of 
 the rope. While picking blackberries in the 
 woods, they had been attracted by the barking 
 of a dog, and the sound of screaming female 
 voices. Hurrying to the rising ground at the 
 edge of the wood which overlooked Jerry Coule- 
 han's place, they saw Mac Castle and Archie 
 Atkins running from the direction of the spring- 
 house, the one with a bucket in his hand, and 
 the other with something wrapped up in white 
 cloths. They had not run far, however, before 
 the dog came up with them. They then turned 
 upon him, and with a heavy club and a fence- 
 stake, soon beat him off. Observing from his 
 elevated position that they abandoned the bucket 
 soon after leaving Jerry Coulehan's premises, he 
 and Sam Smallwood had secured it to see what 
 it might contain, and finding it to be milk, had 
 helped themselves to it, and then restored the 
 bucket to its hiding-place. 
 
The Trial. 51 
 
 Sam Smallwood confirmed Tim's story, with 
 the additional circumstance that Archie's face 
 was bleeding when the fight with the dog ended, 
 and that the scar, made either with the teeth 
 or the paw of the dog, was still plainly visible. 
 
 This part of the testimony produced quite a 
 sensation in the court, and Archie was painfully 
 aware that numerous eyes were fixed upon the 
 still remaining traces of the wound that he had 
 received from an unknown hand while climbing 
 through the Welshman's Pass. 
 
 The testimony of the younger boys was un- 
 important, and tended only to confirm that of 
 the two older ones at minor points. 
 
 Mr. Matlack's cross-examination of Tim and 
 Sam was skillful and searching, but it failed to 
 involve them in any contradiction, or essentially 
 to break the force of their very damaging testi- 
 mony. Witnesses to the previous good charac- 
 ter of the two boys were numerous ; but neither 
 this testimony, nor Mr. Matlack's plea, could 
 offset the positive statements of Tim and Sam, 
 confirmed, as they seemed to be, by the several 
 minor circumstances that had come to light. 
 
 It was seven o'clock, and the trial had lasted 
 four hours, when Squire Hogan gave his sen- 
 tence againt Mac and Archie, imposing a fine of 
 ten dollars and costs upon each of them. He 
 was sorry, he said, that duty required him to 
 
52 Camerton Slope. 
 
 pronounce such a sentence upon boys who had 
 hitherto stood well in the community, but jus- 
 tice was no respecter of persons. He also ad- 
 monished them to keep a strict guard over them- 
 selves in the future, that they might not again 
 be involved in such wanton and criminal conduct. 
 Jerry Coulehan was the only party concerned 
 in the trial whose satisfaction at the outcome 
 was altogether unalloyed. 
 
 "I've incountered one uv yer crack city 
 lawyers," said he, " an' bate hum intirely out uv 
 his boots. I left hum niver a peg to shtand on ; 
 ha ! ha ! Did ye iver see a purtier thrial nor 
 that?" 
 
 Jerry celebrated his legal triumph by treating 
 the crowd at Barney Dillon's that night. He 
 drank with them, but not to the same extent as 
 usual. His intoxication was of another sort. 
 While the more boisterous of the crowd drank 
 and guffawed to their hearts' content, Jerry drew 
 a few select friends into a corner, and engaged 
 them in earnest conversation as to the propri- 
 ety of another change in his line of business. 
 
 " I could dig coal wi' ony o' ye, when I 
 worked beside ye in the slope," said Jerry ; "but 
 sez I to meself, one day, sez I, ' Jerry Coulehan, 
 yer a fool to be buryin' uv yerself up in the 
 ground this way.' Then I took a shtep up in 
 the world ; an' wid me vegetables, an' me pigs, 
 
The Trial. 
 
 53 
 
 an' me fruit and sich like, I 'm layin' away a 
 Uttle money. But it comes to me now like a 
 angel had spoke to me : I must not waste me 
 life a-tillin' of the soil. Gentlemen," continued 
 Jerry, in his most dramatic manner, '' it 's a 
 lawyer that I must be." 
 
 One of Jerry's friends applauded this declara- 
 tion vociferously. Another said : " It 's a second 
 Daniel O'Connell that ye '11 be, Jerry, an' no 
 mishtake," emphasizing his remark by taking 
 another drink. 
 
 The other two members of this private circle 
 winked at each other across the table, and 
 laughed into their glasses. But all parties drank 
 freely at Jerry's expense. 
 
 As for Tim and Sam, neither of them was 
 exactly comfortable. It was the boldest piece of 
 work that they had ever done. Whatever qualms 
 of conscience Tim might have had, were dis- 
 missed with the remark : '' When a doctor 's got 
 to cut a feller's leg off, Sam, he do n't want to 
 be foolin', an' wishin' it was back on again. 
 Better fur them fellers to be a' paying ten 
 dollars an' costs than fur you an' me. But is n't 
 old Jerry a team ? It was better than a circus, 
 the way he carried on to-day." 
 
 Sam, however, was not so well satisfied with 
 this view of the case. After the excitement 
 of the trial was over, he found himself more 
 
54 Camerton Slope. 
 
 disturbed than he expected to be. After he went 
 to bed that night he was kept from sleep by the 
 recollection of his false oath. Heretofore he had 
 sought only amusement in all his pranks, and 
 had not deliberately plotted the serious injury of 
 any one. Not until he was alone in the dark- 
 ness of the night did the full consciousness 
 dawn upon him that he had crossed the line 
 which separates the fun-loving, mischief-making 
 youth from the perjured villain. He would 
 have given much to be able to undo the work of 
 the past few days. 
 
ANOTHER CHANGE IN THE SOUTH ENTRY. 
 
 T TyHEN Pat McCoy recovered from liis iiiju- 
 ^ ^ ries sufficiently to be able to do with- 
 out Tim's attendance upon him, the latter 
 secured the influence of several of the oldest 
 miners in the south entry, and asked to be re- 
 stored to his former position as driver. It is 
 not at all probable that his suit would have been 
 successful had it not been made at a most oppor- 
 tune moment. Joe Merryman, one of the drivers 
 in the south entry, had been laid up for several 
 days from the effects of an injury received in 
 the mine. In coming out of the entry with his 
 loaded trip he had allowed his cars to get too 
 much headway on '' the grade." This was a 
 name applied to a part of the route where, for 
 a couple of hundred yards or more, the course 
 was down-hill, and it was needfal for the driver 
 to check the speed of the cars by drawing the 
 
 55 
 
56 Camerton Slope, 
 
 brakes. Too great speed on the grade made it 
 dangerous for the horse in front of the cars, as 
 well as for anything that might be in the way 
 below ; as, for instance, when one trip of cars 
 got off the track, or broke down, it was impor- 
 tant that the driver next behind should have suf- 
 ficient control of his cars to stop at short notice, 
 on being signaled by the waving of a light up 
 and down in advance of him. 
 
 Joe Merryman was a good driver, and had 
 met with as few accidents as any driver in the 
 mine. His mishap, on this occasion, was due 
 to starting down the grade at a more rapid rate 
 than usual. Finding that the speed was increas- 
 ing too much for safety, he began to draw the 
 brakes tighter by running along at the side of 
 the cars and forcing the levers down into the 
 lower notches of the racks. He was nimble- 
 footed, quick-sighted, and quite apt at this dan- 
 gerous business, and had done iho same thing 
 successfully hundreds of times before ; but on 
 this occasion, a lump of coal that had fallen 
 from one of the cars in advance of him, lay in 
 the path. Over this he stumbled and was thrown 
 between two of his cars. They did not run over 
 him, but he was dragged a considerable distance 
 and badly bruised. His place had been supplied 
 by a substitute for a couple of days ; but it be- 
 came needful to make other arrangements, as 
 
Another Change. 57 
 
 Joe's injuries proved to be more serious than 
 was at first supposed. 
 
 Tim was not slow to take advantage of this 
 accidental opening. He knew also that the 
 mine was behind with its orders for coal, and 
 that no driver could be spared from any other 
 part of the mine to take the vacant place in the 
 south entry. 
 
 Mr. Harris, the mining-boss, was a positive 
 man, and not much given to changing his mind. 
 He had flattered himself that he had gotten rid 
 of the McCoys altogether, and that they would 
 shortly remove to some one of the neighboring 
 mines. But the severity of Pat's injuries, re- 
 ceived in his drunken brawl, had drawn public 
 sympathy toward him. The family would prob- 
 ably be in needy circumstances before Pat could 
 earn anything for them again. It seemed there- 
 fore an act of charity to give Tim something to 
 do. Besides this, Tim was more experienced 
 and competent as a driver than any boy that 
 could immediately be found to take Joe Merry- 
 man's place. So that Mr. Harris found himself 
 almost compelled, by the force of circumstances, 
 to restore Tim to his old position as a driver in 
 the south entry. 
 
 Within a week, therefore, after the trial in 
 which Archie had been convicted, upon Tim's 
 false testimony, of a criminal offense, he found 
 
58 Camerton Slope, 
 
 himself associated in daily labor with the boy who 
 had been the chief agent in putting this terrible 
 stigma upon him. Archie had found his posi- 
 tion cruel enough before, though he had seen 
 nothing of Tim since the trial. There were a 
 good many taunts to be endured, and many a joke 
 was cracked at Arcliie's expense ; but all this was 
 nothing compared with the prospect of constant 
 daily association with the author of the wicked 
 plot. 
 
 Public opinion in Camerton was very much 
 divided upon the question of Archie's guilt. 
 While many of his friends had as much faith 
 in him as ever, and openly and indignantly as- 
 serted their belief that a plot had been concocted 
 against the two boys, others were inclined to 
 make light of the whole matter by saying that 
 it was only a boyish prank anyhow ; that there 
 was no need of making so much fuss about it, 
 and that Mac and Archie were just as likely to 
 be into a thing of that kind as anybody else. 
 Then there is a class of people — their name is 
 legion — who find a low kind of gratification in 
 seeing a good name clouded with suspicion or 
 tarnished with positive guilt. 
 
 Archie^s family belonged to the better class 
 of the mining community. Mr. Atkins and his 
 intimate friends held themselves aloof, for the 
 most part, from the festivities that were a marked 
 
Another Change, 59 
 
 feature of the social life of the Carnerton people, 
 and they were particularly disliked by most of 
 the group who had their headquarters at Barney 
 Dillon's. From these people, of course, Archie 
 received no sympathy. gome of them were 
 coarse and cruel in their allusions to what had 
 taken place, and lost no opportunity to gibe 
 him about his propensity for breaking into 
 other people's premises, or his fondness for 
 milk, etc. 
 
 Poor Archie ! On the Saturday afternoon 
 when the trial was over, and he found himself 
 convicted of a criminal offense, it seemed to him 
 that the world suddenly stood still, and that the 
 sun would never shine again. Upon his formal 
 release, after his father had paid the fine, he 
 hurried out of the court-room, paying little at- 
 tention to the various expressions of sympathy 
 so freely tendered him. Indeed he scarcely 
 stopped to notice any one till he reached home, 
 where his mother was anxiously awaiting the 
 result of the trial. Without a word he sank 
 down on the floor beside her chair, put his face 
 in her lap, and burst into tears. It was a long 
 time since he had done this before, but it had 
 been a very frequent practice with him all 
 through his earlier years when anything espe- 
 cially troubled him. His mother cried with him, 
 while she stroked his hair, and it was some time 
 
 5 
 
6o Camerton Slope, 
 
 before either of them spoke. Then Archie told 
 her about the trial, and though she felt the sting 
 very keenly, she comforted him as only a good 
 mother could do, drawing largely upon her two 
 favorite books, the Bible and John Bunyan. 
 
 Mr. Atkins did not reach home until after 
 dark. None ot his most intimate friends even, 
 had ever seen him so agitated as he was over 
 the result of the trial. Though he had partly 
 suspected the method by which the charge 
 against Archie was to be sustained, yet when 
 the event confirmed his worst suspicions, he 
 seemed to be imprepared for the blow. He was 
 not, in general, a man of many words; but on 
 this occasion his excited utterances in the pres- 
 ence of the crowd, that still lingered about the 
 magistrate's office, led some of his friends to fear 
 that he might be irritated into personal violence 
 if they suffered him to carry out his purpose of 
 following Tim and Sam to their homes. Upon 
 one pretext and another they detained him with 
 them till he was calmer, and then they per- 
 suaded him to let the matter drop for the pres- 
 ent. He was very reluctant to do this, but at 
 length consented to yield to their judgment, and 
 went quietly to his home. 
 
 He talked very freely with his family about 
 every feature of the situation, and his manifest 
 pride in his boy, and unusual tenderness toward 
 
Another Change. 6i 
 
 him tliroughout the whole course of the pro- 
 ceedings, was, as we have seen, no small conso- 
 lation to Archie. 
 
 The next day was Sunday. For the first 
 time in years, Archie was absent from his Sun- 
 day-school, which met at nine o'clock in the 
 morning. It seemed to him that he could not 
 face the Sunday-school people while the incidents 
 of his trial and conviction were still in every- 
 body's mouth. 
 
 " After a while," he said to his mother, *' I 
 hope I '11 feel better about it ; but I do n't feel 
 as if I wanted to go out of doors to-day." 
 
 In the afternoon his Sunday-school teacher, 
 Mr. Shryock, called to inquire about him. James 
 Shryock was one of the miners in the Camerton 
 Slope, and worked in the same entry as Archie. 
 He was a sensible and pious man, and was held 
 in high esteem among the miners generally. He 
 had made a better use of his limited educational 
 opportunities than most of the men, and his 
 knowledge of the Bible was really wonderful. 
 He carried a Bible into the mine as regularly as 
 he did his dinner-bucket, and Room 57 in the 
 south entry, where he worked with his partner, 
 Thomas Tangey, was a sort of headquarters in 
 religious matters for all that part of the mine. 
 It was called " The School of the Prophets" by 
 the other miners. Certain it was that the 
 
62 Camerton Slope, 
 
 two men who worked in Number 57 exercised a 
 good influence over their fellow-miners, and in 
 the occasional resting-spells that the men had 
 underground, the Bible that was always to be 
 found in 57 was frequently appealed to, to settle 
 disputed points. It was a well-worn and very 
 much-begrimed book, in consequence of being 
 handled only by blackened fingers, but through 
 its use a number of the miners had come to have 
 a far better knowledge of the Word of God than 
 they could otherwise have possessed. 
 
 Archie was greatly attached to his Sunday- 
 school teacher, and, notwithstanding his ex- 
 pressed desire to avoid seeing any one that day, 
 found himself more than willing to have a talk 
 with him. 
 
 " I missed you from school, Archie," said Mr, 
 Shryock ; "and, though I think I understand 
 the reason why you were not there, I thought I 
 would come around and see about it." 
 
 '^ I 'm much obliged to you, Mr. Shryock, for 
 coming," replied Archie, "but indeed, I didn't 
 feel as if I could go to school this morning. It 
 seemed to me that everybody would be saying: 
 * Here comes the thief.' " 
 
 " Not everbody, Archie," said Mr. Shryock, 
 with a meaning smile; "not by any means. 
 You '11 find very few people in Camerton who 
 believe the story that was told against you yes- 
 
Another Change. 63 
 
 terday ; and probably the few who do believe it 
 are not the ones that have the best standing. 
 I'm not going to chide you, Archie, for being 
 away to-day, under the circumstances ; but I 
 wish you could have gone over the lesson with 
 us in the class, particularly if the boys talked 
 about your case before your face as they did in 
 your absence." 
 
 '' What could my case have to do with the 
 lesson?" Archie inquired in some surprise. 
 
 '* You wouldn't ask that question, Archie, if 
 you had studied the lesson for to-day. The boys 
 are all a good deal put out at what was done 
 against you yesterday, and seemed to think it 
 wonderful that such a lesson should have come 
 to us in the regular order just at this time." 
 
 Archie admitted that he had not looked at 
 the lesson. He usually studied it during the 
 week; but during the past week he had not once 
 thought of his Sunday-school lesson. He got 
 up at once to bring his Bible, and began to read 
 aloud, by his teacher's request, from the thirty- 
 seventh Psalm : ^' Fret not thyself because of 
 evil-doers, neither be thou envious against the 
 workers of iniquity : for they shall soon be cut 
 down like the grass, and wither as the green 
 herb. . . . Commit thy way unto the Lord ; 
 trust also in him ; and he shall bring it to pass. 
 And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as 
 
64 Camerton Slope. 
 
 the light, and thy judgment as the noonday. 
 Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him : 
 fret not thyself because of him who prospereth 
 in his way, because of the man who bringeth 
 wicked devices to pass. Cease from anger, and 
 forsake wrath : fret not thyself in anywise to 
 do evil. For evil-doers shall be cut off; but those 
 that wait upon the Lord, they shall inherit the 
 earth. . . . The wicked plotteth against the 
 just, and gnasheth upon him with his teeth. 
 The Lord shall laugh at him: for he seeth that 
 his day is coming." 
 
 '' Why does God let such things happen to 
 innocent people ?" asked Archie, after a pause. 
 
 " To try them," was Mr. Shryock's answer. 
 " Perhaps one reason is," he continued, " to see 
 how far wicked people will go in their wicked- 
 ness when they have cast off the fear of God. 
 But this is certainly true, that the cruel blows 
 struck at us by wicked people show us how much 
 or how little we 've got of the spirit of Him who 
 meekly bore the insults and injuries heaped upon 
 him, and in his dying agony prayed that his 
 murderers might be forgiven." 
 
 "I'm afraid I haven't got much of that 
 spirit," said Archie. " I do n't see how it 's pos- 
 sible to forgive mean and wicked people, that 
 swear to lies about you when you've done noth- 
 ing against them." 
 
Another Change. 65 
 
 '* Archie, you remind me of a missionary 
 story I 've just been reading. An Indian chief 
 shook his head when the missionary preached 
 the duty of forgiving and loving one's enemies, 
 and told the preacher that nobody could put it 
 into practice. Then he was told instances of 
 men who had put it into practice ; and after 
 puffing his pipe in deep thought for awhile, he 
 said : ' If the Great Spirit who made man 
 would give him a new heart it could be done, 
 but not till then.' Archie," continued Mr. Shry- 
 ock, " turn to Ezekiel xxxvi, 26, and read two 
 verses." 
 
 Archie did so, and read: ^'A new heart also 
 will I give you, and a new spirit will I put 
 within you ; and I will take away the stony 
 heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a 
 heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within 
 you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and 
 ye shall keep my judgments, and do them." 
 
 The afternoon was pretty well gone when 
 Mr. Shryock took his leave ; but the world had 
 visibly brightened all around Archie. The visit 
 of his Sunday-school teacher had been like 
 cordial to his wounded spirit. 
 
THE NIGHT-SCHOOL. 
 
 /O^AMBRTON settled down into its ordinary 
 ^^^ ways again, after the excitement of the 
 trial had subsided. The references to it were 
 less and less frequent, much to Archie's relief, as 
 other and more immediate objects of interest 
 claimed the attention of the people. 
 
 The rush of business, which the near ap- 
 proach of winter always brought to the mines, 
 seemed to absorb everybody. Camerton mine, 
 proud of its record for great achievements, was 
 straining every nerve to keep abreast of the 
 orders which impatient dealers were crowding 
 upon it. The mining-boss seemed to be every- 
 where at once ; or, at all events, he had the 
 faculty of putting in an appearance upon the 
 scene of every difficulty, and promptly remedy- 
 ing every slight accident which might cause de- 
 tention. Each day's output of coal was marked 
 66 
 
The Night-School. 67 
 
 in large figures in the weigh-office window, so 
 that the men might see it ; and ever}^ successive 
 day was an attempt to equal, or surpass, the 
 record of the day before. Miners, drivers, 
 horses, track-hands, dump-hands, and laborers of 
 every description, all wxre stimulated to the ut- 
 most degree of energy ; and a wearier set when 
 night came to their relief it would be difficult 
 to find. 
 
 Tired as Archie was in consequence of the 
 extra work crowded upon him, it was neverthe- 
 less no small relief to find that all parties were 
 becoming too much absorbed in the season's 
 record for a great output of coal, to spend as 
 much time as they had formerly done in discuss- 
 ing him and his unfortunate situation. But 
 there were not wanting penetrating eyes, which 
 detected that the matter was much in his 
 thoughts, and that a change had come over his 
 spirit. The words of kindly sympathy now and 
 then spoken to him were gratefully appreciated. 
 
 At length, however, the season's rush was 
 over. Winter had come in good earnest. The 
 deepest snow that had been known for years con- 
 cealed from view all those traces of coal-dirt and 
 dinginess which usually distinguish a mining 
 village. The most unsightly objects seemed 
 wonderfully transformed by the thick mantle of 
 pure white which enveloped them, while the 
 
68 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 mountains that loomed up on either side of the 
 village took on additional grandeur. 
 
 It was impossible to keep navigation open 
 any longer on the river, which conveyed away 
 the coal that Camerton mine had been sending 
 out in a constant stream. The snow was drift- 
 ing. Eight, ten, twelve, and even twenty feet of 
 snow was reported in some of the cuts of the 
 railroad, which the village depended on for its 
 communication with the outside world. Work 
 was therefore suspended, and the overtaxed men 
 and boys and horses had a breathing-spell. It 
 came none to soon for the aching bones and ex- 
 hausted frames of many of them, and was 
 greatly enjoyed by all. 
 
 "Archie," said Mac Castle one day, shortly 
 after the mine shut down ; " now 's the time for 
 that night-school you was talkin' about the day 
 we was up on the mountain. They tell me that 
 the teacher that was over at Hawksville, come to 
 Mrs. Grant's boardin'-house to-day, and wants to 
 get up a school here this winter." 
 
 "Is that so?" replied Archie. "Then, I 
 guess we 'd better go and see him ; but it seems 
 to me, Mac, that what 's happened to you and 
 me since then has rather knocked the notion 
 out of my head. As we used to say when we 
 went to day-school, ' I do n't care whether 
 school keeps or not.' " 
 
The Night-School. 69 
 
 *' Pshaw!" replied Mac. "That's the very 
 thing that 's put it into viy head. I do n't mean 
 to stay with such fellows as we 've got around 
 here forever ; and if there 's any such thing as 
 gettin' learnin' enough to make my way in the 
 world outside o' the mines, I 'm a-goin' to get 
 it. But anyhow, Archie, I do n't see the need 
 o' givin' up to this thing. It was awfully 
 rough on you an' me, an' it 's right hard to 
 bear ; but we '11 get even with Tim McCoy 
 yet — see if we don't." 
 
 ''If we only knew how much idle time we'd 
 have this winter," said Archie, " we might go to 
 day-school some more yet." 
 
 "But we don't know," replied Mac. "After 
 this freeze is over and the snow gets away, they 
 may go on again like they do some other win- 
 ters, and keep us at work more than half the 
 time. The only way to make a sure thing of it 
 is to take the night-school for it." 
 
 "Agreed," said Archie. "Let's go and see 
 the teacher." 
 
 Mr. Pancoast, the teacher, was out when they 
 reached the boarding-house ; but as it was just 
 noon, and he would soon be in to dinner, they 
 waited for him. In about half an hour, he made 
 his appearance and gave them a cordial wel- 
 come. He had been furnished with a few names 
 of patties who might probably be interested in a 
 
70 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 night-school, and had been in search of some of 
 them. Mac and Archie found their names 
 among the number. By their aid, the list of 
 probable scholars was greatly extended ; and 
 they agreed to join the teacher in a canvass of 
 the village. Written notices were posted all 
 over Camerton, fixing the commencement of the 
 school for the evening of the next day. 
 
 The room engaged for the school was the 
 basement of an old stone church, well up on the 
 hillside. The building was no_longer used as a 
 church, having been found difficiilt of access, 
 especially in winter, when the hillside was fre- 
 quently one glare of ice from top to bottom. A 
 new edifice more eligibly located had taken its 
 place ; and the up-stairs of the old building had 
 become a kind of public hall, while the base- 
 ment was occasionally occupied as a private 
 school. 
 
 This was the first attempt at a night-school 
 ever made in Camerton, and the idea seemed to 
 be very popular. The room was well filled the 
 first evening with a company which represented 
 both sexes and almost all ages. Among the 
 older candidates for education was Jerry Coule- 
 han. Full of the idea of becoming a lawyer, 
 he had been poring over law-books borrowed of 
 Squire Hogan, ever since " the cilebrated trial," 
 as he usually termed it. He had progressed so 
 
The NiGHT-ScHOOL. 71 
 
 far as to arrive at the belief that he must aban- 
 don his whole scheme unless he could in some 
 way mend his education. On hearing of the 
 proposed night-school, his enthusiasm knew no 
 bounds. 
 
 '' It 's jist the very thing!" said Jerry, throw- 
 ing his arms aloft to give the proper emphasis 
 to his words. ^' It 's a spicial intervintion of 
 Providence to give men like mesilf a chance 
 whin they 've been denied dacint opportunities 
 in their youth." 
 
 Tim McCoy, Sam Smallwood, and others of 
 the boys that have been mentioned in this story, 
 were on hand also. That all the pupils had 
 not come wath a view to improve their educa- 
 tion, or, at least,- that this was not their princi- 
 pal object, began to be evident before the school 
 had progressed very far. 
 
 The first evening was taken up with the 
 brief examinations necessary to arrange such a 
 promiscuous crowd into classes ; and then the 
 work of the school began in good earnest. Mr. 
 Pancoast, the teacher, was capable and thorough, 
 and succeeded in infusing his own spirit into 
 the larger number of his pupils ; and, be it said 
 to their credit, that, though many of them were 
 unprepossessing in appearance and uncouth in 
 manner, he found in quite a number a genuine 
 hunger for knowledge. 
 
72 Camerton Slope. 
 
 Jerry Coulelian was not seen at Barney 
 Dillon's for more than two weeks ; and when 
 at last he pnt in an appearance there on Satur- 
 day night, the only night in the week that there 
 was no school, he was rallied not a little on his 
 new departure. 
 
 "Got yer fill uv high larnin' yet?" asked one 
 of his old cronies, in a bantering tone. 
 
 " Not by a jugful," responded Jerry. *' Shure 
 an' it's only shallow vessels that gits theirselves 
 filled wid the first sup; ha! ha!" 
 
 " Some wan was tellin' nie, Jerry," said an- 
 other, "that ye was at the head o' yer class, an' 
 wud bate the teacher hinisilf afore long." 
 
 The first of these statements was true. 
 Jerry was at the head of the men's class in 
 nearly all the branches which they studied to- 
 gether. Despite his oddities of speech and 
 manner, which made him a general laughing- 
 stock, Jerry possessed no small share of mental 
 force ; and his application to his books was per- 
 sistent and close. He brought his own opinions 
 to school with him, however, and was not always 
 as teachable as the model pupil is supposed to 
 be; indeed, his grotesque manner during a reci- 
 tation, and quaint remarks upon the subject of 
 the lesson, frequently threw the whole school 
 into an uproar of merriment, which rendered 
 discipline exceedingly difficult. But none of the 
 
The NiGHT-ScHOOL. 73 
 
 pupils brought more of downright earnestness 
 to bear upon his studies, or made more substan- 
 tial progress, than Jerry Coulehan. 
 
 Archie at first was disconcerted by the unex- 
 pected appearance of the several parties who 
 had done him so much injury. By degrees, 
 however, he managed to ignore their presence, 
 and become absorbed in his studies. He was 
 apt at learning, and found little difficulty in 
 leading his class. 
 
 Before the school was a month old some of 
 its members began to prove themselves quite 
 unruly. As the novelty of the situation wore 
 away, their ardor in the pursuit of knowledge 
 abated. To borrow Jerry Coulehan's figure, 
 they were shallow vessels, filled with their first 
 sup of learning. It seemed to irritate them 
 that others were diligent in study, and were 
 making a serious business of the opportunity 
 which the night-school presented. Mr. Pan- 
 coast bore the annoyance quietly for awhile, in 
 the hope that the troublesome parties would 
 soon weary of the school, and cease their at- 
 tendance. His experience elsewhere justified 
 the belief that this would be the case at Cam- 
 erton. But in this expectation he was disap- 
 pointed. He found, at last, that he had on his 
 hands a set of young fellows who would neither 
 study themselves nor let the rest study; nor 
 
74 Camerton Slope. 
 
 would they, despite his pointed remarks on 
 several evenings at the opening of the school, 
 discontinue their attendance when they had no 
 longer any desire to learn. The ordinary arts 
 of annoyance — such as throwing paper wads, 
 tobacco quids, etc., across the room at the more 
 studious pupils; loud coughing; scraping the 
 floor with their feet; and making other unneces- 
 sary noises — soon became too tame for these 
 turbulent spirits, and they began to invent other 
 methods of interruption. 
 
 One night Jerry Coulehan brought to school 
 with him an old arm-chair, as he found the 
 school benches hard and uncomfortable. It was 
 a low-back, split-bottom chair, of a pattern 
 much in vogue in the mining region, with the 
 thinnest apology of a rag-cushion covering the 
 seat. The next night, after school had com- 
 menced, Tim McCoy came marching in, carry- 
 ing a chair of the same identical pattern, and 
 cushioned in the same way as Jerry Coulehan's. 
 Tim set his chair down close beside Jerry's, with 
 the remark: 
 
 "Us old men has got to make ourselves as 
 comfortable as we can; eh, Jerry?" 
 
 With the utmost assurance, Tim then seated 
 himself in his chair, and, opening his book, 
 pretended to be very much absorbed in study. 
 
 *'Shure an' it 's a pity, ye young vagabond," 
 
The Night-School. 75 
 
 said Jerry, in an angry tone, ^'tliat ye haven't 
 got somebody to whale ye into a dacent respect 
 for them as is oulder than yer own daddy." 
 
 A titter, all over the room, greeted this epi- 
 sode. The teacher at once commanded silence, 
 and ordered Tim to remove -his chair to his own 
 side of the room. Mr. Pancoast had already 
 resolved not to endure the increasing annoy- 
 ances any longer, and was now only debating 
 as to how many of his pupils deserved to be in- 
 cluded in the edict of expulsion. 
 
 After this, however, for the rest of the even- 
 ing, and for several evenings following, all went 
 well. An unaccountable change seemed to have 
 come over the spirit of the disturbers. They 
 applied themselves to their books as they had 
 not done before. The teacher began to hope 
 that they were at length shamed out of their 
 evil ways, and had begun to appreciate the ad- 
 vantages which they had hitherto seemed to 
 despise. The other pupils wondered at the un- 
 usual quietness and good behavior of the unruly 
 ones; and indeed, for a little while, Mr. Pan- 
 coast could justly pride himself that his school 
 was becoming scarcely less than a model. 
 
 But, alas! the teacher had congratulated 
 himself too early. The better era was soon 
 rudely interrupted. It proved to be but the 
 deceitful lull before the bursting of the storm. 
 
DISTURBANCE BEGINS. 
 
 TERRY COULEHAN had been to the black- 
 ^ board to '*do a sum" in the presence of 
 his class. It was his especial delight to be se- 
 lected for such a duty. He usually made it the 
 occasion for a grand display, not only of his 
 skill in figures, but also of his oratorical and 
 dramatic abilities. With a piece of chalk about 
 the size of his fist, he had covered a large part 
 of the board with a line of great, scrawling fig- 
 ures, and, with an exuberance of language and 
 gesture peculiarly his own, he proceeded to ex- 
 pound the mysteries of 'Mong division." No 
 demonstrator in any branch of science ever ex- 
 hibited a keener enthusiasm or a loftier sense 
 of self-importance than Jerry on tliis occasion. 
 '' It 's twenty-four into fifty-two thousand five 
 hnndred and seventy^^^ he remarked, as he fin- 
 ished putting the example on the board. 
 76 
 
Disturbance Begins. 77 
 
 ''Mr. Coulehan," said the teacher, "your fig- 
 ures are too large; you will not have room to 
 carry the example out." 
 
 "I'm makin' thim large so they will all be 
 able to see them," said Jerry; "and onyhow, 
 Mr. Pancoast, a baby blackboard like this is n't 
 fit for a man to work on." 
 
 By the teacher's request, however, Jerry 
 rubbed out his work, and reduced his figures 
 to a fraction of their former size. 
 
 " Twenty-four mio five won't go at all," said 
 Jerry. "Do ony o' ye say that it willV^ he in- 
 quired, as he turned to the class, swinging the 
 chalk above his head. "Therefore, gintlemen," 
 he continued, "it must be twenty-four into fifty- 
 two. Do yez see that? Now, how mony times 
 will that go?" 
 
 " Wunst," said one of the men. 
 
 " Wunst did ye say, me honey? Faith," con- 
 tinued Jerry, in his most triumphant manner, 
 " ye must ha' been foreordained for a perfessor 
 uv mathematics. It goes twice., gintlemen; 
 twice., I say, and something over. We '11 now 
 perceed to ascertain how much there 's over." 
 
 "Mr. Coulehan," said the teacher, "you are 
 wasting too much time. Please do the work 
 with as little talking as possible." 
 
 "Wasting time is it, Misthur Pancoast? 
 Sorry to differ wi' ye, sir; but surely, sir, time 
 
78 Camerton Slope. 
 
 can not be said to be wasted when it 's spint in 
 the illustration uv great principles." 
 
 It availed very little, however, to expostulate 
 with Jerry, or to attempt to hurry him out of 
 his usual pace. His expositions had, in general, 
 the merit of clearness; and tlie time which they 
 consumed was not wholly spent in vain. 
 
 But Jerry's appearance at the board furnished 
 the occasion for a '* regular circus " to the rest 
 of the school. Mr. Pancoast's keen sense of 
 humor led him to relax discipline at such times, 
 and to wink at a kind of disorder not usually 
 tolerated. 
 
 Jerry returned to his chair, after the exercise 
 at the board was over, wiping his face with his 
 old red bandanna handkerchief, and feeling quite 
 satisfied with his performance. Scarcely had 
 he sunk into his seat, however, with the heavy 
 lunge of an old man, when suddenly he gave 
 utterance to a startling yell like that of a wild 
 Indian, and, leaping to his feet, slapped his 
 hands behind him like one possessed, while a 
 sudden burst of laughter in one corner of the 
 room broke the momentary stillness which 
 Jerry's strange antics had produced. 
 
 Jerry turned quickly around, tore the cushion 
 from the seat of his chair, and, holding the latter 
 up to the light, discovered a sharp-pointed, steel 
 wire protruding through the bottom. At the 
 
Disturbance Begins. 79 
 
 same moment, lie found out, also, that the chair 
 was not his own, though it was in the place 
 which his chair had occupied ever since he 
 first brought it to school. 
 
 Irritated no less by the laughter, which came 
 all from one direction, than by the trick that 
 had been played upon him, he concluded at once 
 that the parties who found such keen enjoyment 
 in the affair were the guilty authors of it ; and 
 before any one could divine his purpose, he had 
 sprung across the room, with the chair in his 
 hand, and brought it down with tremendous 
 force on Tim McCoy's head. It was well for 
 Tim that he was able partially to dodge the 
 blow. 
 
 "Take yer chair, ye miserable whelp!" cried 
 the furious old man, and he was about to strike 
 again; but by this time, he was surrounded by 
 the teacher and half a dozen of the men, who 
 wrenched the chair away from him, while all 
 the rest of the school looked on in utter be- 
 wilderment. 
 
 "Did iver ye see the like?" panted Jerry, as 
 he found himself forced down upon one of the 
 benches. "If it wasn't the son uv me ould 
 friend, Pat McCoy, I'd bate him till he wudn't 
 know whin he was hinder part before." 
 
 " What right have yer got to blame it on 
 me?" asked Tim, with a cool defiance in his 
 
So Camerton Slope. 
 
 tone that was in strange contrast with Jerry's 
 excited manner. *' Yer ain't much uv a lawyer, 
 Mr. Coulehan, if yer don't know that ye 've 
 made yerself liable by what ye 've done to me 
 to-night." 
 
 The excitement of the pupils was all the 
 greater because up to this moment scarcely any 
 of them knew the reason of Jerry's fierce as- 
 sault upon Tim. An examination of the chair, 
 however, soon explained the whole matter. 
 
 ** I '11 bet it's some more of Tim McCoy's 
 devilment," whispered Mac Castle to Archie, as 
 the two stood looking on in utter astonishment. 
 ^'But he's tackled the wrong coon this time; 
 and he 's goin' to get left." 
 
 It was certainly Tim McCoy's chair into 
 which Jerry had thrown himself after he had 
 finished his work at the blackboard. But how 
 had the chair been substituted for Jerry's? and 
 when was it done? 
 
 The general opinion seemed to be that the 
 change was made in the period of disorder which 
 occurred while Jerry was entertaining all parties 
 at the blackboard. But though it was certain 
 that quite a number of the pupils had left their 
 seats and gathered about the class that was at 
 the blackboard, no one had seen the one chair 
 substituted for the other. Tim was able to prove, 
 however, that he had not occupied his chair for 
 
Disturbance Begins. 8i 
 
 several evenings. He had got tired of it, he said, 
 and it had remained unoccupied, in another part 
 of the room — the very place where Jerry's chair 
 now was. But notwithstanding this, the dispo- 
 sition to connect him with the affair was very 
 general, and the feeling against him was very 
 decided. The only explanation which he offered 
 was as follows : 
 
 '' I fixes my chair to suit myself. It 's to 
 keep the cushion from slippin' off. If fellows 
 sits down in my chair and do n't like it, let 'em 
 keep out uv it. If them sentiments is wropg, 
 gentlemen, I 'm sorry ; but I can't help it." 
 
 Tim's air of injured innocence and downright 
 bravado would have been convincing had he 
 not already been detected in so many petty 
 schemes of annoyance, and in this case all the 
 circumstances were against him. All through 
 the school he had taken especial delight in 
 teasing Jerry; and, even before this last exploit, 
 he had forfeited the old man's good opinion 
 and aroused his resentment. 
 
 After the excitement had subsided in a meas- 
 ure, Mr. Pancoast asked all the pupils to take 
 their seats and give him their attention for a 
 few minutes. He had been greatly pleased, he 
 said, with the good conduct of most of his 
 pupils, and also with the progress they were mak- 
 ing in their studies. It was very evident, how- 
 
82 Camerton Slope. 
 
 ever, that there were those among them who had 
 no desire to learn, and whose further continuance 
 in the school would be an annoyance and a 
 hindrance to those who were studious. The 
 time had now come to employ the winnowing 
 process which he had found needful elsewhere. 
 He made no reference to what had occurred 
 that evening, but announced that Tim McCoy, 
 Sam Smallwood, and two others, were expelled 
 from the school for neglect of their studies and 
 disorderly conduct in general. 
 
 After this episode the school began to get on 
 finely. The chief disturbers gone, and others 
 who had been under their influence awed into 
 good behavior and something like diligence in 
 study, Mr. Pancoast's school became increasingly 
 popular. Other pupils came in to take the 
 places of those who had been dismissed, until 
 all the available space was taken up, and it be- 
 came needful to refuse admission to any others. 
 
 But "troubles never come single-handed." 
 Scarcely had the school finished congratulating 
 itself on its riddance of the chief disturbers 
 when a new interruption occurred. The boy 
 who acted as janitor, in making the fire one even- 
 ing, found that the stove would not "draw." 
 After several ineffectual attempts to kindle the 
 fire, he gave up in despair. The room was filled 
 with a blinding, suffocating smoke at the time 
 
Disturbance Begins. 83 
 
 for opening the school. It was impossible to go 
 on with the regular exercises, and teacher and 
 pupils resolved themselves into a "Committee 
 of the Whole" to locate and remedy the diffi- 
 culty with the fire. 
 
 The windows were opened on all sides to get 
 rid of the smoke. The stovepipe was taken 
 down, and thoroughly examined ; the chimney- 
 flue also was explored as far as was possible, but 
 nothing was found out which served to explain 
 the mystery. The fire was kindled afcesh, and 
 again the dense smoke poured out into the 
 room, and presently drove all the inmates as be- 
 fore, coughing and wiping their eyes, out into 
 the open air for relief. 
 
 " The divil himself must be in that chimbly," 
 remarked Pete Donahue, one of the men pupils. 
 
 " Yis, or, more likely, wan uv his imps," sug- 
 gested Jerry Coulehan. 
 
 The old building was by this time surrounded 
 by a lot of the pupils, watching to see if any 
 smoke came out of the top of the chimney. 
 
 " Not a bit," said a chorus of voices. 
 
 " There is some stoppage in that flue, surely," 
 said Mr. Pancoast ; " we shall have to give 
 it up for this evening, and to-morrow we will 
 have the flue examined by daylight, and find 
 out what the trouble is." 
 

 SEARCHING FOR THE ENEMY. 
 
 AFTER most of the pupils had weaned of 
 loitering about the building, and had 
 started home, Archie Atkins, who seemed to 
 have his eyes fixed upon one certain point, re- 
 marked : 
 
 "Boys, did any of you see a face at that 
 window just now?" pointing to one of the up- 
 per-story windows. 
 
 " No," was the response of several. 
 
 " I 'm almost certain / did," said Archie. 
 
 " Is that so ?" replied Silas Coleman, a short, 
 thickset young man, who stood near Archie. 
 " Say, fellows," he continued, turning to several 
 others who were jnst leaving, "don't go away. 
 Mebbe there '11 be some fun yet. Archie At- 
 kins thinks he saw somebody in yon window 
 just now." 
 
 "I don't believe a bit of it, and I ain't a 
 84 
 
Searching for the Enemy. 85 
 
 goin' to stay here and freeze, any longer," said 
 Tom Scott. 
 
 *' Right you are," chimed in Bill Stubbins. 
 " Archie's got a chunk o' that blamed smoke in 
 his eye; that's all's the matter with him. Go 
 home, Archie, and wash it' out," he added, as 
 with several others he started off at a brisk 
 pace. 
 
 " Yes," said Archie, " I '11 be with you pres- 
 ently, when I find out who 's up-stairs. I 'm 
 sorry, boys, that you're afraid to go up. there 
 with us." 
 
 A shout of derision was the only answer to 
 this bit of banter ; and then Mac Castle came 
 near to the center of the remaining group, asking: 
 
 " Archie, who did you see in that window?" 
 
 " Unless I 'm worse mistaken than I ever was 
 in my life before," said Archie, " I saw Sam 
 Smallwood." 
 
 " Just as like as not," remarked Silas Cole- 
 man. "Boys," he continued, "it won't take us 
 long to settle the matter. I^et 's stay here and 
 see what's what." 
 
 "Agreed," said all the rest. 
 
 There were just seven of the pupils still 
 remaining, and Silas Coleman was the oldest of 
 the group. He was well-fitted to lead such an 
 enterprise. Strongly built, and active, decid- 
 edly fond of a bit of adventure now and then, 
 
S6 Came i^ TON Slope. 
 
 and almost a stranger to fear, the others were 
 quite willing to follow his suggestions. 
 
 " We have n't got any key," said Silas, " and 
 we can't get it, for it 's locked up in the com- 
 pany's office ; but I guess we can soon find a 
 ladder that '11 reach to one o' the windows. The 
 rest o' you fellows stay here on guard," he 
 added, " and Mac and I '11 go to Chris Marks's 
 house, and see if we can get a ladder." 
 
 Chris Marks was one of the mine carpenters, 
 and had charge of the shop in which the lad- 
 ders were kept. It was a good while before 
 Silas and Mac returned. Marks was not at 
 home, and when at last they found him in a 
 grocery-store, he had to send to his house for 
 the key of the shop. But Silas made good use 
 of the delay to secure the loan of a dark-lantern 
 from the mine watchman. 
 
 Meantime the rest of the boys surrounded 
 the old church so that they might watch it 
 on all sides ; and to keep themselves warm they 
 marched in regular procession, at a lively gait, 
 round and round the building, all the while 
 keeping up a constant lookout. 
 
 When, at length, Silas and Mac returned, 
 carrying the ladder upon their shoulders, all 
 parties were pretty well warmed up with their 
 exercise, and were in good spirits to begin their 
 search of the upper story. 
 
Searching for the Enemy. 87 
 
 The building was an odd, unsiglitly pile, 
 cruciform in shape, and built of stones, which 
 were, for the most part, unhewn and rough- 
 looking. On the inside, the various uses to 
 which the room had been put in recent years 
 had multiplied the crannies and corners and 
 possible hiding-places. There were but few of 
 the original pews remaining in place, but seats 
 had been extemporized with boards and piles of 
 lumber. Big store-boxes, that had done service 
 in various bazaars and fairs, were piled up one on 
 top of the other in the rear of the room. -It 
 was a ghostly-looking old place, unusually large 
 for a village church ; and rumor had it that it 
 was haunted. • 
 
 The ladder was quickly put in place on the 
 rising ground at the rear window, on the side 
 toward the village. The three youngest boys 
 were instructed to continue their march around 
 the building, while the other four were making 
 the search. Silas Coleman went up first, carry- 
 ing the dark-lantern in his hand, with Mac 
 Castle following close at his heels. 
 
 "Two of us is enough on this ladder at 
 once," said Silas. ''Archie, you and Bill Nash 
 stay down till we get in." 
 
 At first it seemed impossible to get the 
 window open. The lower sash was prevented 
 from rising by a nail in a gimlet-hole bored 
 
88 Camerton Slope. 
 
 into the window-casing, evidently for that very- 
 purpose. This obstacle Silas found out by un- 
 covering the bulPs-eye of his lantern, and look- 
 ing through the window. 
 
 " Might as well be hung fur a sheep as a 
 lamb," said Silas. " I 'm agoin' to bust the 
 window and get that nail out. Keep yer face 
 down, Mac, so the glass do n't cut ye." 
 
 So saying, Silas tapped on the glass with the 
 end of his heavy pocket-knife, and quickly had 
 a hole big enough to put his hand inside and re- 
 move the loose nail. Then, raising the sash, 
 and holding it up with his head, he again un- 
 covered the bull's-eye of his lantern and peered 
 into the building, turning the light around. 
 
 "All's quiet on the Potomac," he remarked; 
 and in another minute, both Mac and Silas 
 had crawled inside of the building. Archie 
 and Bill Nash now ascended the ladder, and 
 all four were ready to begin the search. 
 
 "Say, you fellows!" cried Silas, in a loud 
 tone of voice. " If ye' re in here, ye might jest 
 as well show yerselves as not, fur we 're goin' 
 to hunt till we find ye." 
 
 A slight echo in the other part of the room 
 was the only answer to this challenge. 
 
 " Save your breath, Silas," said Archie. 
 " They 're not going to show themselves, you 
 may be sure." 
 
Searching for the Enemy, 89 
 
 The search was then begun in good earnest. 
 The light was flashed under every pew, behind 
 every pile of lumber, and into every store-box. 
 
 *'What does this mean?" said Archie, sud- 
 denly, as he stood by the door. 
 
 Silas turned the light in that direction, and 
 saw — as did all the others — the key standing in 
 the lock. 
 
 '* That door 's been locked from the inside," 
 said Mac Castle. 
 
 " Not a bit o' doubt about that," replied 
 Silas, his eyes fairly dancing with delight at 
 the discovery. " Them coons are in here, 
 sure 's a gun ; and they came in through the 
 door." 
 
 The search was now resumed with the utmost 
 confidence of success ; but it soon became evident 
 that the parties they sought were not to be found 
 in the main audience-room. Then the little 
 room back of the pulpit, the end gallery, the 
 stairways leading up to it, the closets under the 
 stairs, the vestibule — all were thoroughly ex- 
 plored under the searching light poured forth 
 in a steady stream from the bull's-eye of the 
 lantern ; but no human being was found in 
 lurking anywhere. 
 
 " There 's only one other place," said Silas. 
 
 *'The spire!" chimed in the rest in a chorus. 
 
 *'Yes," answered Silas, in a sort of medita- 
 7 
 
90 Camerton Slope. 
 
 tive mood, *' the spire ; and it 's a mighty tick- 
 lish place to go up. If the rascals are up there, 
 they 've got the bulge on us ; they can crack 
 our heads, and not half try." 
 
 " I guess we 'd better keep out o' that spire," 
 said Bill Nash. "This is the only head I've 
 got ; and I believe the scalawags is up there, 
 and they're loaded fur us; that's why they're 
 keepin' so quiet. I would n't risk it." 
 
 There was cold truth in these suggestions, 
 and the effect was rather depressing to the en- 
 thusiasm of the explorers. 
 
 *' What shall we do?" said Mac. 
 
 " I know what I''m goin' to do," answered 
 Silas ; " I'm goin' up in that spire. I 'm goin' 
 far enough up to find out if anybody's up there; 
 but I don't want any o' you fellows to go." 
 
 " Silas," said Archie, in an earnest tone, " I 
 think you'd better not go up; it's too danger- 
 ous. The chaps that are up there left their 
 mark on Mac and me once before, in a place 
 where we could n't help ourselves, and before 
 they '11 be caught now, they '11 break the head 
 of every fellow in the crowd." 
 
 ''They sha'n't break you fellows' heads," re- 
 plied Silas, ''for I ain't a goin' to let you go up. 
 This is 7ny job, and I 'm goin' through with it, 
 if it 's the last thing I ever do. All I want to 
 know is whether they 're in that spire or not.'* 
 
Searching for the Enemy. 91 
 
 Seeing that it was useless to attempt to dis- 
 suade Silas from his purpose of going up into 
 the spire alone, the others could do no more 
 than merely agree to stand by, and be ready to 
 give him any assistance that might become 
 necessary. The outside guard were first hailed 
 through the window, and told what was now to 
 take place, and then the party started for the 
 end gallery, from the back part of which a 
 door opened into the dismal hole that led up 
 into the spire. 
 
 The door, being fastened only by a button, 
 was easily opened, and then Silas, raising the 
 light above his head, endeavored to explore the 
 spire on all sides as far up as possible. This 
 doiTe, he cried out in a loud voice : 
 
 " Sam Smallwood, come down out o' that 
 spire. We know that ye 're up there, an' 'taint a 
 bit o' use fur to try to hide yerselves. Come 
 down, boys," he repeated after a pause, *' and 
 save us the trouble o' hunting ye." 
 
 The tones of Silas's voice had a strange and 
 hollow sound, as they reverberated in the 
 heights above his head, and when at length they 
 died away into silence, it became evident that 
 his second attempt to communicate with the 
 parties supposed to be within hearing distance, 
 was no more of a success than the first had been. 
 
 Silas now began his preparation for the 
 
92 Camerton Slope, 
 
 ascent, by taking off his coat. He was dressed 
 after the style preferred by very many of the 
 miners. The evening dress was, in fact, a 
 counterpart of the regular mining suit, but, of 
 course, cleaner and better fitting — a heavy blue 
 shirt, and pantaloons fastened about the waist 
 by a leather belt, instead of suspenders. He 
 unbuckled his belt, and thrust it through the 
 handle of his lantern, thus fastening the lan- 
 tern to his waist, and leaving the bull's-eye un- 
 covered, to illuminate the way before him. By 
 this means both his hands were left free to assist 
 his ascent, and to defend himself if it should 
 become necessary. 
 
SILAS ASCENDING THE TOWER. 
 
S| 
 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 BBBK'""--' 
 
 ^'^i:'- m 
 
 f:'-'^^':^'*!' •■■:;=«- . ^ 
 
 CAUGHT IN THEIR OWN TRAP. 
 
 THERE were no stairs leading up into the 
 (^ spire; but for some distance the ascent was 
 made comparatively easy by a succession of 
 braces and cross-beams running in all direc- 
 tions, and only a few feet apart. Standing on 
 one of these, Silas could easily reach to the one 
 next above it, and pull himself successively from 
 one to the other. 
 
 After two or three "lifts" of this sort, he 
 would stop for rest, and turning his light up- 
 ward, endeavor to explore the space above him. 
 He might be said to be on familiar ground, as 
 it was not the first time that he had climbed to 
 the top of the spire ; but as his several trips 
 had been made in daylight heretofore, and with- 
 out any fear of an enemy lurking above him, 
 his progress on this occasion was necessarily 
 slower, and much more difficult than ever before. 
 
 93 
 
94 Camerton Slope. 
 
 His policy was to keep well in the center oi 
 the spire, where the beams, crossing and re- 
 crossing each other above him, afforded greater 
 protection. 
 
 More than half of the upward journey had 
 in this way been accomplished, and Silas was 
 beginning to question whether the spire really 
 contained any one besides himself, when, all at 
 once, just as he took hold of the brace next 
 above him for another " lift," with every sense 
 on the alert, his ear caught a sound in the space 
 above him, as of something thrown or falling, 
 and he dodged quickly under the partial pro- 
 tection of the friendly piece of scantling. But 
 despite this precaution, he was struck on the 
 side by a brickbat, flung with great violence 
 from the height above, and with an aim that 
 would not have missed his head, had he not 
 dodged under the beam. As it was, the missile 
 merely glanced along his side, but with such a 
 force that for a moment he turned faint, and was 
 fearful that he should lose his senses. Yet, not- 
 withstanding his injury, he promptly answered 
 with a yell of derision, and at the same instant 
 closed the slide of his lantern. 
 
 "No, ye didn't. Bah!" shouted Silas. '*Try 
 again, gentlemen !" 
 
 Never was a groan more heroically sup- 
 pressed, or more completely disguised. But 
 
Caught IN Their Own Trap. 95 
 
 for his derisive outburst he must have groaned 
 aloud under the pain of his hurt. He had pres- 
 ence of mind enough also quickly to change his 
 position, so as to spoil the aim of his assailants. 
 And it was well that he did so, for missiles of 
 various sorts quickly followed the first — bricks, 
 stones, short pieces of scantling, etc. 
 
 " The heavier the shower, the sooner it '11 
 be over," thought Silas, as he stood bracing 
 himself against the side of the spire, with his 
 arms raised to protect his face and head. Twice 
 more he was hit by random shots in the dark- 
 ness, but with nothing like as serious efFe.ct as the 
 first. At the moment when the general assault 
 began, the space above was filled with deep, 
 sepulchral groanings, and other hideous and 
 unearthly sounds, till it seemed as if the lost 
 spirits of the bottomless pit had taken up their 
 abode in the spire, and were resenting his inva- 
 sion of their own peculiar precincts. 
 
 *' They 're afraid they have n't hit me, and 
 now they're tryin' to scare me to death," said 
 Silas to himself, his spirits beginning to rise as 
 his spasm of pain passed off. 
 
 As soon as the shower of missiles was spent, 
 Silas began quietly to work his way downward 
 in the darkness. He paid no attention at first 
 to the anxious inquiries of his comrades below; 
 but when he was sufficiently near the Dottom to 
 
gd Camerton Slope. 
 
 make it impossible for any one above to take 
 aim at him again, he boldly uncovered his lan- 
 tern, and answered : 
 
 '' All right, boys ! They 're up there ! We 've 
 got them treed, sure !" 
 
 This announcement was greeted with a joy- 
 ful shout. It was a great relief to the boys to 
 find that Silas was still alive, and not even dis- 
 abled. When the storm of missiles, accom- 
 panied with such horrid noises, began, they 
 stood just outside the door at the bottom, every 
 moment expecting to hear Silas's dead body 
 come tumbling down. When, therefore, they 
 ascertained that the parties they sought were 
 really in the spire, and that Silas was coming 
 down in safety, their glee at the double discovery 
 may readily be imagined. No hunter was ever 
 more elated over the game which his rifle had 
 brought down, no professional detective ever 
 felt prouder of his most brilliant piece of work, 
 than did that group of boys at the outcome 
 of their adventure. They danced and shouted 
 for joy. 
 
 " There 's somebody up there," said Silas, 
 as he touched bottom again ; " and several of 
 him, I should say. The scalawags came very 
 nigh makin' a finish o' me, though, and I 'm 
 mighty glad I didn't let any o' the rest o' you 
 go up. If it had n't been for them cross-beams, 
 
Caught IN Their Own Trap. 97 
 
 my cocoanut would 'a' been cracked in more 
 places than one." 
 
 " I wish we knew who it is that 's up 
 there," said Bill Nash. 
 
 *' We '11 stay here till we find out," rejoined 
 Silas. 
 
 '* That's about the size of it," put in Mac. 
 
 "See here, boys," continued Silas; "it's 
 gettin' late, and our people won't know what's 
 become of us. I 'm tired, and the mark o' re- 
 spect that them fellows up there gave me just 
 now makes me a little lame. S'pose a couple 
 o' you fellows go to our houses, and tell all our 
 folks what we 're about, and bring us something 
 to eat. We' 11 have to make a night o' it, I 
 guess, unless them fellows see fit to come 
 down." 
 
 The outside guard had already been informed 
 of the result of the excursion into the spire. 
 They had plainly heard the noises, and knew 
 pretty well how to interpret them. At the call 
 of Silas they now ascended the ladder, and entered 
 the building for a resting spell, as Mac Castle 
 volunteered to stand on guard awhile alone. 
 
 "But there's no need to watch anything, 
 now, but the spire," he said, " and not much 
 need to watch that." 
 
 "There's the windows up there for them to 
 get out of," remarked Archie. 
 
98 . Camerton Slope. 
 
 *'Yes," answered Mac; ''but unless the old 
 boy helps 'em, they '11 never be able to climb 
 down that smooth spire." 
 
 Mac commenced his march in a sort of semi- 
 circle to and fro in front of the church, keeping 
 his eyes fixed on the spire windows ; wliile 
 Archie and Bill Nash went to the homes of all 
 the party to explain the situation, and bring 
 back something for a midnight supper. 
 
 In the meantime, Silas and his companions 
 set about making a fire in one of the two stoves 
 which the old church contained, breaking up 
 bits of board, old boxes, and anything else they 
 could find. In a few minutes they had a roaring 
 blaze in the stove, and they gathered about it 
 in high spirits. While they were resting them- 
 selves, and cracking their jokes at the expense 
 of their prisoners in the " spire-trap," as Silas 
 called it, the night-watchman, who had loaned 
 them his lantern, came along to learn how the 
 search was progressing. He had intended to be 
 there sooner, he said, buthis duties elsewherehad 
 detained him. As the building was "Company 
 property," it was under his care at night; and 
 he had authorized the search that had been so 
 successful. When he learned of the discovery 
 that had been made, he was in as great glee as 
 the rest. Presently others began to drop in, as 
 the news spread in various directions. Some of 
 
Caught IN Their Own Trap. 99 
 
 the villagers, who had gone to bed, got up and 
 dressed themselves, and hurried to join the 
 party in the old church ; so that by the time 
 Archie and Bill got back after their round, the 
 place was alive with lanterns and people. All 
 sorts of rough salutes and jocose remarks were 
 shouted through the doorway at the entrance 
 to the spire. 
 
 At length Paul Jenkins, the night watch- 
 man, commanded silence, and when all was 
 quiet, he called up the spire, and told its occu- 
 pants to come down. 
 
 '' There 's no use in stayin' up there, and 
 freezin' yerselves any longer," he said. " Come 
 down, boys, while we show you a light." 
 
 The bull's-eye of the watchman's lantern 
 was turned upward, and several other lanterns 
 were set in the lower part of the tower ; and 
 pretty soon it became evident from the move- 
 ments heard above, that the parties up there 
 had concluded to take the watchman's advice, 
 and were on their way down. 
 
 There were only three of them — Tim Mc- 
 Coy, Sam Smallwood, and Joe Andree. Tim 
 came to view first, followed closely by the other 
 two. A more crestfallen, sheepish -looking set 
 of fellows it would be impossible to imagine. 
 Benumbed with cold, and mortified beyond the 
 power of utterance at their ridiculous situa- 
 
loo Came ETON Slope, 
 
 tion, their pliglit was scarcely less than pitiable. 
 They were urged to come to the fire and warm 
 themselves ; and some of the bystanders took 
 hold of them with a kind of mock sympathy, 
 and pretended to chafe their limbs, but they 
 were glad enough at the earliest opportunity to 
 slink away in the darkness, and find refuge 
 from the teasing crowd in their own homes. 
 
 '' Yis, yis; go home, b'ys," said one old 
 Irishman, as he took his pipe out of his mouth. 
 " Give it up this toime, an' thry again some 
 other day. The luck was agin ye this toime." 
 
 " What was they a-doin' up there ?" asked a 
 newcomer, his eyes full of wonderment at the 
 scene. 
 
 '' Shure," said the old man who had just 
 spoken, " they thought they had a call to jine 
 the angels; an' they was on the way up." 
 
 " O, be that the way of it?" said an Euglish- 
 man. " I 'm glad I come ; I never seed a hangel 
 afore." 
 
 The interest was now diverted from these 
 parting shots at the retreating figures, by a dis- 
 covery that had just been made which explained 
 the " smoking-out " of the school that night. 
 
 Silas and his comrades had noticed in their 
 first search of the room, that the stovepipe of one 
 of the stoves had been taken down, and was lying 
 on the floor ; but so intent were they on other ob- 
 
Caught in Their Own Trap. ioi 
 
 jects, that they had taken little account of this cir- 
 cumstance. But now, other curious eyes, prying 
 into the hole where the stovepipe entered the 
 flue, discovered that the chimney was stuffed 
 full of damp hay. It was the chimney with 
 which the down-stairs stove was connected. 
 So, it appeared that the particular business of 
 Tim McCoy and his friends in the upper room 
 that night had been to place this obstruction in 
 the chimney; and they had enjoyed to the full 
 the embarrassment and consternation of the 
 teacher and pupils, little imagining what a dis- 
 mal turn the affair would take for them before it 
 was. ended. 
 
 In a day or two, every feature of the whole 
 miserable business came to light. Sam Small- 
 wood and Joe Andree were so chagrined at the 
 outcome of the plot, which had resulted in mak- 
 ing them a general laughing-stock, that they told 
 all about it. 
 
 At first, it had seemed to them the jolliest 
 sort of a thing to smoke out the school in re- 
 venge for their own expulsion. Tim had con- 
 trived some "business" as an excuse for going 
 to the company's office at the dinner-hour, when 
 only the office-boy was in charge ; and as he had 
 several times before been sent to the old church 
 on various errands, he knew where the key was 
 kept. He had no difficulty in securing it when 
 
I02 Camerton Slope. 
 
 the boy's back was turned. The rest of the 
 scheme was easily carried out. It was a very 
 simple matter, after dark that evening, to take 
 enough damp hay to the church to stop up the 
 chimney and cut oflf the draft. 
 
(ZtjapteF l^J. 
 
 SCHOOL CLOSES, AND WORK BEGINS. 
 
 SOME situations into which wrong-doers 
 bring themselves are so humiliating, and 
 so cruel in their exposure to public ridicule, that 
 no one thinks of resorting to any legal measures 
 for the punishment of the offenders. All Cam- 
 erton was laughing at the boys whose mean at- 
 tempt to embarrass the night-school had re- 
 sulted in such an out-and-out discomfiture to 
 themselves. No great harm had been done to 
 property or person; and the community — always 
 on the lookout in idle times for some new ex- 
 citement — had been furnished with a genuine 
 bit of adventure on the one hand, and, what was 
 even more welcome to the many, new victims 
 for their mirth-making propensities. 
 
 It could scarcely have added to the mortifica- 
 tion of the three boys if they had been sentenced 
 to a term in jail; and, certainly, no place on the 
 
 « 103 
 
I04 Camerton Slope. 
 
 face of the earth could have presented more dis- 
 comforts or positive torments to the hickless 
 trio than they found in their own village, where 
 everybody knew them and was diposed to chaft 
 them at every turn. The appearance of any 
 one of them on the street for the next few 
 days was the signal for a chorus of derisive 
 shouts, and a regular fusillade of rough jokes 
 from those who saw them. 
 
 Archie and Mac were standing at the post- 
 office door, waiting for the mail to open, the sec- 
 ond day after their adventure in the old church, 
 when, all at once, the movement of the crowd 
 which always assembled there at that hour in 
 the afternoon indicated that a subject had been 
 found for the daily merry-making. Sam Small- 
 wo©d and Joe Andree were seen passing along 
 the cross street in company, at no great dis- 
 tance from the post-office. Instantly a shout 
 went up, with cries of " Halt!" '' Put down that 
 hay!" "Come and get your mail!" etc. As 
 Sam and Joe took no notice of these invitations 
 other than to hurry on and get out of sight of 
 the crowd as soon as possible, half a dozen of the 
 latter started to run after them, and presently re- 
 appeared, arm in arm with their victims, whom 
 they compelled to face the crowd and listen to 
 the numerous uncomplimentary allusions to their 
 late inglorious adventure. 
 
School Closes, and Work Begins. 105 
 
 While this was going on outside, a man who 
 stood just inside the door remarked : 
 
 ''I ain't much on Scripture; but there's a 
 text that's just come to me, and I think it fits 
 these fellows very well." 
 
 "What is it?" inquired Mr. Shryock, to whom 
 the remark was addressed. 
 
 " It 's something about them that transgresses 
 finds it hard," replied the other. 
 
 " The way of transgressors is hard," said Mr. 
 Shryock, quoting the text to which the other 
 man alluded. 
 
 " Yes, that 's it," was the reply ; " some 
 people takes an awful sight o' pains to make 
 trouble for themselves." 
 
 As for Archie and Mac, they soon ascertained 
 that the affair in the old church had done some- 
 thing more for them than merely to make them 
 prominent in the public eye. Over and over 
 again they were compelled to tell the story of 
 the search, and to answer the numerous ques- 
 tions of various groups of listeners. But we 
 must do them the justice to say that it was no 
 mere feeling of gratified revenge that now pos- 
 sessed them. Publicly prosecuted as they had 
 been, and condemned upon a false charge, they 
 had lived from day to day upon the expectation 
 that they would yet be vindicated. 
 
 The late all-absorbing incident was some- 
 
io6 Camerton Slope. 
 
 how connected in the minds of the people with 
 the trespass trial which had resulted in so un- 
 just a sentence upon Mac and Archie. But the 
 tw^o boys were now in the popular mind fully 
 and finally cleared of that charge. The revul- 
 sion of feeling in their favor was as decided as 
 any legal reversal of the judgment against 
 them could have made it. Perhaps only those 
 who have walked under the dark cloud of unjust 
 condemnation for a season, and then have found 
 the popular confidence and favor returning to 
 them once more, can fully appreciate the 
 peculiar bearing of the late events upon the 
 standing of these two boys before the com- 
 munity. 
 
 As we have already seen, Sam Smallwood 
 and Joe Andree did not hesitate to relieve their 
 own mortification, and in some sense atone for 
 their part in the mischief, by exposing " the 
 wicked partner," who had devised the scheme 
 and led them on in every step of its execution. 
 
 They had enjoyed a great deal of fun, in the 
 early part of the evening, over the consterna- 
 tion of the teacher and pupils, who w^ere com- 
 pelled to rush out of doors every few minutes 
 to get a breath of fresh air. Most of the re- 
 marks, and proposed solutions of the difficulty, 
 could be distinctly heard by the trio in the up- 
 per room, and the coughing, the wiping of the 
 
School Closes, and Work Begins. 107 
 
 eyes, and involuntary tears of those down-stairs 
 were enjoyed to the full, and mimicked in 
 whispered tones. 
 
 They never dreamed of a search of the 
 building that night ; and when it was first pro- 
 posed, greeted the suggestion as a bit of Silas 
 Coleman's bragging. It was not until their 
 escape was cut off by the guard stationed around 
 the building, that they began to be really un- 
 comfortable about it. But even then it never 
 occurred to them for a moment that they would 
 be in any danger of discovery in the spire. It 
 seemed to be uttterly out of the question that 
 anybody would attempt to ascend the spire in 
 the darkness of the night, in pursuit of an 
 enemy. Still, for greater security, they pro- 
 vided themselves with what they considered to 
 be ample means of defense — brickbats, stones, etc. 
 
 But for this perfect sense of security, on 
 Tim's part at least, they would have taken an- 
 other chance of escape, suggested by Sam. It 
 was that they quietly open the door, make a 
 quick dash down stairs, and get away from the 
 building, paying no attention to the guard. 
 
 Tim, however, would not listen to this prop- 
 osition. To do a thing like that, he said, would 
 be to " give themselves away " entirely. For 
 they would certainly be recognized by the fel- 
 lows on guard. He was sure, he said, that if 
 
io8 Camerton Slope. 
 
 they took the trouble to climb up into the spire 
 for half an hour, they could then go home like 
 gentlemen, after Silas and his party had given 
 up the search. 
 
 How mistaken Tim was in his calculation 
 we have already seen. He was at first dum- 
 founded, and then grew desperate when he found 
 that Silas was actually on his way up the spire. 
 It was against the protest of the others that he 
 threw the brick, which came so near being fatal 
 to Silas. They were willing to join in trying 
 to frighten away pursuit, but not in seriously 
 injuring or killing anybody. 
 
 This, at least, was the story told by the two 
 boys, Sam and Joe. Meantime, Tim was no- 
 where to be found, much to the general disap- 
 pointment. All Camerton seemed anxious to 
 pay its respects to the "Imp of the Spire," as 
 the boys now began to call him. Upon inquiry 
 it was learned that he had thought it was a 
 good time to pay a long-promised visit to an 
 uncle living at a distance of twenty miles from 
 Camerton. To use the ordinary local phrase, 
 he had "cleared out between two days;" nor 
 did he return till he was summoned several 
 weeks later, together with all the other absen- 
 tees, to resume his place in the mine. 
 
 The regular spring opening of the Camerton 
 Slope came at an earlier date than usual. The 
 
School Closes, and Work Begins. 109 
 
 winter had not been long, but its unusual 
 severity, and the numerous deep snows, com- 
 bined with other causes, had greatly hindered 
 the work, and the winter's output of coal had 
 been very small. The men had worked only in 
 relays, a part of the mine a"t a time, each entry 
 taking a week in turn. 
 
 At the earliest possible period, however, all 
 parts of the mine were put to work in good 
 earnest, and Camerton took on once more its 
 characteristic appearance in working times. It 
 was a village where, in busy seasons, scarcely 
 anyone but women and children were to be seen 
 during the day, the men and older boys being 
 hard at work in the depths of the earth, under 
 the village itself, and for long distances beyond 
 in several directions. No one at all familiar 
 with the locality, ever needed to ask whether 
 the mine was working or not. In idle times 
 men and boys seemed to be swarming every- 
 where — in the grocery-stores, in the engine- 
 house near the mouth of the slope, or smoking 
 and chatting in one another's homes. Camer- 
 ton was described by a visitor as the livest and 
 the deadest place in the. country. 
 
 The night-school closed the next week after 
 the mine resumed regular work. There seemed 
 to be but one verdict concerning this first ex- 
 periment of the kind in educational work, in 
 
no Camerton Slope. 
 
 that neighborhood. It received the very gen- 
 eral commendation of the people. Quite a 
 number of the pupils had made marked prog- 
 gress. In others, who were at first indifferent, 
 Mr. Pancoast had succeeded in awakening a 
 real desire for knowledge ; and before the close 
 of the term he was engaged to open another 
 school in Camerton the next winter. 
 
THE CAMERTON LITERARY AND DEBATING 
 SOCIETY. 
 
 THE night-school bore fruit among the Cam- 
 erton people in ways that were not antici- 
 pated at the outset. Indeed, it seemed to be 
 the means of awakening the dormant intellect- 
 ual life of the community, and discovering to 
 quite a number possibilities of self-improve- 
 ment and avenues of enjoyment hitherto un- 
 known to them. 
 
 About two weeks after the close of the school, 
 some of tlie pupils posted up the following 
 notice on the bulletin-board, near the window of 
 the weigh-office: 
 
 "All the pupils of the Night-school, and any 
 others who may be interested in self-improve- 
 ment, are requested to meet in the basement of 
 the old church, on Friday night of this week, to 
 organize a Literary Society." 
 
 Ill 
 
112 Camerton Slope. 
 
 When Friday night rolled around, the place 
 was crowded with an assemblage that repre- 
 sented all classes and conditions of Camerton 
 people. The company's chief clerk, Mr. Ash- 
 ton, was chosen to preside over the meeting ; 
 and the general discussion which followed over 
 the plan of the society seemed to justify Jerry 
 Coulehan's remark : 
 
 ''All hands is jest a-spilin' fur a speech." 
 The meeting was long and very spirited ; 
 and the presiding officer had his hands full in 
 maintaining order and deciding who was en- 
 titled to the floor. There was in the main, how- 
 ever, great good-humor, and a hearty accept- 
 ance of the plan as finally decided upon. It 
 provided for a debate as the principal feature, 
 to be followed by declamations, the reading of 
 original compositions, and a critic's report. 
 The society was to be called " The Camerton 
 Literary and Debating Society." It was to 
 meet once a week, on Friday night. Every 
 member refusing to take the part assigned him 
 on the program was to be fined, unless he could 
 present a sufficient reason for his failure. Mr. 
 Ashton was chosen president for the first term 
 of three months ; and w4ien the meeting ad- 
 journed, it was apparent to every one that the 
 Camerton Literary and Debating Society bade 
 fair to open its sessions, on the following Friday 
 
LriERARY AND DEBATING SOCIETY. 1 1 3 
 
 night, with a full house and great enthusiasm. 
 Woman suffrage — *' Shall the Ballot be Given 
 to Women ?"^ — was the question selected for dis- 
 cussion at the first meeting. Archie Atkins had 
 been named as one of the debaters. He was 
 the junior on the affirmative side. His col- 
 leagues were Squire Hogan and Mr. Shryock. 
 The negative was led by Mr. Henderson, the 
 engineer of the stationary engine at the Slope, 
 with Jerry Coulehan and Sandy Cameron as 
 colleagues. 
 
 The week was one of much anxiety and 
 hard mental labor to most of the parties who 
 were down on the program. Most of the de- 
 baters had never taken much part in public 
 speaking. Jerry's experience was limited to 
 the part he had taken in what he persisted in 
 calling " the famous trespass case ;" and Mr. 
 Shryock's public speaking had been confined al- 
 together to Sunday-school and Church meetings. 
 
 Two young men were put down for original 
 • compositions who were wholly unused to such 
 work, and they were greatly distressed at the 
 appointment. One of them asked in utter de- 
 spair, when told that he was to write an original 
 essay, *'What does it mean, anyhow?" 
 
 The few books kept on sale in the village 
 stationery store, and also the private libraries, 
 were thoroughly ransacked for any hints which 
 
114 Camerton Slope. 
 
 might furnish assistance to the orators and 
 writers who were to take part in the grand 
 opening the following Friday night. 
 
 Other members of the society, also, knowing 
 that their turn would come, began to get ready. 
 Quite a number of them practiced recitation 
 inside the mine ; and in every entry, one might 
 hear snatches of " Spartacus to the Gladia- 
 tors," " Casabianca," ^'The Burial of Sir John 
 Moore," etc. 
 
 The rules of parliamentary practice also be- 
 gan to receive a good deal of attention. Men 
 who had taken part in political meetings and 
 Church meetings were appealed to for informa- 
 tion about "motions," "seconds," and "substi- 
 tutes." On one occasion all the knowing men 
 in the south entry were gathered together, to try 
 to settle what is meant by " the previous 
 question." 
 
 Out of this intellectual ferment and sudden 
 craving for information the local bookseller 
 reaped quite a harvest in orders for "Speakers," 
 books on composition and oratory and parlia- 
 mentary practice. 
 
 The Camerton people never did anything by 
 halves. Whatever might be the excitement of 
 the hour, it was sure to command very general 
 attention. It had the right of way to the ex- 
 clusion of almost everything else, no matter 
 
Liter AR v and Deb a ting Society. i i 5 
 
 what its real importance might be. Just now 
 the Camerton Literary and Debating Society 
 was the theme of conversation everywhere. It 
 aroused a fever of interest which had all the 
 marks of a contagion. Among men, women, and 
 children, inside the Slope and out, in the 
 kitchens and "living-rooms" at home, in the 
 ordinary "country-born" language, and in the 
 brogue and dialect of the various foreign-born 
 peoples that had made their home in Camerton, 
 no other topic could hold its place in the daily 
 conversation when once the Camerton Literary 
 and Debating Society had been introduced ; 
 and it was introduced everywhere, and on all 
 occasions. 
 
 One of the last to take the infection was 
 Tim McCoy. At first he hooted at it, and made 
 all manner of fun of the "spouters." But no 
 one in Camerton welcomed the new excitement 
 more than Tim. He saw his opportunity to 
 rid himself measurably of the odium and unen- 
 viable prominence which his late misadventure 
 in the old church had inflicted upon him. Tim, 
 in truth, had seen a hard time since his return 
 from his visit. He was better able, however, to 
 fight his battle and retaliate upon his torment- 
 ors than most of them would have been in 
 his situation. Never did his low cunning, apt- 
 ness at repartee, and readiness to take advan- 
 
ii6 Camerton Slope. 
 
 tage of the weaknesses and blunders of otliers, 
 stand him in better stead than on this occasion, 
 when he was compelled to run the gauntlet of 
 the Camerton wits, and serve as the butt of ridi- 
 cule for alLclasses. 
 
 If Tim had employed all his time for the 
 past few v/eeks in studying up the pedigree of 
 the Camerton people in general, or in subject- 
 ing each person's character to a sort of micro- 
 scopic examination for the discovery of its flaws, 
 he could not have been better furnished than he 
 was for the encounter. 
 
 Tim was not popular in the community. 
 His nature was by no means lovable, and his 
 principles were too lax to command the general 
 esteem. But besides this, his alertness in gibe 
 and jest had given him the advantage over very 
 many in the wordy encounters which were very 
 frequent, inside the mine and out. In the use 
 of billingsgate he had no superior among the 
 boys of anywhere near his own age. He had 
 made the most of his ability in this direction, 
 and had played the bully even over young fel- 
 lows much older than himself, with the result 
 that he had succeeded in getting himself pretty 
 thoroughly disliked. His ascendency over some 
 of the boys was due to mingled fear of him and 
 admiration for his superior abilities. 
 
 No one knew better than Tim himself, how- 
 
Literary and Debating Society. 117 
 
 ever, that for once he had been canght napping. 
 He had made himself ridiculous in the public 
 eye, and would have to pay the penalty. But 
 he was determined to make the work of tor- 
 menting him as costly as possible to all who 
 attempted it. He struck back at his assailants 
 without mercy. He opened up chapters of per- 
 sonal and family history which had the effect 
 of compelling some of the chaffing crowd to beat 
 a hasty retreat. 
 
 "Better let that boy alone," said Mr. Ashton, 
 the head clerk. "He is opening up the closets, 
 and dragging out every family skeleton in the 
 place. What a delight he takes in parading 
 them before the eyes of the people!" 
 
 The Literary Society furnished the people 
 with a new theme, much to Tim's relief, as it 
 was now possible for him to miugle once more 
 with the various crowds of men and boys with- 
 out being perpetually on the rack to defend him- 
 self from their rough jokes. 
 
 About this time a chance circumstance threw 
 Tim in the way of Mr. Shryock. Never before 
 had any one appealed to the better nature of 
 the boy so directly as Mr. Shryock did that day, 
 and not altogether without effect. As we have 
 before intimated, Mr. Shryock had that kind of 
 standing auiong the miners which superior in- 
 telligence and a blameless life always give. He 
 
ii8 Camerton Slope. 
 
 pointed out to Tim the folly and utter useless- 
 ness of the course he had been pursuing. He 
 asked him, for the sake of others as well as 
 himself, to quit his ridicule of the boys who 
 were just beginning to take hold of the work of 
 mental improvement. Perhaps, however, the 
 motive which had most weight with Tim was 
 furnished by the suggestion that he possessed 
 natural abilities, which, if rightly directed, 
 would elevate him to a higher position in life 
 than he could possibly reach by following his 
 uncurbed propensities for idleness and mischief. 
 
 Tim was not without respect for Mr. Shryock, 
 and he went so far as to thank him for his good 
 advice, and promised to leave the other boys 
 alone. In fact, Tim began to share the prevail- 
 ing view of the Literary Society. 
 
 ''It's a mill, gentlemen," he said, ''to turn 
 out big guns — men what '11 make speeches, and 
 go to Congress, and write books, and such like. 
 I 'm a-goin' to take a hand in it myself, if they '11 
 let me." 
 
 Visions of coming greatness had dawned 
 upon not a few of the Camerton young men in 
 the last few weeks, since the Literary Society 
 had been under discussion; and the effect was, 
 in general, stimulating and wholesome. 
 
 Friday night found a crowd in the school- 
 house which put standing-room at a premium. 
 
Literary and Debating Society. 119 
 
 Those having parts on the program might be 
 distinguished from the others, not only by their 
 burdened and anxious manner, but by their evi- 
 dent care to make a presentable appearance — 
 they had their Sunday clothes on. 
 
 It may be observed just here that the aver- 
 age Camerton miner, in ordinary evening-dress, 
 bore the unmistakable marks of his calling. 
 Not only were his ''finger-nails in mourning," 
 but the eyes also. The obstinate dark circles 
 about his eyelids — the distinctive badge of his 
 occupation — lingered, as a rule, through the 
 week, no matter how clean the rest of his face 
 might be, till the regular and more thorough 
 "washing-up for Sunday." It was allowable to 
 carry black eyes through the week, but to so 
 appear on Sunday was to lose caste. 
 
 The orators, readers, etc., at the opening ses- 
 sion of the Literary Society, were in their best 
 possible trim. There was nothing to indicate 
 that any of them had that day been delving in a 
 coal-mine, and had come out of it, a few hours 
 before, as black from head to foot as the deni- 
 zens of Darkest Africa. 
 
 The debate was a real surprise to most per- 
 sons present. For '' first attempts," it discov- 
 ered a spirit and a degree of ability which could 
 scarcely have been counted on in advance. 
 Jerry Coulehan made a characteristic speech, 
 
 9 
 
I20 Camerton Slope. 
 
 which brought down the house with thunders 
 of applause. Archie was terribly frightened ; 
 but he had prepared himself with great care, 
 and, with the assistance of his notes, got through 
 his short maiden speech with tolerable credit, 
 and furnished no doubtful assistance to his side 
 in the argument. 
 
 Tom Peters, one of the young men who was 
 down for a declamation, could not be found 
 when his name was called. 
 
 " I guess he 's runned away," said an urchin 
 in the back part of the room. **1 saw him 
 go out." 
 
 " So did I," chimed in several other voices. 
 
 It turned out that this surmise was a fact. 
 Tom grew faint-hearted as his part grew nearer, 
 and disappeared as quietly as he could. 
 
 When the program was finished, tlie presi- 
 dent stated that, by the rules adopted for their 
 government, Tom Peters would be fined ten 
 cents for failing to take the part assigned him. 
 
 " Mr. President," said Jerry Coulehan, '< the 
 circumstances in this case is aggrawatin'. I 
 move you, sur, that we stick a fine uv a dollar 
 onto this gentleman, for contempt uv court." 
 
 After considerable discussion, it was decided 
 that there was no power to impose any fine upon 
 Tom Peters in addition to the ten cents fixed by 
 the rules. 
 
A CALAMITY IN THE SOUTH ENTRY. 
 
 7\> vS the summer advanced, a new and pecii- 
 -^^ liar danger loomed up before the miners 
 of the south entry — a danger from which the 
 other parts of the mine were exempt by reason 
 of higher situation and distance. The men be- 
 gan to hold frequent and anxious conferences 
 with each other to determine what it was best 
 for them to do. 
 
 Before the last season had closed, the passage- 
 way known as the south entry had reached the 
 boundary-line of the company's land, in a di- 
 rection southward from the bottom of the slope. 
 The men that drove the entry then received 
 orders to change its direction from south to 
 southeast, the intention being to proceed along 
 the exact line of the company's property. 
 
 The order for this change of direction occa- 
 sioned a good deal of surprise among the men. 
 
J22i Camerton Slope. 
 
 An entry in a mine — as we have already seen — 
 is a narrow passage-way proceeding usually in 
 such a direction as to allow rooms to branch off 
 from it on the upper side. Seldom or never 
 are such rooms started from the lower, or "dip," 
 side of the entry. As it was quite an unusual 
 thing to push the entry forward in a direction 
 that did not admit of opening up any more 
 rooms, the mining-boss explained that there was 
 reason to believe the territory of the (Company 
 had been encroached upon by the Caledonia 
 Company, whose coal-property adjoined that of 
 the Camerton Company on the south side. The 
 intention was to advance far enough to find out 
 whether or not this was the case. The entry 
 went forward at a rapid rate, being driven by 
 three shifts ; that is, by three different sets of 
 men, who relieved each other every eight hours. 
 
 But as soon as the entry was turned in this 
 new direction, it began to be whispered among 
 the miners that this advance to the southeast 
 meant danger. The entry was now headed 
 toward an old mine of the Caledonia Company, 
 which was worked out and abandoned, and was 
 known to be full of water. 
 
 "There's water enough in there to drown 
 out the whole south entry. Tap it once, an' 
 there's not a man o' ye that'll get out alive." 
 
 This was said by vSandy Cameron, a Scotch- 
 
A Calamity in the South Entry. 123 
 
 man by birth, and one of the oldest miners in 
 the slope. As he worked in the west entry, he 
 was not exposed to the danger himself, but had 
 quit his work that day to colne and warn his 
 fellow-miners in the south entry of their danger, 
 which he declared was now increasing day 
 by day. 
 
 Mr. Harris, the mining-boss, admitted the 
 reasonableness of these fears expressed by the 
 miners ; and after consulting with Mr. Morgan, 
 the superintendent, it was decided to make a 
 new survey to satisfy the men. For this pur- 
 pose an expert was brought from a distance, 
 who went over the ground carefully, and con- 
 firmed the report previously made, that the 
 south entry was strictly on the line of the 
 Camerton Company's property, and that there 
 was no danger unless the men of their own ac- 
 cord changed the direction in which they were 
 then proceeding. This, of course, was not 
 likely to occur, even through carelessness, as 
 the daily visits of the mining-boss would pre- 
 vent the men from getting ''off the points." 
 
 "What's that got to do wi' it?" said the 
 venerable Sandy Cameron, when the report of 
 the new surveyor was made known to the men. 
 " We 're not questioning the honesty o' our own 
 company. It 's the other chaps that we sus- 
 picion. I tell ye, mon, that I wrought in yon 
 
124 Camerton Slope. 
 
 mine [the Caledonia] when some o' ye was only 
 wee bits o' laddies. It was one o' the first 
 mines open in all this region, and the men that 
 carried it on did n't know the meaning o' a 
 compass. Mind ye, I 'm not saying that they 
 meant to gouge coal that did n't belong to them ; 
 but the mine was driven by guess-work, and I 
 iell ye there 's no assurance that they bided by 
 the line." 
 
 The men felt that there was a good deal of 
 cold truth in these suggestions; and, after a full 
 conference of the miners in the south entry, it 
 was decided to ''bring out their tools" — which 
 is the miner's phrase for quitting work. 
 
 Mr. Morgan, the superintendent, was deter- 
 mined, however, that the entry should advance. 
 He would take every precaution to protect the 
 men, he said — just as when an entry is driven 
 toward a body of water for the special purpose 
 of drawing it off and draining the mine. 
 
 The principal safeguard under such circum- 
 stances is to drill a small hole some yards in 
 advance of where the men are at work. Be- 
 lieving that no harm could befall them as long 
 as the drill went in advance, the men continued 
 at their work, and the alarm on that subject 
 gradually subsided. In the light of what after- 
 wards happened, it seemed a strange thing that 
 the men should have been satisfied with drill- 
 
A Calamity in the South Entry. 125 
 
 ing only in one dh^ection. The danger-point 
 proved to be, not in advance, but in a line in- 
 tersecting the entry some distance back from 
 the face. 
 
 One day, about two weeks after the drilling 
 commenced, the rib, or wall, of the entry sud- 
 denly gave way under the great pressure of the 
 water, and the awful tide, carrying ruin and 
 death upon its bosom, poured into the south 
 entry. The two men who were at work in the 
 face of the entry were the first victims. They 
 were overwhelmed and drowned, in all proba- 
 bility before they had time to realize what had 
 happened. Then outward and still outward 
 sped the terrible flood toward the rest of the 
 men. The bursting of the entry wall resounded 
 far and wide, like the explosion of a cannon, 
 through the chambers where the miners were 
 at work. Added to this, the awful rushing 
 sound of the water in the distance, and the 
 current of air set in motion, quickly told the 
 men that the long-dreaded catastrophe was upon 
 them. 
 
 And now, along the entry and through the 
 cross-cuts, from room to room, began the mad 
 race for life in front of the angry tide! To 
 one fortunate circumstance was it due that any 
 of the men in the south entry escaped with 
 their lives — the channel through which the 
 
126 Camerton Slope. 
 
 water poured from the old mine into the Cam- 
 erton mine was not large enough to discharge 
 at once sufficient water to flood all the vast 
 space of rooms and cross-cuts that had been 
 opened up in the south entry. 
 
 The hapless beings who were nearest to the 
 point of the flood's entrance were the ones that 
 perished. As the tide found an ever-widening 
 space over which to spread itself, its fury abated. 
 It pursued the fleeing men less rapidly, and 
 gave them a better chance for their lives; so 
 that some who at first despaired, picked up 
 heart, and continued the race to a place of 
 safety. 
 
 Of the sixty-four men and boys known to 
 be in the south entry when the flood burst upon 
 them, forty-seven reached the lye at the foot of 
 the slope alive. That they were alive, however, 
 was all that could be said of some of them. 
 The gust of wind that swept through the entry 
 had extinguished many of the lights, and in 
 the desperate race for life in utter darkness, the 
 men were bruised and bleeding from their fre- 
 quent collisions with timbers, cars, and the solid 
 walls of the various passage-ways through which 
 they had made their escape. 
 
 Some of them had fallen, stunned and help- 
 less, and had been unwittingly trampled upon 
 by their fellows. Two young men, brothers, 
 
A Calamity in th^ South Entry. 127 
 
 had laid hold of their aged father when the first 
 alarm was given, and dragged him in the dark- 
 ness through half a dozen cross-cuts, and over 
 all sorts of obstacles, never relinquishing their 
 hold till they brought him, more dead than 
 alive, to the place of safety at the lye. It is 
 probable that others also, who fell victims to 
 the flood, could have made good their escape 
 by rapid running, if their lamps had not been 
 put out in the manner already described. 
 
 The alarm quickly spread through the other 
 parts of the mine, and presently the lye was 
 crowded with men, all anxious to see who of 
 their fellow-workmen had escaped. 
 
 When the roll of the men and boys in the 
 south entry was called by the mining-boss, there 
 were seventeen who did not answer to their 
 names. Among the missing were James Shry- 
 ock, and his butty, Thomas Tangey. Two of 
 the drivers, who were furthest on the inside that 
 trip, also failed to respond to their names — 
 Archie Atkins and Sam Smallwood. 
 
 Rescuing parties of the most able-bodied of 
 the survivors had hurried back to the water's 
 edge as soon as they had been able to get their 
 lamps lighted, and were just in time to save two 
 men, who had fallen crippled and exhausted, 
 only a few feet in advance of the now slowly- 
 advancing tide. 
 
128 Camerton Slope. 
 
 It was after all the searchers had returned to 
 the lye from the flooded part of the mine, that 
 the roll was called with the result already stated. 
 The confusion and excitement that had pre- 
 vailed up to this time, had prevented any correct 
 estimate of the number and names of those who 
 were lost, and the most contradictory reports 
 were in circulation among the several hundred 
 men who ran about in search of one another, 
 and shouting out a score of names at once. 
 It was not easy to get the crowd quieted down. 
 Right beside the anxious faces of those who 
 could not find the relatives they sought, broth- 
 ers were embracing brothers ; here a father sud- 
 denly discovering a son, who had been reported 
 as lost ; and there a man coming up with his 
 butty, after having been separated from him in 
 the race for life. But at last the boss was able 
 to command silence, and the calling of the roll 
 began. A groan, or stifled sob, was the only 
 response when several of the names were re- 
 peated in loud tones for the second or third 
 time. It indicated the utter giving way of the 
 hope to which some had clung up to that very 
 moment. 
 
 The injured men were now put into empty 
 cars, and hauled up the slope by the engine, 
 while the greater part of the others, a mournful 
 procession, walked behind them. 
 
A Calamity in the South Entry. 129 
 
 A few, unwilling to abandon all hope of their 
 comrades, volunteered to remain behind and 
 watch the progress of the water. They would be 
 at hand, they said, to show a light, and lend a 
 helping hand to any one who might yet, impos- 
 sible as it seemed, struggle out of the water. It 
 was plain, however, from the look on the men's 
 faces, that it was not hope which prompted 
 them, but rather the melancholy feeling which 
 inclines the living to linger about the newly 
 made graves where they have buried their dead. 
 
 One of the number that remained behind 
 was Archie Atkins's father. His grief was piti- 
 ful. He could not bring himself to believe that 
 Archie was really lost. When urged to go home 
 and break the news to his wife, he said : 
 
 "I can't do it. Tell her that I 'm alive ; but 
 I can't go home without my boy. I can't leave 
 my Archie in that awful place." 
 
 It was only a short distance from the foot of 
 the slope to the edge of the fatal flood, and here 
 the discovery was quickly make that the water 
 had ceased to rise. The invading tide had spent 
 its force. 
 
 Was it receding ? The momentary gleam 
 of hope which the question inspired, was quickly 
 quenched by the dread certainty that those who 
 had been caught in the embrace of that remorse- 
 less flood were none of them now alive. 
 
I30 Camerton Slope. 
 
 But the water was not receding. The watch- 
 ers advanced as far as they could in all direc- 
 tions, and eagerly scanned every point where a 
 human being, living or dead, might be visible ; 
 yet nothing met their gaze but the forbidding 
 water reaching out into the forbidding darkness. 
 Save as they themselves broke the silence, the 
 stillness of death reigned all about the watery 
 tomb. 
 
 They were relieved at length by others, for 
 the watch was made continuous. Rude rafts 
 were constructed, on which men floated to the 
 farthest possible points ; but the search revealed 
 nothing. The watery sepulcher refused to give 
 up its dead. 
 
THE QUICK AND THE DEAD. 
 
 INTELLIGENCE of a calamity like that which 
 had overtaken the miners of the south entry, 
 usually travels very fast ; nor does it lose anything 
 in its detair of horrors as it flies. What had 
 actually occurred was sufficiently appalling, but 
 the first reports which gained currency in the 
 village, and beyond, were wild exaggerations as 
 to the extent of the flooded district and the 
 number of the victims. One account had it 
 that not a man in the south entry had escaped. 
 Another rumor stated that the water had reached 
 the lye, and that the escape of many of the men 
 in the other entries was cut off. 
 
 All Camerton had gathered about the mouth 
 of the slope, and was waiting in excited and 
 anxious expectancy when the procession of 
 miners reached the open air. Though the ut- 
 most had been done by the outside hands to cor- 
 
 131 
 
132 Camerton Slope. 
 
 rect the false reports, as to the number of the 
 dead, by giving such information as had been 
 sent out by the survivors themselves, yet the 
 women and children thronging the mouth of the 
 slope, where a guard of men prevented their 
 entrance, could not be reassured until the men 
 actually began to appear. 
 
 As one after another in the column emerged 
 from the mine, shouts of joyful recognition rent 
 the air, and women and children darted from 
 the throng into the arms of husbands, brothers, 
 sons, and fathers, who seemed to them, after 
 the awful suspense of their waiting, to be given 
 back from the very grave. 
 
 But, alas foi: those whose agonized expect- 
 ancy had no such joyful ending ! When the last 
 man in the procession had reached the outside, 
 when it was certain that no others, except the 
 watchers, were to come out alive^ then came the 
 climax of disappointment and despair for those 
 whose eager, searching eyes had missed the 
 familiar faces for which they sought. 
 
 It was all the more bitter, because, for the 
 past few minutes, they had found themselves 
 possessed by a strange, new hope that the seem- 
 ingly endless procession of men, slowly emerg- 
 ing from the mine, would not cease till it had 
 brought to them, as to so many other women, 
 the prizes they so agonizingly waited for. 
 
The Quick and the Dead. 133 
 
 Very remarkable was the change, within so 
 short a time, from unreasoning despair to un- 
 reasoning hope. When the women first reached 
 the mine, scarcely any of them w^ould credit 
 the definite and circumstantial tidings conveyed 
 to some of them that their loved ones had es- 
 caped; but before half of the column had 
 reached the open air, so numerous were the 
 glad shouts of recognition that the revulsion of 
 joyful feeliug became general, and under the in- 
 fluence of this contagion of sudden hope, scarcely 
 any in all that multitude believed it possible 
 that their loved ones could fail to appear with 
 the rest. 
 
 Several of the injured men were tenderly 
 laid on stretchers, and carried to their homes 
 by their comrades, where their wounds w^ere 
 dressed by the mine doctor. Others, only par- 
 tially disabled, found plenty of stalwart shoul- 
 ders to lean upon for assistance in walking to 
 their homes. In little groups the people went 
 their several ways, the gladness of those whose 
 friends had escaped being tempered by the sor- 
 row of a dozen families who had left behind 
 them, in that watery tomb, some one^ some two^ 
 of their members. 
 
 Between the Atkins family and the Shryocks 
 a strong tie of friendship subsisted. Mrs. At- 
 kins and Mrs. Shryock had for years been as 
 
134 Camerton Slope. 
 
 sisters to each other. Those two heart-broken 
 women were conspicuous, even in that large 
 group of mourners. None of the victims was 
 better known, or stood higher in the public es- 
 teem, than the husband of the one and the son 
 of the other. Together — scarcely knowing what 
 they did — they at length suffered themselves to 
 be led away to their desolate homes, by neigh- 
 bors who pitied and respected their grief. It 
 was little that could be done, either for them 
 or for others of the bereaved; but there was no 
 lack of kindly words and sympathetic tears. 
 
 On learning that the water was at a stand- 
 still, Mr. Morgan, the superintendent, and Mr. 
 Harris, the mining-boss, re-entered the mine, 
 taking with them a compass and a plat of the 
 south entry. A sudden gleam of hope had 
 arisen in their minds that some of the men, in 
 the rooms farthest advanced above the entry, 
 might have been simply surrounded by the 
 water, and shut in without being drowned. A 
 few calculations were quickly made, based on 
 the present height of the water, and the notes 
 of the mining-boss as to the distance which 
 some of the rooms had reached from the start- 
 ing-point at the entry — the farther they had 
 gone up the grade to the westward, the greater 
 the probability that the water had not reached 
 the face of those rooms. 
 
The Quick and the Dead. 135 
 
 "There is no doubt about it!" said Mr. Harris, 
 eagerly, as he finislied his calculation. " Three 
 or four of the rooms are certainly above the 
 water-level!" 
 
 Mr. Morgan figured out a similar conclusion 
 with respect at least to one of the rooms — Num- 
 ber 57. He was not so confident as to the 
 others. The men who worked in 57 — Shryock 
 and Tangey — were able-bodied, expert miners, 
 who had wasted no time in the dissipations so 
 common among many of their fellow- workmen. 
 The result of their steady industry was, that 
 their room was farther advanced than some of 
 the others immediately about them. It seemed 
 certain that there was present safety at the face 
 of Number 57, and possibly also in several of 
 the other rooms. 
 
 But had any of the men been able to make 
 their way to any of these places of possible 
 refuge? 
 
 The question suggested by this investigation 
 was quickly communicated to the people out- 
 side, by some of the men who had assisted the 
 bosses in their observation, and the result was 
 that, in a little while, quite a crowd of the 
 workmen had gathered at the mine, to discuss 
 the possibilities which this discovery had 
 opened up. 
 
 To the statement of one of the men, that 
 
136 Camerton Slope. 
 
 "everybody in tlie entry must have heard the 
 alarm, and started to run at once," Sandy Cam- 
 eron replied : 
 
 *'I 'm not so sure aboot that. Suppose some 
 o' they men was sledging a breast o' coal? If 
 it happened to fall aboot the time the water 
 broke in, the noise o' the fall o' coal would 
 droon out the soond o' the water in the dis- 
 tance." 
 
 The sum of the general discussion seemed 
 to be that tliere was at least a reasonable possi- 
 bility that some of the men might not have 
 left the face of their rooms; or, if they had 
 done so, and yet had found their escape cut off 
 at an early stage of their flight, there was good 
 reason to suppose that they would retreat to 
 the highest ground they could find, and this 
 would be at the face of the rooms; and they 
 might possibly be there still, alive and safe — if 
 they could but be reached ! 
 
 "How can we get at them?" cried a score of 
 eager voices. 
 
 The plans suggested were numerous enough: 
 
 "Pump and bail out the water!" 
 
 " Sink a shaft !" 
 
 "Drive a narrow gangway from the edge of 
 the water so as to intersect the rooms that we 
 want to reach !" 
 
 But the countenances of very many of the 
 
' The Qutck and the Dead. 137 
 
 men fell when the best-posted miners in the 
 group declared that it would take several weeks 
 to reach the desired place by any of the pro- 
 posed methods, pushed with all possible energy. 
 This conclusion was challenged by the advo- 
 cates of the shaft plan of relief; and a spirited 
 discussion followed as to the perpendicular dis- 
 tance from the surface to the vein of coal, and 
 the nature of the ground to be gone through. 
 
 While the discussion was at its height, sev- 
 eral of the older men were summoned to the 
 company's office by Mr. Harris. Another plan 
 was under discussion there, and the managers 
 desired to consult with the men about it. 
 
 On the other side of the John's Mountain, a 
 drift had been started many years ago ; and then, 
 on account of a change in the company's plans, 
 it had been abandoned. No one in the office 
 could tell exactly how far it had been driven ; 
 but its location was such as to justify the be- 
 lief that, if it had gone any considerable dis- 
 tance, it certainly furnished the shortest route 
 and promised the quickest method of reaching 
 the imprisoned men. 
 
 At the bare mention of the old drift, one of 
 the men clapped his hands. 
 
 '* Bless my soul!" cried the old miner; '4t's 
 the very thing! Why didn't I think of it 
 afore? I worked in that drift thirty years 
 
138 Camerton Slope. 
 
 agone. Me and Sandy Cameron worked there 
 together." 
 
 Sandy Cameron was not in the gronp at the 
 mine ; bnt he was qnickly brought, and was 
 able to give more definite information than his 
 old-time butty, Peter Stuart, as to the direction 
 the drift had followed on the inside, and the 
 distance it had been driven. He was enthusi- 
 astic in indorsing the plan of trying to reach 
 the men through the old drift. 
 
 Mr. Morgan at once announced to the rest of 
 the men, who were anxiously awaiting the result 
 of the council, what their conclusion was. 
 
 " It is scarcely worth while," said he, '' to 
 talk about a shaft. The company has done 
 enough searching of the mountains in this 
 neighborhood to render it certain that it would 
 require at least a month of the very best work 
 that could be done to reach the point in the 
 south entry at which we are aiming with a shaft. 
 There are a good many yards of solid rock to 
 drill through in reaching our vein of coal. We 
 are as anxious to find the men by the shortest 
 route as any of you possibly can be; and our 
 best judgment is, that by opening up the old 
 Buxton drift on the other side of the mountain, 
 we shall reach them sooner than in any other 
 way." 
 
 A cheer broke from the men at this point, 
 
The Quick and the Dead. 139 
 
 which interrupted the further words of the 
 superintendent. So anxious were they to begin 
 the work of rescue, and yet so hopelessly di- 
 vided among themselves over the several pro- 
 posed plans, that it was a great relief to have a 
 new and better scheme authoritatively suggested 
 by the management — a scheme to which all the 
 men gave a hearty assent as soon as it was an- 
 nounced — and their impatience could scarcely 
 be restrained long enough to receive the neces- 
 sary orders. 
 
 Mr. Harris called the names of a number of 
 men, who were to begin immediately, or as 
 soon as they could get there, the work of clear- 
 ing up the old drift. Another gang was to pre- 
 pare a bed for a new track, as the old one was 
 rotten and useless. Then, there were tools, 
 timbers, cars, etc. to be conveyed across the 
 mountain. 
 
 In a few minutes, the various gangs of men 
 had received explicit instructions as to what 
 they were to do ; and then the men separated 
 in all directions with a rush, the several gangs 
 springing with great enthusiasm to the particu- 
 lar work assigned them. 
 
 Under such circumstances, there is a relief 
 to the burdened heart in doing which nothing 
 else can give. To be compelled to wait in 
 idleness upon the scene of such a calamity, or 
 
HO Camerton Slope. 
 
 to feel that something ought to be done, and 
 done at once^ and yet to be uncertain what to do, 
 is keenest torture to energetic natures. Happily, 
 the plan selected was one which immediately 
 enlisted the active co-operation of most of the 
 able-bodied men in Camerton. Mr. Harris 
 seemed to think of everything at once, and was 
 able to gratify every man by giving him some- 
 thing to do. 
 
 The first gang that reached the old drift began 
 work at once — with such tools as they had been 
 able to pick up in their rapid run across the 
 mountain — shoveling out the dirt that ob- 
 structed the mouth of the drift. They were 
 followed, as soon as possible, by a wagon loaded 
 with a complete outfit of tools, including wheel- 
 barrows ; and still another wagon contained 
 timbers to secure the roof of the old drift, 
 which, from long neglect, had fallen here and 
 there, and was unsafe and ready to fall in many 
 other places. A few minutes after the clearing- 
 up began, a gang of miners, regularly equipped 
 for work, crawled over the various obstacles of 
 dirt at the entrance, and "falls" on the inside 
 (as the piles of fallen roof are called), and 
 pushed their way to the face of the drift, where 
 they promptly commenced the excavation of 
 the channel toward the south entry. The work 
 of possible rescue had actually begun! 
 
The Quick and the Dead. 141 
 
 The fear that it might end only in disap- 
 pointment sometimes found expression in the 
 utterances of the men, but it did not diminish 
 their energy. Strong and rapid were the blows 
 upon the solid coal which began to resound 
 through the old drift, where silence had reigned 
 during so many years. 
 
MINGLED HOPE AND FEAR. 
 
 IT was long remembered in Camerton, to the 
 credit both of the management and the men, 
 that a carefully calculated plan of rescue was 
 put into operation so soon after a paralyzing 
 accident, which at the first had quenched all 
 hope as to any of the missing ones. It was 
 about the middle of the day when the water 
 broke into the Camerton mine, and in a few 
 minutes rose to such a height that no one 
 dreamed of a i^ossible chance of escape for any 
 of the unfortunates who had failed to make their 
 way to the lye with the rest of the survivors. 
 
 Never had a deeper vshadow rested on the 
 Camerton Valley than during that afternoon. 
 Slowly and sadly the people moved about, in 
 a stupor of dismay and grief at the calamity 
 which had overtaken them. Yet before the 
 sun went down that evening a kind of electric 
 
 142 
 
Mingled Hope and Fear. 143 
 
 hope, kindled by a single suggestion, had darted 
 into many a bosom, and roused the community 
 from its despair. And not only this, but two 
 hundred men had been set to work upon a plan 
 of rescue — a plan which was decided upon after 
 consideration had been given to all the others 
 that had been suggested. 
 
 There was very little sleep in Camerton that 
 night — for one reason, because there was so much 
 to be done ; and for another reason, because of 
 the excited condition of the people. 
 
 The more the matter was discusssed, the 
 more reasonable seemed the conclusion that 
 some of the men had found refuge in the rooms 
 already referred to as above the water-line at 
 their face. No one dared to hope that all the 
 men were there. 
 
 But who of them were most likely to be 
 there ? 
 
 This was a question of interest to all the 
 people; but how it especially agitated the fam- 
 ilies of the missing ones, and chased sleep from 
 their eyes, may be better imagined than de- 
 scribed. 
 
 The strongest and most expert of the miners 
 — *' the bully miners," as they are sometimes 
 half-derisively called by the others — were de- 
 tailed for the work of driving the drift forward. 
 As this was the hardest part of the undertak- 
 
144 Came ETON Slope, 
 
 ing, and everything depended on progress there^ 
 the work was divided into shifts of one hour 
 each. When the hour was ended, and time was 
 called, the men quit work on the instant, and 
 came out dripping with perspiration from head 
 to foot as the result of the tremendous hour^s 
 exertion. The next gang of fresh men stood 
 ready with sharpened tools, to begin work immedi- 
 ately, so that not a moment's time was lost. The 
 rate of progress amazed even the miners them- 
 selves. None of them had ever seen anything 
 to compare with it. 
 
 " She fairly jumps ahead !'* said Sandy Cam- 
 eron, who had been appointed to oversee the 
 work in the absence of IMr. Harris. 
 
 The distance of more than three miles by 
 wagon-road from Camerton to the Buxton drift 
 was one glare of torches and lamplight all that 
 night, as the two streams of men and wagons 
 passed and repassed each other on various er- 
 rands. By morning the most of the preparatory- 
 work was finished, the falls cleaned up in the 
 drift, the roof secured with props and cross-bars; 
 a regular dump had been constructed on the hill- 
 side a little distance outward from the mouth of 
 the drift, and a new track had been laid from the 
 dump inward to the face. A sufficient number 
 of mine-cars had also been brought over from 
 the Camerton Slope, to take the place of the 
 
Mingled Hope and Fear. 145 
 
 wheelbarrows which had been used at first, be- 
 fore the track was laid. And now, as soon as a 
 car was filled with coal in the drift, it was pushed 
 outside by a gang of men, and the coal dumped 
 out of it down the hillside, Another gang at 
 once took an empty car from the side-switch, and 
 pushed it inside the drift, so that the loaders as 
 well as the diggers might not be delayed. 
 
 The night was also one of hard work for the 
 managers. In addition to devising and over- 
 seeing all the arrangements which have been 
 mentioned, another important question which 
 had to be settled was the precise direction which 
 the drift must take to reach the desired point. 
 A passage-way under ground can not be driven 
 with any accuracy by mere guess-work. Here the 
 compass is to the miner, just as it is to the mariner 
 on the ocean, the only reliable guide. The first 
 shift of miners had received from Mr. Harris 
 the best "guess-work points" that he could give 
 them, to begin on ; but as soon as he had selected 
 the several gangs of men for the various parts of 
 the work, together with the superintendent, he 
 began to run the lines across the mountain, to 
 find out the exact course the drift must take. 
 
 This was no easy job in the darkness of 
 the night, as the ground was for the most part 
 rocky and rugged, making the observations 
 very difficult. The Camerton officials, however, 
 
146 Camerton Slope. 
 
 received very valuable assistance in their survey 
 from the managers of the neighboring mines, 
 and were glad to have their own judgment con- 
 firmed as to the course to be taken, by the cal- 
 culations of others. 
 
 It was decided to head the drift for Room 
 57, in the south entry. There were several cir- 
 cumstances which rendered this room the most 
 probable gathering place for any men who were 
 still alive in the south entry. One was its ad- 
 vanced position beyond the several rooms im- 
 mediately adjoining it. Another reason was, 
 that it was intersected by cross-cuts on either 
 side, connecting it with the neighboring and less- 
 advanced rooms, thus giving the men in those 
 rooms a chance to escape into 57. 
 
 The men who had worked somewhat at ran- 
 dom all night, were greatly gratified when they 
 received the points for 57 about daybreak next 
 morning. The guess-work course had to be 
 changed somewhat, but a direction surprisingly 
 near the true one had been taken in starting 
 out. It added greatly to the satisfaction of the 
 men, however, to know for certain that they were 
 now on the right course. 
 
 It may be well to explain here that what are 
 called "the points" — by which miners drive 
 their entries, rooms, etc. — are simply pieces of 
 string, suspended perpendicularly from nails 
 
Mingled Hope and Fear. 147 
 
 driven in the roof, and weighted at the lower 
 end with bits of iron or coal to keep them 
 steady. These strings are hung in the exact 
 course which the passage-way is to take, and 
 serve to direct the course somewhat in the same 
 way as the ''sights" on a gun-barrel. One man 
 holds his lamp at the face of the room, while 
 his butty stands at the strings to do the "sight- 
 ing." The light is moved from side to side, as 
 may be necessary, until the two strings and the 
 light come into line. By this simple method a 
 passage-way may be driven in a straight line as 
 far as the eye can see a light in the distance. 
 The points must of course be moved, from time 
 to time, nearer to the face as the chamber ad- 
 vances, and thi's can only be done reliably by 
 the aid of the compass. 
 
 After twenty-four hours of work, when the 
 rate of possible progress was pretty well ascer- 
 tained from what the men had already done, 
 there began to be much anxious figuring upon 
 the length of time it would take to reach 57. 
 The distance that the drift must advance had 
 been fixed by the survey, so that it became the 
 simplest kind of a problem to ascertain how 
 long it w^ould take at the present rate of 
 progress. 
 
 All the calculations agreed in making the 
 time not less than seven days! One estimate 
 
148 Camerton Slope. 
 
 made it almost or quite eight days! The men 
 held diflferent opinions as to whether the pres- 
 ent rate of progress could be maintained, and 
 hence their estimates varied as to the time re- 
 quired for the work. In the short-time esti- 
 mates no allowance had been made for accidents 
 which might cause detention. 
 
 Then, too, the nature of the ground to be 
 gone through could not be foretold with any 
 certainty. Sometimes, for yards together, the 
 coal is, as the miners say, "as soft as ashes;" 
 then it changes, and becomes "as hard as flint." 
 In the one case the progress would be rapid; in 
 the other, much slower. 
 
 The calculation which made the time a lit- 
 tle over seven days, of tw^enty-four hours each, 
 was based on the possible rate of progress in 
 "average ground" — such as was encountered at 
 the start, or during the first day's work. 
 
 As soon as it was generally known to the 
 people that a full week, at least, must elapse 
 from the time of beginning the work before 
 the fate of any of the missing men could cer- 
 tainly be known, the inquiries began to be very 
 numerous as to whether the rescue might not 
 ])e too late after all ! 
 
 "How long could people live without food?" 
 
 All the accessible books and newspaper ac- 
 •counts, which told of men who had survived 
 
Mingled Hope and Fear. 149 
 
 long fasts, were eagerly read; and the old miners 
 had very attentive listeners as they furbished 
 up the tales they had heard in their youth of 
 similar disasters, which had overtaken the 
 miners of this and other countries. Incidents, 
 full of thrilling interest, were given of men 
 who had been imprisoned underground for 
 longer or shorter periods — sometimes by water; 
 sometimes by the settling of the roof over large 
 areas, etc. With kindly consideration, and no 
 little art, the more tragic features of these vari- 
 ous calamities were left out, and only those in- 
 cidents brought into the foreground which might 
 serve to keep hope alive in the bosoms of the 
 afflicted families. 
 
 Not all the stories, however, were of this 
 cheerful sort. Men who worked as hard as any 
 of their comrades, when their shift came, some- 
 times admitted that they had no hope. They 
 would shake their heads very ominously, and 
 then — looking carefully around to see who might 
 be listening — go on to tell of direful calamities, 
 in which the plan of rescue succeeded only in 
 recovering dead bodies. 
 
 Another question was: Suppose several of 
 them are together, confined in a few yards of 
 space at the head of one of the rooms, will they 
 not perish in a day or two for the want of 
 fresh air? 
 
I50 Camerton Slope. 
 
 Could fresh air from the outside penetrate so 
 large a body of water? 
 
 These and other questions were earnestly 
 discussed by the people, and the various and 
 contradictory opinions held on these subjects 
 would, under other circumstances, be found very 
 entertaining, if not also amusing. They served 
 to show, at least, how little of real information 
 exists, in many quarters, upon subjects with 
 which everybody is supposed to be acquainted, 
 and with which everybody ought to be ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 It is only fair to remark, however, that com- 
 munities claiming a higher order of intelligence 
 than the people of the Camerton valley would 
 find themselves somewhat puzzled, and far from 
 unanimous, in the attempt to answer the ques- 
 tions which had become problems of great mo- 
 ment to the miners and their friends. 
 
INCIDENTS OF THE WORKING AND WAITING. 
 
 IT was on Friday that the water broke into 
 the Camerton mine — "Black Friday" the 
 day was afterwards called. As the work of 
 opening up the old drift began the same even- 
 ing, and was continued for twenty-four hours 
 before any precise calculations were attempted, 
 the questions referred to in the last chapter 
 formed the staple of conversation for the people 
 on Saturday night. There must be at least six 
 more days of anxious waiting before anything 
 could be certainly known ; and then — 
 
 But the people were thoroughly tired out 
 after these two days of terrible tension and the 
 utter sleeplessness of the night before ; and, 
 generally speaking, they retired to rest at an 
 early hour. Almost the only exceptions were 
 the men whose turn at the drift came in the 
 forepart of the night. 
 
 II 151 
 
152 Camerton Slope. 
 
 The next day was Sunday. The morning 
 dawned bright and clear ; and the greater part 
 of the people, refreshed by the night's rest, 
 were in more hopeful mood than some of them 
 had been the evening before. 
 
 Even Mrs. Atkins had been able to sink into 
 a quiet slumber toward morning, after several 
 hours spent in earnest, agonizing prayer. It 
 was broad daylight when she awoke ; and she 
 seemed to be no longer the sorrow-stricken 
 woman of the two preceding days. 
 
 '* O George," she remarked to her husband, 
 " I have had such a good sleep, and it has re- 
 freshed me so! But I think it was a dream I 
 have had, or something like a vision, that has 
 done me even more good than the sleep. It 
 seemed to me that ' a shiuiug one,' as Bunyan 
 would say, stood by me and said, 'Cast thy bur- 
 den on the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.' I 
 did just what he told me, because I was afraid 
 to disobey; and the promise was fulfilled. I 
 had a feeling of relief that was wonderful. It 
 seems so strange that what I could n't do yes- 
 terday, try as I would, I have been able to do 
 in my sleep since midnight." 
 
 George Atkins said but little in reply to his 
 wife. He had passed another sleepless and 
 anxious night. Being a practical miner, and 
 one of the most intelligent of the craft, he was 
 
Working and Waiting. 153 
 
 as well able to estimate the probabilities in the 
 case as any of the others. All night long he had 
 kept vigil, sitting in his arm-chair — the old 
 wooden rocker in which he always rested after 
 his day's work was done. Over and over again 
 he had made the simple calculation which so 
 many others had been making ; but he found it 
 impossible to figure out a result that brought 
 any comfort to himself. 
 
 It might be that the drift would reach No. 57 
 within the expected time, and that several of the 
 men might in that way be rescued ; but his own 
 knowledge of the situation led him to believe 
 there was little ground to hope that either of 
 the drivers was in a position when the flood 
 came to avail himself of the refuge which the 
 higher rooms afforded. 
 
 Then, too, he was conscious that his bearing 
 toward his boy had been somewhat unfortu- 
 nate — he had been unfatherly and unsympa- 
 thetic without meaning to be so. This ground 
 for self-condemnation was the bitterest ingre- 
 dient in his cup of sorrow. He felt at times 
 that he could scarcely contain himself; he must 
 see his boy at once, living or dead. It would 
 be a priceless boon even to fold the dead body 
 in his arms, and speak into the ears that could 
 not hear, words of fatherly affection such as had 
 never passed his lips before. 
 
154 Came ETON Slope, 
 
 Then he would chide himself for sitting 
 still and doing nothing to help on the work of 
 rescue. How could a true father be content, 
 he asked himself, for others to do all the work 
 in the drift? True, he had not been content. 
 He had begged piteously to be allowed to take 
 his turn with the other miners ; but the men had 
 been a unit in denying his request. They had 
 told him that his place was at home, and that he 
 must leave the work of rescue to them^ while he 
 did what he could to comfort and encourage his 
 wife — the mother of his boy. 
 
 He knew that the miners who were pushing 
 the drift ahead were picked men ; that they 
 were straining every nerve, doing all that mor- 
 tals could do to openjiip a way of escape for any 
 possible survivors on the inside; yet there were 
 times that night when he felt that he could do 
 the work of twenty men, and that he must rush 
 to the spot, take hold of the work, and do it all 
 himself. 
 
 His wife's more peaceful mood served to sub- 
 due in some measure the fierce, consuming 
 fever that possessed him; but even she seemed 
 to break down again before they had finished 
 their simple breakfast. 
 
 Just outside the window of the room that 
 served them as dining-room and kitchen, a 
 grassy hillock rose abruptly to the height of five 
 
Working and Waiting. 155 
 
 or six feet. Upon this slope, so near to the 
 window that one might almost touch them, a 
 small flock of robins gathered every morning as 
 if expecting to be fed. Mrs. Atkins was ac- 
 customed to shake the tablecloth out of the 
 window after breakfast, to feed them w^ith the 
 crumbs. The birds were unusually tame, and 
 seemed to watch for the tablecloth as if they 
 understood that it contained food for them. 
 
 Archie had become greatly attached to these 
 robins, though he had very little opportunity to 
 see them except on Sundays, as on other days 
 he was compelled to hurry to the mine at an 
 early hour ; but on Sundays he always fed the 
 birds himself, and would watch for them as if 
 they were his own peculiar treasures. 
 
 It was the coming of the robins on this par- 
 ticular Sunday morning that, for the moment, 
 broke in upon Mrs. Atkins's newly-found com- 
 fort, by the contrast which was suggested with 
 the Sunday before. When the birds perched as 
 usual upon the bank, and began their morning 
 song, while seeming to wait for the tablecloth 
 to make its appearance at the window, Mrs. 
 Atkins could not restrain her tears. 
 
 *' You dear little creatures," she said, '^Archie 
 isn't here to feed you this morning. He's shut 
 up in the dark mine, and he must be awfully 
 hungry himself by this time.'* 
 
156 Came ETON Slope. " 
 
 It was the thought that her boy, if alive, was 
 suffering the pangs of hunger, in addition to his 
 other distresses, that unnerved her. She well 
 knew that those pangs must increase from day 
 to day to utter torture, before relief could 
 reach him. 
 
 It was but a moment, and then her former 
 quiet state of mind returned with the memory 
 of " the shining one " she had seen in her dream. 
 
 The neighbors wondered that day at the 
 change in her manner. They noted the fact 
 that she spoke of Archie as if he were certainly 
 alive. Nor did she waver in her belief that he 
 would soon be restored to her. She talked freely 
 of her plans for nursing him out of the enfeeble- 
 ment which starvation and long exposure to 
 dampness must result in. 
 
 The usual order of service was not followed 
 in the Camerton churches that day, but the 
 three congregations — Methodist, Presbyterian, 
 and Baptist — worshiped together. The people 
 of the community had been drawn closer to- 
 gether by what had befallen them in the last 
 few days, and the proposition to spend the Sab- 
 bath in united prayer found general and hearty 
 acceptance. So the people met at the usual hour 
 of worship in the Methodist Church, the largest 
 building of the three. 
 
 There was no regular preaching that day, 
 
Working and Waiting. 157 
 
 but the church was crowded with thoughtful, 
 reverent, sorrow-stricken worshipers, whose bur- 
 dened hearts were yearning to draw near to 
 God. Very earnest were the petitions of the 
 miners for their imprisoned and imperiled fel- 
 low-workmen in the mine, and for the success 
 of the undertaking which sought to relieve 
 them. The families, too, of the missing ones 
 were tenderly mentioned at the Throne of Grace. 
 So peculiar was the situation that no one cer- 
 tainly knew who had been bereaved, and who 
 had not ; but the burden of all the prayers was, 
 that the faith of those for whom a bitter disap- 
 pointment was in store might not utterly fail. 
 There was a rude but real eloquence, and a 
 heart-touching pathos, in many of these verbal 
 supplications; and at times the voice of the 
 speaker was lost in the earnest " amens" and 
 stifled sobs which manifested the deep feeling of 
 the people. The effect of the service was height- 
 ened when, toward its close, several of the miners, 
 returning from their work in the drift, all black 
 as they were, and in their mining clothes, 
 entered the church by the rear door near the 
 pulpit, and stood among the throng of worship- 
 ers, in full view of the congregation. They 
 entered heartily into the service, and one of 
 them, who was called on to pray, responded 
 with a liberty of fervent utterance and an all- 
 
158 Camerton Slope. 
 
 pervading unction that fastened the gaze of the 
 people upon him, as if a prophet of the Most 
 High had suddenly appeared in their midst. 
 
 Again that afternoon, and also at night, the 
 church was thronged with people, and services 
 of a similar character were held, the several pas- 
 tors being present at all the services, and leading 
 them in turn. 
 
 Meanwhile the work went forward at the 
 drift with clock-work regularity, and no abate- 
 ment of energy and progress, either night or 
 day. On Monday it began to be evident that 
 some arrangement must be made to supply fresh 
 air at the face of the drift. The air was ''getting 
 bad," the men said. It is usually found needful 
 that passages underground shall be driven in 
 pairs, the one parallel to the other, and con- 
 nected with it at intervals by cross-passages, 
 known as cross-cuts. It is then possible to have 
 a free circulation of air, the current entering the 
 one passage, and coming out through the other. 
 In a single chamber, driven for any considerable 
 distance, no free circulation of air can take 
 place, and the atmosphere becomes foul and op- 
 pressive. 
 
 It is perhaps a fortunate circumstance for the 
 men who must breathe such an atmosphere, that 
 nature utters her protest in a way that is not to 
 be disregarded — the lamps refuse to burn when 
 
Working and Waiting. 159 
 
 the air is "bad," or they burn so feebly, and go 
 out so frequently as to occasion no end of trouble 
 and delay. On this account the lowest and most 
 sordid motives combine with the highest to com- 
 pel attention to the important problem of venti- 
 lation. The method employed for ventilating 
 the drift was a very simple, and yet a very 
 effective one. 
 
 Mr. Harris at once set the carpenters at work 
 to make an air-box, a tube constructed of planks, 
 and running from the outside in, nearly to the 
 face where the men were at work. The fresh 
 air was forced in from the outside by means of a 
 revolving fan. This fan was at first kept in 
 motion by the men, until a horse-power could 
 be rigged to do the work. As the drift advanced 
 the box was lengthened on the inside, and by 
 this means an abundant supply of fresh air was 
 furnished to the hard-working men at the face of 
 the drift. 
 
 Another subject to which the management 
 had given careful thought was, how to draw off 
 the main body of water, so as to recover the 
 bodies of the drowned as soon as possible, and 
 at the same time open up the work again in the 
 south entry. This matter was second in impor- 
 tance only to the work of rescuing any who might 
 be still alive; and on Saturday night a force of 
 men and a number of water-cars were started 
 
i6o Camerton Slope. 
 
 in the south entry, to see what impression could 
 be made upon the water by continuous bailing. 
 The water-cars after being filled, were hauled 
 out a short distance to the top of the grade, 
 where the plugs were knocked out, and the water 
 ran down in the ditch beside the track to the 
 sump, or reservoir, at the lye, where the power- 
 ful pump, connected with the same rope which 
 hauled the cars out of the mine, forced the water 
 out also. These men were divided into shifts of 
 a few hours each, and the work was pushed with 
 as much expedition as possible, night and day. 
 
 In the meantime a set of large iron pipes 
 had been ordered which were to be laid through 
 the drift into the water, as soon as communica- 
 tion should be opened, and from the mouth of 
 the drift down the mountain side, sufficiently far 
 to operate as a syphon. 
 
 It was a fortunate circumstance that the 
 formation of the country admitted of this syphon 
 arrangement ; making it probable that the 
 greater part of the water, could be gotten rid of 
 without the delay of building an engine and a 
 set of pumps for that purpose. The pipes for 
 the syphon began to arrive on Tuesday, and the 
 work of placing them in position and connect- 
 ing them into a continuous pipe-line was quickly 
 accomplished. 
 
DISCOVERY-JOY AND SORROW. 
 
 THE work in the drift proceeded witbout 
 any special incident until Thursday. The 
 rate of progress upon which the original esti- 
 mate of the management was based, was fully 
 maintained, and in some of the shifts exceeded. 
 It was little less than a miracle that no serious 
 accident occurred ; for such was the ambition of 
 the men to force the drift ahead that, to save 
 time, risks were taken which in ordinary mining 
 would be pronounced reckless, and even fool- 
 hardy. Each shift was stimulated to the ut- 
 most, not only by the main object, but by the 
 determination not to be outdone by the shift 
 that went before, or the one that came after. 
 That none of the men sustained any injury in 
 this almost mad race was due, in great measure, 
 to the constant watchfulness of the managers 
 and sub-managers, who, by relieving each other 
 
 i6i 
 
1 62 Camerton Slope. 
 
 every few hours, were able to keep a constant 
 oversight of the work, night and day. 
 
 On Thursday morning the superintendent 
 and the mining-boss entered the drift, and told 
 the men to stop work for a few minutes. By 
 their calculation, the drift should reach the 
 point aimed at in a little more than another 
 day; and if any men were still alive in Number 
 57, it must now be possible to hear from them 
 by the familiar miner's signal of knocking with 
 a tool on the solid coal. 
 
 When everything had become quiet in the 
 drift, Mr. Harris took a pick, and struck the 
 head of it sharply against the face, giving five 
 distinct raps — the first two being slowly given, 
 and the remaining three in quicker succession, 
 after the manner of beating marching-time on 
 a bass-drum. Then, after a moment's pause, 
 the five raps were repeated; and again, for the 
 third time. 
 
 The men now grew breathless, and their 
 hearts almost stood still as they waited for a 
 reply. But no reply was audible. The men 
 looked at one another, and disappointment was 
 visible in their faces. 
 
 ''Do you hear anything?" asked Mr. Harris, 
 in a whisper. 
 
 "No," answered several of the men, in the 
 same low tone. 
 
Discovery— Joy and Sorrow. 163 
 
 Again the knocking was resumed. This time 
 it was more prolonged, and again a silence fol- 
 lowed that was painful in its intensity, no man 
 moving a muscle. 
 
 But none of the listeners could detect the 
 slightest sound in reply. 
 
 **This time," said Mr. Harris, ''as soon as I 
 quit rapping, all of you come forward, and put 
 your ears against the face." 
 
 Again he struck the pick smartly against 
 the solid wall, repeating the five raps several 
 times over. 
 
 "Now," said he, as he dropped the tool, and 
 placed his ear upon the spot where he had 
 been striking. The men crowded about him, 
 and followed his example. 
 
 Instantly one of them exclaimed: 
 
 "They're knocking!" 
 
 "Hush!" 
 
 The men listened in silence; but even a 
 stranger, looking upon their faces, could have 
 detected that they were hearing sounds which 
 made their hearts glad. 
 
 "On with your work, men!" said Mr. Harris, 
 finally. "They are there! Thank God, some 
 of them are there!" 
 
 The men resumed their work in good ear- 
 nest, very greatly encouraged by this assurance 
 that their undertaking would be successful. 
 
1 64 Camerton Slope. 
 
 "Mr. Harris," said the superintendent, as the 
 two passed out of the drift together, "how far 
 off are those men?" 
 
 "I do n't know," was the laconic reply. 
 
 "I take it," continued the superintendent, 
 "that you are of the same opinion as I am." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "That we ought to have heard them more 
 plainly, if the distance is no greater than we 
 have been calculating." 
 
 Mr. Harris was troubled. His joy at the dis- 
 covery that some of the men were still alive, 
 was quickly clouded by the same torturing per- 
 plexity which had entered the mind of the 
 superintendent — the men certainly seemed to be 
 farther off than they should be, at the present 
 stage of the effort to reach them. 
 
 "Yes," was the reply of the mining-boss, 
 after a brief pause; "there's an awful blunder 
 sojnezijhere^ and I can't see for the life of me 
 where it can be. If we are on the right track, 
 it ought to be easy now to hear a rap at the face 
 of 57." 
 
 "We certainly made no mistake in our sur- 
 vey," remarked the superintendent, with some 
 confidence. 
 
 " I hardly think the trouble can be there," 
 replied the mining-boss, speaking very deliber- 
 ately; "but," he added, a moment later, "if it 
 
Discovery— Joy AND Sorrow. ^ 165 
 
 is n't there, the plat of the whole south entry 
 must be wrong from 'A to Izzard.' " 
 
 Just as this remark was uttered, at the mouth 
 of the drift, Sandy Cameron joined the two 
 bosses. He had just come from home, to be- 
 gin his three-hour shift as inside manager. On 
 the way he had heard the good news of the re- 
 sponse to the rapping, and was therefore taken 
 aback at the perplexed manner of his two su- 
 periors. When the matter was stated to him, 
 he qnickly responded : 
 
 *'And what sort o' an answer are ye asking 
 for from men a'niost dead wi' famine and bad 
 air? Do ye expect that they would be able to 
 hammer like giants refreshed wi' new wine?" 
 
 " You 're right, Sandy," replied Mr. Harris, 
 with something of relief in his tone. '' I did n't 
 stop to consider their weakened coudition. 
 That may account altogether for the faintness 
 of the sounds; and possibly we are all right yet." 
 
 Sandy's suggestion afforded a reasonable so- 
 lution of the difficulty; and it had a good effect 
 in keeping up the spirits of the men, some of 
 whom had noticed the dilemma of the. bosses, 
 and had begun to lose heart. 
 
 The news that the men had been heard 
 from reached Camerton very quickly, and kin- 
 dled a general feeling of rejoicing from one end 
 of the village to the other. Some of the people 
 
1 66 . Camerion Slope. 
 
 at once began to make preparations to leave 
 home and take up their abode near the drift, so 
 as to be on hand when the men were brought 
 out ; but they were stopped by a peremptory 
 order from the superintendent. As the presence 
 of the people in or about the drift could only 
 prove an embarrassment to the workmen and a 
 hindrance to the work, no one but the regular 
 hands would be allowed upon the premises until 
 the finish was close at hand ; and the families 
 immediately concerned would be notified in 
 time. 
 
 On Friday Mr. Morgan and Mr. Harris again 
 entered the drift, to see if they could get a new 
 response to their knocking. It was not, how- 
 ever, until the second effort that they succeeded. 
 But this time, to their great gratification, the 
 sounds were much more distinct. 
 
 If the rappings had been made by men under 
 ordinary circumstances, they would still have 
 seemed to be a considerable distance off; but al- 
 lowing, as already suggested, for the enfeebled 
 condition of the party on the other side, it 
 seemed, probable that they could be reached in- 
 side of another day. This at least was the 
 conclusion of the management; and the people 
 were notified that they might assemble at the 
 drift that night, but that they should be pre- 
 pared to spend the night there if necessary. 
 
Discovery— Joy and Sorrow. 167 
 
 They were not to leave their homes before eight 
 o'clock. 
 
 There was no need of any second invitation. 
 Scarcely a "corporal's guard" besides the sick 
 and aged remained in Camerton that night. The 
 mine-doctor and several neighboring physicians 
 were also on hand. Stretchers, blankets, and 
 various nourishing foods were provided in great 
 abundance. Fires were kindled, and kettles of 
 hot water kept in readiness for any necessary 
 use, and, close beside them, pots of fragrant 
 coffee, kept sufficiently warm upon the outer 
 edge of the coals. 
 
 The families of the missing men were very 
 fully represented. Scarcely a member of any of 
 their households would consent to remain at 
 home. Though divided into several small 
 parties, they really constituted a group by 
 themselves. The fearful strain of anxiety 
 was plainly visible in their countenances, and 
 even strangers from a distance mingling ampng 
 the Camerton people had no difficulty in pick- 
 ing them out of the throng. Some of them 
 moaned aloud under the burden of their afflic- 
 tion. It seemed as if the suspense must kill 
 them if it continued much longer. 
 
 The w^ork at the face was "going forward 
 with the same persistent energy as before. 
 Shift followed shift during the early part of the 
 
 12 
 
1 68 Camerton Slope. 
 
 night, just as for a week past ; but each suc- 
 cessive set of men retired with a feeling of dis- 
 appointment, because, after the turn of the 
 day, each shift had indulged the hope that it 
 might be their privilege to finish the work 
 and be the first to set eyes on the lost men. 
 
 A few minutes before eleven o'clock that 
 night, what proved to be the last shift went on, 
 with a ''clean breast" before them. While en- 
 gaged in undermining (cutting a narrow channel 
 horizontally under the main body of the coal), 
 one of the men suddenly cried out : 
 
 ''Hush!" 
 
 Every tool was dropped in a moment. Mike 
 McClenahan had struck his pick through into 
 vacancy ! A few more lightning-like strokes, and 
 he had opened up a hole several inches in 
 diameter. 
 
 " Hulloa there !" cried Mike. 
 
 "Hulloa!" was the feeble response. 
 
 "Who's in there?" 
 
 " There 's six of us." 
 
 "Who are you that's talkin'? I can't make 
 ye out." 
 
 " James Shryock." 
 
 " Good ! Who else is with ye?" 
 
 " My butty, Thomas Tangey, Archie Atkins, 
 Sam Smallwood, and the two Poles." 
 
 These latter were foreigners, with long, un- 
 
"HUSH!" 
 
Discovery— Joy and Sorrow. 169 
 
 pronounceable names, and were always desig- 
 nated as "the two Poles." 
 
 ''What 's become o' the rest o' the men?" 
 
 ''We don't know." 
 
 " Keep up a good heart, boys," cried Mike. 
 "We'll soon have ye's out o' there." 
 
 While the miners rapidly opened up a passage 
 big enough to crawl through, the rest of the men 
 flew outside with the news. 
 
 The doctors at once entered the drift with 
 the bosses, accompanied by a party of men car- 
 rying stretchers. All others were kept back by 
 a strong guard at the entrance. 
 
 It was a pitiful sight which met the gaze of 
 the men, as they followed one another into the 
 face of 57. Shryock was the only one of the 
 party who seemed to be clearly conscious. He 
 was sitting on the floor of the room, and close 
 beside him lying at full length, were Archie At- 
 kins and Sam Smallwood, with their heads rest- 
 ing in Shryock's lap. Both of the boys were 
 insensible, as were also the two Poles, who lay 
 close together, a little distance from the others. 
 Tangey had roused somewhat, but seemed only 
 dimly to comprehend what was going on. 
 
 Only a few yards from the face the dark 
 water-line was visible ; but beyond the six already 
 mentioned, there was no trace of a human being, 
 either living or dead. 
 
eijapter XVm, 
 
 CARE FOR THE LIVING-BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 
 
 7\ LITTLE stimulating cordial was at once 
 -^-^- administered to Shryock and Tangey, and 
 then, supported by the men, they managed to 
 walk outside. The others were laid upon the 
 stretchers, and carried^into the open air for treat- 
 ment. It was some time before either of the 
 boys showed any signs of returning animation, 
 and more than once the people gathered about 
 them shook their heads dubiously, as effort after 
 effort on the part of the doctors to bring them 
 to, resulted in failure. Their youthful frames 
 had proven less able than the others to resist 
 the combined attacks of noxious air, chilly damp- 
 ness, want of food, and, more than all, the awful 
 foreboding of despair ; for at first none of the 
 party had any thought of possible rescue. The 
 boys had been the first to yield to insensibility, 
 and when rescued they were so utterly spent 
 170 
 
Burial of the Dead. 171 
 
 that the flickering spark of life was with diffi- 
 culty kindled again into its wonted flame. 
 
 Mrs. Atkins prayed beside her boy, some- 
 times audibly, while the doctors worked with 
 him as he lay upon the blankets brought from 
 home. At last, however, he opened his eyes, 
 and tried feebly to respond to his mother as she 
 called his name. There was bewilderment upon 
 his face, an evident oppressive sense of recent 
 terrible events, struggling with uncertain appre- 
 hension of the present strange scenes all about him. 
 
 "Archie, darling, you are safe. You are here 
 with your mother and father. It 's all over, 
 dear." 
 
 Then, after another struggle, the boy regained 
 consciousness perfectly. It was now clear to 
 him that he had been rescued. He put his arms 
 around his mother's neck, as she leaned over him, 
 and pulled her face down close beside his own, 
 and cried for joy. The next moment he recog- 
 nized his father also, and threw one arm about 
 his neck. The father had never known such a 
 moment of happiness in all his history. It 
 seemed as if he would hug the boy to death, 
 while the crowd of spectators cried and rejoiced 
 at the same time with the rejoicing family. Then 
 the doctors interfered, to forbid any one else 
 speaking to him. So feeble was he, they said, 
 that a little overexertion now might prove fatal. 
 
172 Camerton Slope. 
 
 Shryock and Tangey were soon able to give 
 an intelligent account of what had befallen 
 them, of their failure to hear the sounds which 
 had apprised others of the danger. So hard at 
 work had they been that they knew nothing of 
 what had happened in time to attempt an escape. 
 The two Poles came bounding [into 57 through 
 one cross-cut almost at the same instant as Ar- 
 chie and Sam rushed in through the other, chased 
 by the tide, whose force was now nearly spent. 
 Happily the occupants of the room were able 
 to recover their dinner-buckets and coats before 
 the flood covered the place where these belong- 
 ings were usually placed. Then came the never- 
 to-be-forgotten agony of that waiting to see 
 whether the water would rise high enough to 
 overwhelm and drown them in their prison. 
 
 These few things the men were compelled to 
 say, to satisfy the eager crowd of people that 
 waited for their words with almost breathless in- 
 terest. But as the questions came faster and 
 faster, and promised to be endless, one of the 
 doctors again interfered, and asked the people to 
 wait for the remainder of the story, and not tax 
 the exhausted men too far. 
 
 These three happy families, constituting a 
 group by themselves, did not, however, ab- 
 sorb the whole attention of the people. The 
 physicians had passed from one to another of the 
 
Burial of the Dead. 173 
 
 sufferers as promptly as possible, and scores of 
 willing hands were quickly employed, under the 
 doctors' directions, in the various endeavors to 
 restore all the party to consciousness. 
 
 One of the Poles responded to these atten- 
 tions, and regained his senses at about the same 
 time as did Archie. He looked round about 
 from one to another in a dazed sort of way, and 
 then, as the fact of his deliverance clearly dawned 
 upon him, he began to pour forth, after a wildly 
 happy fashion, his joy and gratitude in words 
 which were unintelligible to all except his own 
 countrymen, but whose import could readily be 
 inferred. The other Pole and Sam Smallwood 
 proved to be the most serious cases, and after 
 several hours of effort neither of them was 
 clearly conscious of what had taken place, or 
 was now taking place about him. 
 
 Sam's parents were greatly distressed, and it 
 required no little art on the part of the doctors 
 to comfort them with the assurance that Sam 
 would *' come out of it all right." As to the 
 still unconscious Pole, they could promise very 
 little. His case presented serious features of 
 collapse, not found in any of the others in the 
 same degree. 
 
 Shryock and Tangey asked their neighbors 
 to join them in a short service of prayer and 
 thanksgiving before they left the place for home. 
 
174 Camerton Slope, 
 
 Somebody started a familiar hymn, which was 
 sung very softly but with soulful earnestness by 
 the little group ; and then, as by one impulse, 
 they dropped upon their knees while the two 
 rescued men audibly offered thanks for their de- 
 liverance. They were followed by others, who 
 praised God that the dead were alive again and 
 the lost ones found. 
 
 Nor did they in the midst of their rejoicing 
 forget to pray for those distressed families to 
 whom the outcome had been so terribly disap- 
 pointing. No possible hope remained as to any 
 of the still missing men. It was evident from 
 the height of the water-line in 57 that, if any of 
 them had sought refuge in the adjoining rooms, 
 the flood had risen high enough to overwhelm 
 and drown them. 
 
 The first faint streaks of dawn were visible 
 in the eastern sky when the people began to 
 form the line of march back to Gamerton. Four 
 of the rescued party were carried on stretchers. 
 Shryock and Tangey professed their ability to 
 walk, but were not suffered to make the attempt. 
 In large wagons, with plenty of straw and 
 blankets under them, they rode together with 
 their families. The wagons went very slowly, to 
 avoid jolting, and all the parties reached home 
 in safety. 
 
 Sam Smallwood recovered consciousness in 
 
Burial of the Dead. 175 
 
 transit across the mountain, to the great joy of 
 his parents, who had never left his side for a 
 moment. He would not consent to be taken to 
 his home till he had seen Archie and the rest of 
 his late fellow-prisoners. 
 
 All of them were reported that evening as 
 doing well — as well as could be expected — ex- 
 cept the unfortunate Pole. His rescue had come 
 too late. He lingered until about midnight, and 
 then breathed his last just twenty-four hours 
 after his deliverance from the mine. 
 
 After the men were gotten out of the drift, 
 the pipes of the syphon were quickly connected ; 
 and before the people started for home, the pipe- 
 line had begun to discharge a great volume of 
 water down through the Caledonia Valley. The 
 water-cars in the south entry had already made 
 some impression upon the water; and now, 
 under the combined attack of both these agen- 
 cies, the flood began very perceptibly to give way. 
 
 At first the perpendicular fall of the water 
 was slow; but as its wide surface gradually con- 
 tracted, the descent was more rapid. In the 
 afternoon, it was possible to float on a raft 
 through the cross-cuts on either side of 57 into 
 the face of the adjoining rooms; and in one of 
 them, tw^o bodies were found. The men had 
 evidently sought refuge there from the advancing 
 flood, but only in vain. 
 
176 Camerton Slope. 
 
 From this time onward, bodies were recovered 
 at various intervals, and in different parts of the 
 entry, until all had been accounted for. But 
 few of them were found in the rooms where 
 they had worked. For the most part, it seemed 
 that they had been overtaken in their race for 
 life — a race in which they had no chance against 
 their swifter adversary, by reason of the dark- 
 ness. He could laugh at such an obstacle ; to 
 them it was a fatal hindrance. Some of them 
 were found in places where only utter bewilder- 
 ment and panic could have carried them; but, 
 under all the circumstances, the marvel was 
 that so many should have escaped the fate of 
 the unfortunate eleven. 
 
 The bodies were not all recovered until Mon- 
 day ; and it was decided to hold public funeral 
 services the next day. Little groups of mourn- 
 ers had already followed each body to its last 
 resting-place, and the solemn funeral rites had 
 been performed in the usual manner. 
 
 About half of the lost men were Roman 
 Catholics — communicants of Saint Michael's 
 Church at Hawksville, more than two miles 
 distant, over which Father Rafferty presided. 
 Hawksville was but little larger than some 
 of the other mining communities immediately 
 surrounding it ; but on account of its being 
 the seat of the big church where Father 
 
Burial of the Dead. 177 
 
 RafFerty and two assistant priests officiated 
 every Sunday, it enjoyed a proud pre-eminence. 
 It was, in fact, the religious headquarters for 
 half a dozen mining villages. 
 
 Father RafFerty was well known and very 
 highly esteemed in all the region round about. 
 The contrast in personal appearance and man- 
 ner between him and his fellow-priests was often 
 remarked by the people. He was well advanced 
 in years, of spare build, and quite tall, with a 
 decided stoop in his shoulders, mild blue eyes, 
 and a kindly expression of countenance. He 
 was of grave and reverend aspect, and exercised 
 great influence for good over the mixture of 
 various foreign peoples who constituted the 
 major part of his flock. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fact that one of the 
 junior priests was a native German, and that the 
 three priests taken together were masters of 
 several languages besides the English, it was 
 still needful to employ the aid of interpreters in 
 ministering to the needs of their great parish. 
 The assistants were both young men, not so tall 
 as their superior, and more inclined to corpu- 
 lence ; and though the one was a German, and 
 the other an Irishman, their rotund forms and 
 ruddy features suggested a sameness of pattern 
 which made it easy to mistake the one for the 
 other. 
 
178 Camerton Slope. 
 
 Father Rafferty's service for the dead was 
 held on Tuesday morning, in the presence of a 
 great congregation of both Protestants and 
 Catholics, which crowded to excess every foot of 
 space in the large edifice. After mass had been 
 celebrated by the junior priests, Father Rafferty 
 delivered an address, which, for its tender sym- 
 pathy, its pathos, the singular beauty of its lan- 
 guage, and the earnestness of its appeal to the 
 living to prepare to meet their God, was remem- 
 bered for many a day. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, the Protestant service 
 was held at Camerton. So large was the con- 
 course of people that it was deemed best to 
 abandon the attempt to occupy any of the 
 churches. The people assembled in the large 
 hillside cemetery, where the several ministers 
 who had charge of congregations in the village 
 conducted the services, each of them delivering 
 an" address. Again, as in the morning service. 
 Father Rafferty's people and the other congre- 
 gations mingled together ; and a deep sense of 
 solemnity rested upon all alike. The people 
 were greatly affected ; and hundreds of them 
 wept during the plaintive singing and the 
 touching utterances of the several pastors. 
 
 After the religious services were over, the 
 newly-made graves were plentifully bestrewn 
 with flowers. 
 
THE RESCUED PARTY TELL THEIR STORY. 
 
 S was natural, the desire of the commu- 
 nity to hear all that Shryock and his late 
 fellow-prisoners had to say about their terrible 
 experience could not be long restrained. Peo- 
 ple were curious to know what they were doing 
 when the flood burst upon them, and in particu- 
 lar what they did, what they said, and even 
 what they thought, after it became a certainty 
 to them that their escape was cut off. 
 
 If they had been actually resurrected from 
 the dead they could scarcely have been the sub- 
 jects of a more lively interest than they had 
 now become, after being entombed for a week 
 under such peculiar circumstances. 
 
 As we have seen, Shryock and Tangey had 
 already told as much of the scenes through 
 which they had passed, as the doctors would 
 suffer them to tell, on the night of their rescue. 
 
 179 
 
i8o Came ETON Slope. 
 
 As their systems responded readily to the re- 
 storative effects of nourishing food and home 
 comforts, they were able in a day or two to 
 answer all the questions which their neighbors 
 and friends so eagerly propounded. 
 
 It was not, however, until Archie and Sam 
 had contributed their mite to the fund of in- 
 formation that the whole story was fairly be- 
 fore the people. But for the testimony of the 
 boys themselves, the community would never 
 have known of the self-denying efforts of the 
 elders of the party to save the lives of their 
 younger companions. But Archie and Sam, 
 with great minuteness of detail, told all about 
 it — how the morsel of food which Shryock and 
 Tangey had brought from home for their own 
 dinners, on the day of the flood, was saved for 
 the boys, and forced upon them ; how, even de- 
 spite their protests, they had been wrapped up 
 in the men's coats, to protect them from the 
 chilly dampness; how they had slept in the arms 
 of their benefactors, for additional warmth ; how 
 they had been instructed in religious things, and 
 led to cast themselves upon God's mercy for the 
 forgiveness of their sins through Jesus Christ, 
 and had obtained a good hope of everlasting 
 life. Besides this, Shryock had been strong in 
 the conviction from the first, or after the first 
 twenty-four hours, that they would be rescued. 
 
Story of the Rescued Party. i8i 
 
 To the others of the party, who knew the 
 facts of the situation as well as himself, rescue 
 seemed impossible. They knew no method 
 sufficiently speedy by which their friends could 
 get at them, or get rid of the water. 
 
 Shryock did not pretend to tell them how the 
 rescue was to be effected. Of this he knew 
 nothing. But on the second day of their im- 
 prisonment it came to him " like a revelation," 
 he said, that God would bring them out. He 
 told his companions this, and though they pro- 
 fessed to be incredulous, they really lived upon 
 his inspiriting and confident words. He was 
 their prophet and high priest ; he stimulated 
 their waning vitality, and toned up their powers 
 of resistance against their worst foe — an atmos- 
 phere that grew more and more poisonous as 
 the days went by. 
 
 In response to a request for a detailed ac- 
 count of his own situation when the flood came, 
 Archie said: 
 
 '* I had just placed an empty car in Num- 
 ber 60, and was on the way down to the entry, 
 leading my horse by the bridle, when I first heard 
 the rush of the water, and felt the wind. The 
 sound was awful, and I shall never forget it. I 
 tried to save my lamp from going out, for I felt that 
 my life depended on it ; but the current of air was 
 too strong, and in spite of all I could do, the light 
 
 i3 
 
1 82 Camerton Slope. 
 
 went out, and, almost in the same instant the 
 water struck me, as it rushed up from the entry. 
 I thought I would give the world for time enough 
 to light one of the matches in my pocket. 
 
 " There was only one thing to do, and that 
 was to turn and run back up toward the face 
 of the room. It was plain sailing, of course, 
 while I kept the track, and I managed to dash 
 along about as fast as I ever did anywhere in 
 my life. But the water kept close to my heels 
 for awhile, and sometimes I thought it was 
 gaining on me. But I got the start of it at last, 
 and then I determined to try to get through 
 into 59j and to work my way outward if I could 
 find the cross-cuts. Once or twice while I was 
 feeling for the cross-cuts the water caught up 
 with me, and I had to wade. I knew where I 
 was all the time, and I tell you I was glad when 
 I got through into 57, and saw their lights only 
 a few yards away. It was the first light I had 
 seen since my own was put out. 
 
 "Sam Smallwood came through the cross- 
 cut just after I did. I must have passed him 
 on the way; for he was outside of me when I 
 started. I heard the sound of fellows scram- 
 bling along just as I was. I do n't know who 
 they were ; but twice, when I found the cross- 
 cut we were all searching for, I shouted out, 
 "Here it is! Here's the cross-cut!" and then 
 
Story of the Rescued Party. 183 
 
 hurried on. There was no chance for me to get 
 out any farther than 57, as the cross-cut on the 
 other side was lower down, and was filling up 
 with water. We had to move up toward the face 
 of the room, the next moment after we got into 
 it. The Poles had got into 57 before I did. 
 They came through from the other side. Their 
 escape had been cut off in the outward direc- 
 tion, and they turned back to the higher ground 
 in 57." 
 
 Sam Smallwood had substantially the same 
 experience as Archie, in running up toward the 
 face of the rooms to keep out of the way of the 
 water, while at the same time trying to work his 
 way out of the entry as far as possible through 
 the cross-cuts. His face was bruised and bleed- 
 ing when he reached 57. 
 
 " I ran against a prop in 59," he said, "and it 
 stunned me so I did n't know where I was for 
 a while ; and I stuck right there till the water 
 hit me and waked me up. It seemed like it was 
 comin' in big waves. I thought I was a goner, 
 sure enough ; but right then I heard Archie's 
 voice ahead o' me, and I knew it. He hollered 
 out, ' Here 's the cross-cut — this way!' I expect 
 Ife must 'a' rushed past me while I was standi n' 
 an' foolin' at that prop. I made a quick dash 
 or two, and got ahead o' the water again aud 
 through the cross-cut. Some poor fellows must 
 
1 84' , Camerton Slope. 
 
 *a' been drownded right behind me. 'Pears like 
 I can hear 'em yet, the way they hollered for 
 God to have mercy on 'em when the water 
 knocked 'em down." 
 
 Sam , shuddered as this awful experience 
 came vividly {o his mind once more. 
 " - Tlie six who found, themselves imprisoned in 
 No. 57 were in a sad situation. Escape was cut 
 off on both" sides ;: and 'the still advancing water 
 drove them farther up the room, toward the 
 solid wall known as the'" face," which marked 
 the utmost 'limit of possible retreat; . 
 - The only ray of hope was in the fact that the 
 water was • now rising less and less rapidly. 
 Very anxiously they looked into each other's 
 faces, aiid measured over and over again with the 
 eye the distance that yet reuiained between the 
 water-line and the face of the room. 
 
 "It's going to stop rising presently," Shry- 
 ock said; "and it may be a matter of a few 
 feet, or perhaps only a few inches, with us. 
 Let 's tear up the track and gather up all these 
 loose timbers, and make a kind o' crib out of 
 them at the face. We may need it to climb up 
 on out of the water. 
 
 It was a relief to be doing something, and 
 they worked at it with a will, the Poles as- 
 sisting them as soon as they could be made to 
 understand what was intended; for they knew 
 
Story of the Rescued Party. 185 
 
 very little English, and communication was liad 
 with them as much by signs as by words. 
 
 A crib, large enough to hold all the party on 
 its top, was soon erected. It reached upward 
 two-thirds of the distance, to the roof; and a 
 sufficient number of four-inch scantlings were 
 found to make a level platform on top. ' 
 
 As soon as this was finished, they again be- 
 gan to watch the' progress of the water. 
 V "I believe in my soul it's quit risin' !" cried 
 Sam, as he held his light down close to the 
 water's edge. 
 
 '' Thank God for that " said Tangey. '' We '11 
 soon tell for certain," he added, as he took a 
 nail from his pocket, and with a sledge drove it 
 into a prop to mark the height of the water. 
 
 Others of the party fixed marks of their own, 
 and then for some minutes they sat down and 
 watched them, each with his eye fixed .intently 
 upon his own mark. They were' satisfied at 
 last that the water had ceased to' advance. 
 
 "Thank God ! thank God!" passed fervently 
 from mouth to mouth. 
 
 ''We are safe for a while, at least," remarked 
 Tangey. 
 
 " Now," said Shryock, " let us give thanks to 
 God for sparing us for this little while; and 
 then we '11 think what to do next." " • 
 
 Down they got on their knees at the water's 
 
1 86 Camerton Slope. 
 
 edge. It was not the first time that the voice 
 of prayer had been heard there. Under other 
 and more favored circumstances, the two butties 
 had been accustomed to talk with God audibly 
 in that room, and to sing his praises in concert. 
 It was not in derision that No. 57 liad been 
 designated by the other miners " The School of 
 the Prophets." 
 
 After the prayer was over — a prayer in which 
 a plea for deliverance was joined with an equally 
 earnest plea for reconciliation to the Divine will, 
 whatever that might prove to be — they left the 
 water-marks where they had placed them, and 
 entered on a long and earnest discussion as to 
 any possible hope of rescue. 
 
 " In the first place," said Tangey, " nobody 
 outside will think for a minute tliat it 's possible 
 for anybody to be in here alive." 
 
 *' If they only knew that we are alive in 
 here, they 'd work mighty hard to get us out," 
 remarked Archie. 
 
 "Of course they would," replied Sam; "but 
 they '11 not be thinkin' now of findin' anything 
 but our dead bodies, and " — he was going to add 
 something else, but his lips quivered, and he 
 stopped short. A moment later he continued : 
 "I'd like to see my mother before I go. It's 
 mighty hard to be took away like this,*" without 
 a chance to say good-bye." 
 
Story of the Rescued Party. 187 
 
 This was the first sign of " giving way " that 
 any of the party had shown, so intensely occu- 
 pied had they been ; but the feeling quickly be- 
 came contagious. The impulse of grateful re- 
 lief which had led them to rejoice in finding a 
 temporary refuge was now giving place to an 
 overmastering sense of the fact that their doom 
 was none the less certain because it had been 
 stayed for a while. 
 
 Sam's reference to his mother had turned the 
 thoughts of all toward the loved ones at home, 
 and the boys were not alone in brushing away 
 the tears which began to plow white furrows 
 down griuiy cheeks. It was some time after 
 this before any one spoke. 
 
 It is a trite saying that home and friends and 
 the dear scenes of childhood are never so in- 
 viting as when one is leaving theui forever. To 
 each member of this little beleaguered group, 
 looking into the face of death, the home that he 
 had left behind that morning seemed the truest 
 type of paradise that he had ever known, and 
 his heart clung about its inmates with a fond- 
 ness which no effort of words can describe. 
 
 When conversation was resumed, it turned 
 again upon possible plans of rescue ; and it is 
 worthy of remark, that, as was afterwards dis- 
 covered, just at the same time as the crowd 
 in and around the engine-house outside were 
 
1 88 Camerton Slope. 
 
 debating the various plans of rescue which we 
 have mentioned in a previous chapter, some of 
 the very same plans were under discussion by the 
 group on the inside. The drift plan, however, 
 was not thought of, and each of the others was 
 dismissed with the despairing remark: 
 
 " If they only knew that we are alive, they 
 could do it.'* 
 
STORY OF THE RESCUED PARTY CONTINUED. 
 
 EARLY in the evening the party proceeded 
 to make what arrangements they conld for 
 their comfort during the night. If any one asks 
 howr' they could know what time of day it was, 
 the answer is, by the amount of oil which Shry- 
 Dck's lamp, the only one kept burning, had con- 
 sumed. Their supply of lamp oil was limited, 
 the -supply of fresh air still more so ; and to 
 economize in the use of both, all tlie lamps 
 were extinguished except one. ' ^^-'" - - 
 
 ; Shyrock's lamp was selected as tlTe' solitary 
 luminary because its owner- had experimented 
 with*^ it sufficiently in other days, to be able to 
 measure time with it with a good degree of ac- 
 curacy. 
 
 Most miners are accustomed to judge of the 
 passage of time underground, in a rough way, 
 by the same method; the length of time that a 
 
 189 
 
iQo Camerton Slope. 
 
 lampful of oil will burn depending, of course, 
 upon the size of the lamp, the thickness of the 
 wick, and, as much as anything else, whether 
 the lamp is stationary or in motion. A lamp in 
 constant motion upon a miner's cap, consumes 
 more oil than when it hangs stationary in one 
 place. 
 
 Shryock's estimate was that his lamp, when 
 in motion, with the wick at the ordinary height, 
 would burn "for a neat two hours," once filled 
 with oil ; but hanging where he now placed it, 
 upon a prop in the center of the room, and with 
 the wick, for economy's sake, turned low, it would 
 last '' for a good two hours and a half" The 
 lamp, therefore, not only gave them light, but 
 became their time-piece as well. A clean piece 
 of scantling, marked with a bit of chalk, was used 
 to keep the score, and every time the lamp was 
 filled with oil the time of day or night thus in- 
 dicated was marked with the chalk. 
 
 It was decided that the lamp should be kept 
 burning continually, night and day, as long as 
 the oil lasted ; not only that they might keep 
 the run of the time, but for other and more im- 
 portant reasons. The depressing effect of con- 
 tinuous darkness is very well known ; and, besides, 
 it was determined that they would not all go to 
 sleep at one time. There should be a continu- 
 ous watch night and day, so as to be ready for 
 
Story of the Rescued Party. 191 
 
 any emergency, such as the rise or fall of the 
 water, and particularly as there was good reason 
 to believe that the effect of such an atmosphere 
 as they must now breathe would be to bring on 
 a stupor, from which there might be no awaken- 
 ing. They wished to keep alive and conscious, 
 for a few days at least, to see if any possible de- 
 liverance might reach them, though they knew 
 no way of escape, and had little real hope. It 
 would be easier for the watchers to keep awake 
 if a light were burning, than if they must sit in 
 total darkness. 
 
 The night was divided into three watches — 
 from eight to twelve, from twelve to four, and 
 from four to eight. Shryock and Archie had the 
 first watch, Tangey and Sam the second, and the 
 Poles the-^ third. 
 
 The preparations for the night's repose were 
 of the simplest character. Several piles of 
 '' slack," or fine coal, were dug, to make as soft 
 a bed as possible, and each of the sleepers fixed 
 a lump of coal, or a block of wood, in such a 
 way as to serve for a pillow. When these ar- 
 rangements were completed they sang a hymn, 
 and Tangey, standing close by the prop which 
 held the lamp, read a passage from the Bible, 
 which, as we have before remarked, was a part 
 of the furnishing of the room. Shryock fol- 
 lowed with an earnest, tender prayer, in which 
 
192 • Camerton Slope, 
 
 he seemed almost to forget his own situation in 
 his concern for the loved ones of their several 
 households, who, doubtless, were at that very 
 time in an agony of distress on their account. 
 
 Four of the party now stretched themselves 
 on their beds of slack, and were not long in woo- 
 ing sleep. The reaction, after the _ terrible ex- 
 citemeiit of the day's events, was on thEm::, There 
 •was. nothing that they could do to help-; them- 
 selves ; ' there was nothing to be done but to wait^ 
 and waiting was already becoming monotonous. 
 
 As soon as the others lay down to rest, Shry- 
 ock took down his lamp from the prop, and he 
 and Archie went down to the water's edge, a 
 distance of scarcely ten yards, where they sat 
 down, partly for the purpose of watching the 
 water, but chiefly that they might talk without 
 disturbing their comrades. The various marks 
 indicated no change in the position of the water. 
 It was not advancing, and indeed they.had ceased 
 to apprehend any farther rise; but though they 
 looked long and steadily at the marks, they were 
 compelled also to admit the disappointment of 
 their secretly-indulged hope of a perceptible de- 
 cline. The water-line remained persistently just 
 where it had been several hours before. The con- 
 versation then passed to other subjects, and, first 
 of all, to the probable term of life that remained 
 to them. 
 
SHRYOCK AND ARCHIE IN THE MINE. 
 
Story of the Rescued Party. 193 
 
 *'How long," asked Archie, *^can any one live 
 without anything to eat?" 
 
 *' I don't think it's worth while to meddle 
 with that question at all," replied Shryock. 
 "It 's not starvation that's going to kill us, but 
 the want of fresh air." 
 
 " Will it be hard to die in that way?" queried 
 Archie again. 
 
 " I do n't think it will. Have n't you noticed 
 that in church sometimes we get drowsy when 
 there's a big crowd of people there, and no 
 ventilation? I remember once," continued Shry- 
 ock, ''in the big meeting we had four years ago, 
 when the old church was packed night after 
 night so you could n't get standing room, the 
 air used to get so foul the lamps would n't burn." 
 
 "Did they go out?" asked Archie. 
 
 " Not entirely out, but they would get so low 
 we could n't half see. The preacher would beg 
 for fresh air ; and he said the people who made 
 a church that could n't be ventilated ought to be 
 put in the penitentiary. Then some of us sawed 
 a piece out of the strip that held up the upper 
 sash, so we could let down the window from the 
 top. That night, when the air got foul again, 
 we went around and lowered the windows; and 
 when the fresh, cold air rushed in, something 
 like snow seemed to fall down on the people's 
 heads. I did n't know what to make of it ; but 
 
194 Camerton Slope, 
 
 others saw tlie same thing, and said it was very 
 queer. But I 've found out by reading, that real 
 snow is made in that very way. The air will 
 get so foul here by and by, I think, that the 
 lamp won't burn any longer; and then, after a 
 little, our lamp of life will go out, too." 
 " Can we live a. week?" asked Archie. 
 *' Perhaps; but I 'm not so sure of it." 
 From this the conversation turned to the 
 future life, and the conditions of salvation 
 through Jesus Christ. Archie was as eager to 
 listen as Shryock was to talk. Passage after 
 passage was read from the Bible and commented 
 on in that plain yet direct and forceful style 
 which made James Shryock's expositions of 
 Scriptural truth so entertaining and profitable 
 to young and old alike. True, it was the same 
 old, old story which Archie had often heard be- 
 fore from the same lips ; but the place, the time, 
 the circumstances, all conspired to invest the 
 theme with all the mighty force and reality of 
 truth. Archie's heart was tender and receptive 
 that night; and the things that had so often 
 seemed to him mere matters of theory, and 
 nothing more, now took on the character of 
 very real and tangible matters of fact. He fed 
 upon Shryock's words. They were bread to his 
 hungry soul. And in response to the pointed, 
 moving appeal of his friend and teacher, he felt 
 
Story of the Rescued Party. 195 
 
 that lie coidd and did accept Jesus Christ as his 
 present, personal Savior. 
 
 When the lamp indicated twelve o'clock, 
 Tangey and Sam were w^aked up ; and the first 
 watch "turned in" on their, bed of slack. The 
 Poles slept soundly until they were in turn 
 called up for the third watch. At eight, all 
 hands were aroused. So profound had been the 
 slumber of forgetfulness on the part of one or 
 "two, that for some moments after they were 
 awake they could scarcely realize where they 
 were. Archie in particular looked around in 
 seeming bewilderment, and began to shiver — 
 with the cold it seemed at first; but as the full 
 sense of all that had happened came back to 
 liiui, a well-defined shudder took possession of 
 him so that he could not keep still. All the 
 party complained of feeling cold. 
 
 "Let us work a few minutes," said Shryock, 
 "to get ourselves warm; and then we'll see 
 what we can find for breakfast." 
 
 While three of the party took down the 
 crib and rebuilt it a couple of yards away so as 
 to allow more room at the face, two others dug 
 some more slack; and Sam, taking up a shovel, 
 said with a touch of humor that he would 
 "make up the beds." He then proceeded to 
 shovel over the piles of slack, so as to "turn 
 the soft side up," as he expressed it. It took 
 
 14 
 
196 Camerton Slope. 
 
 but a few minutes of brisk work to get their 
 blood in circulation, and dissipate the chill 
 which had oppressed them on awaking. 
 
 Shr\'ock and Tangey then brought their 
 dinner-buckets forward into the center of the 
 group; but before opening them, they invited a 
 general consultation as to the disposition of the 
 food. None of the party had tasted a morsel of 
 anything to eat since their early breakfast at 
 home the day before. The exciting scenes of 
 yesterday had served in great measure to forestall 
 appetite ; but now, after their fast of more than 
 twenty-four hours, hunger began to assert itself. 
 Their stock of food was all contained in those 
 two dinner-buckets, each holding an ordinary 
 midday-lunch for one man. How should it be 
 disposed of? Should they eat it all up at once, 
 or should they hold back a morsel for several 
 days to come ? 
 
 Archie and Sam, and also the Poles, dis- 
 claimed any right to the food. It belonged to 
 Shryock and Tangey, they said ; and as death 
 awaited them all, it made little difference who 
 went first. The owners of the dinner-buckets, 
 however, declared that they would never touch 
 a morsel of it unless their comrades joined them ; 
 and it was then decided to make a three-days' 
 allowance of the food, serving an equal morsel 
 to each one, once a day in the morning. 
 
Story of the Rescued Party. 197 
 
 It was a very small piece of bread that was 
 dealt out to each of the party that morning, 
 and it served apparently only to whet to a keener 
 edge the appetite that had partially slumbered 
 until then; but when the distribution had been 
 made, and the morsel consumed, the remainder 
 of the food was resolutely put away. 
 
 The water supply was as ample as heart 
 could wish. It had settled, and become clear by 
 this time, but the strong sulphur taste forbade 
 the use of any more of it than was absolutely 
 necessary. 
 
 Then followed morning prayers, solemn and 
 extended religious exercises, in which all took 
 some part, and each expressed himself in view 
 of approaching death. 
 
 " There's somethin' I want to say right now," 
 said Sam. " I Ve been wantin' to say it fur a 
 good while, but 'peared to me I didn't have 
 no good chance." Sam hesitated a moment, 
 and then went on: "I done Archie a mighty 
 mean trick about a year ago, an' I've bin awful 
 sor-y for it lots o' times since, but I was too 
 big a coward to tell him about it. It was me 
 and Tim McCoy that broke into Jerry Coule- 
 han's spring-house, and stole his milk and but- 
 ter, and had a fight with his dog. When we 
 found out that there was goin' to be trouble 
 about it, we blamed it on Archie an' Mac Castle, 
 
198 Camerton Slope. 
 
 coz we knew that they was on the mountain 
 that day ; for we saw 'em, an' fired rocks at 'em 
 in the Welshman's Pass. That was the mean- 
 est thing I ever done in all my life," continued 
 Sam, " and I want to ask Archie right here to 
 forgive me, and I want to ask you all to help 
 me to pray for God to forgive me, too." 
 
 "I forgive you with all my heart, Sam," said 
 Archie, as he reached over to Sam, and shook 
 him heartily by the hand. *' I 'm sure you 
 never would have done it if it hadn't been for 
 Tim." 
 
 '' Thank you, Archie," replied Sam with great 
 feeling, as he brushed away a tear. *' You do n't 
 know how I 've hated myself many a time about 
 that thing. It 's a fact it was Tim that led me 
 on ; but I was too willin' to be led. I hope God 
 will forgive me for what I done in that trial." 
 
 ^'lyctus ask him to do so right now," said 
 Shryock. 
 
 They got down upon their knees again, and 
 after a few words of prayer by the elders of the 
 party, both of the boys struggled through a short 
 supplication, and then they rose to their feet 
 again. 
 
 '' There 's one thing more," continued Sam ; 
 "I want the people to know about this, and I'll 
 not get out alive to tell 'em. I wish we had 
 some paper to write on, so they 'd find it after 
 
Story of the Rescued Party. 199 
 
 we are dead ; but we have n't got it. How would 
 it do if I 'd fix up some o' them scantlin's again' 
 the rib, an' write on 'em?" 
 
 *' Very well, m.y boy," said Shryock, as he 
 rose to his feet, " we '11 soon fix a place for you 
 to write." 
 
 Three of the cleanest four-inch scantlings 
 were soon propped up against the wall, one on 
 top of the other, so as to form a kind of board. 
 Sam then took the chalk, and after spending 
 some time in deciding on the form of his com- 
 position, scrawled the following words : 
 
 *' Before I die I want to tell the people of Camerton 
 that I swore a false oath again' Archie Atkins and Mac 
 Castle. It was me and a pardner that done the damaje on 
 Jerry Coulehan's place last summer. 
 
 "Sam Smallwood." 
 
 There was little variety in their mode of life 
 after this, except that, after the third day, stupor 
 took possession of them to such an extent that 
 they lost their reckoning. This was partly owing 
 to the difficulty in keeping the lamp burning in 
 the vitiated atmosphere, and partly to the fact 
 that the watchers could not keep awake to give 
 the lamp the proper attention. Several times 
 they found themselves in total darkness, after a 
 general sleep of indefinite length, and lit the 
 lamp again with matches. 
 
200 Camerton Slope. 
 
 Shryock and Tangey at last heard the un- 
 mistakable sounds of the work of rescue in the 
 drift. They roused up their slumbering com- 
 panions, and told them to listen for themselves. 
 There was a general shout of rejoicing, and a 
 service of thanksgiving in the now total darkness. 
 
 But again the almost fatal stupor crept over 
 them. It became impossible to keep up even a 
 semblance of a watch. Shryock would wake up 
 at intervals, and use his utmost endeavors to 
 arouse his companions, but found it, toward the 
 end, an impossible task. 
 
 As may be readily imagined, the Camerton 
 people listened with almost breathless interest 
 to these recitals. They asked a thousand ques- 
 tions touching every feature of the terrible ex- 
 perience through which the party had passed, 
 and seemed reluctant always to drop this subject 
 for something else. 
 
TAKING UP THE OLD LIFE AGAIN. 
 
 THE next day after the funeral, Camerton 
 Slope resumed work; and before the week 
 was out, things were moving along" at nearly 
 the usual pace. The great calamity had be- 
 come a matter of history. For the time it had 
 absorbed every energy and every thought of the 
 people; but its day was now past, and new 
 duties and new cares crowded hard upon each 
 other. The people were compelled to turn 
 their attention from the past to the present. 
 
 It is not to be wondered at that, for a day or 
 two, things went rather slowly; the men worked 
 listlessly and with a kind of half-heartedness 
 that was very unusual in the Camerton mine. 
 Each man seemed to labor under a sense of 
 oppression, that sat like a nightmare upon his 
 energies. As to the men in the south entry — 
 reminded, as they were at every turn, of com- 
 
 201 
 
202 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 rades who had disappeared forever — the work 
 of the rest of the week was only a "make-be- 
 lieve." It could all have been done in a single 
 day under other circumstances. 
 
 To some of my readers it may seem strange 
 that they could return to work at all after such 
 an experience; and, indeed, candor compels me 
 to say that there were those among the miners 
 of the south entry who said tliat they could not 
 and would not work again in the Camerton 
 Slope; but notwithstanding these positive dec- 
 larations, they fell into line with the others 
 when the time came, and went on with their 
 work as if they were wholly unconscious of 
 having announced their intention of abandoning 
 coal-mining for a living. 
 
 In this they were simply like other men en- 
 gaged in dangerous occupations. Scarcely ever 
 does a shipwreck occur, which drowns one-half 
 of a ship's crew, but that the other half, strug- 
 gling to save their lives, resolve that if they 
 ever reach the shore in safety, they will hence- 
 forth remain on terj'a fir ma to the end of their 
 days. But the rule is, that the typical sailor, 
 well out of one great danger, returns to a sea- 
 faring life at the first opportunity, and proceeds 
 to add one hairbreadth escape to another. 
 
 Railroad men exhibit the same tendency; 
 and it is not difficult to find almost any nuni- 
 
Taking Up the Old Life Again. 203 
 
 ber of veteran railroaders, bruised and scarred 
 by various accidents, who have made and broken 
 half a dozen resolutions to find some other and 
 safer occupation. 
 
 Archie and his late companions in peril did 
 not return to work qnite 'so soon as the rest. 
 The strain which they had undergone left its 
 traces upon them for many a day. The shock 
 to. their nervous systems, the doctors said, had 
 been a more serious feature in their case than 
 even the lack of food or the poisonous atmos- 
 phere. By degrees, however, they recovered 
 their tone, and at length went back to their for- 
 mer employment. 
 
 As was to be expected, Sam Smallwood's 
 *' Card "to the public, written upon the scant- 
 lings in 57, soon came in for its due share of 
 consideration. Scores of the miners had gone 
 into the drift, on the night of the rescue, to see 
 the place where the party of six had been 
 cooped up for so long. The scantlings, propped 
 up against the rib, attracted their attention, and 
 the wTiting was scanned with eager curiosity. 
 The comments thereon were more emphatic 
 than elegant, and can not for the most part be 
 reproduced here; yet Silas Coleman and Sandy 
 Cameron, who were among the first to read the 
 writing, fairly voiced the prevailing sentiment: 
 
 *' CamertQn '11 be a mighty sight too hot for 
 
204 Camerton Slope. 
 
 Tim McCoy when this gets out,"' said Silas, 
 after spelling his way through the writing. 
 
 "It's the very thing that everybody's be- 
 lieved all along," replied Sandy, as he put his 
 spectacles back into the case, after reading the 
 writing through a second time. 
 
 Tim was in the crowd that waited about the 
 drift that night, and wdth the others went in- 
 side after the guard had been taken away. He 
 little knew what was in store for him. 
 
 "Here, laddie," said Sandy Cameron, who 
 had just finished his comment as Tim came 
 up; "here's a message for you;" and, with a 
 look and gesture equally expressive, he pointed 
 to the writing. 
 
 Tim was not to say a good scholar, but he 
 took in the import of the writing much more 
 promptly than some of the others who read it 
 that night, and he was not long in making his 
 way out of the drift. He foresaw the conse- 
 quences as clearly as any one else, and began 
 at once to prepare to meet or evade them. It 
 was fortunate for Tim that the attention of the 
 people was absorbed in the care of the rescued 
 party, and the attempts made to restore them 
 to consciousness. Then came the finding of 
 the bodies of the others, and the funeral — mat- 
 ters which intensely occupied all Camerton. 
 
 Finally, however, the interest of the people 
 
Taking Up the Old Life Again. 205 
 
 returned to Sam's written statement, and numer- 
 ous questions were propounded to liim covering 
 every feature of the subject. His account of 
 the matter was frank and full, Shryock and 
 Tangey confirming his statement that, in the 
 face of what seemed to be approaching death, 
 he had confessed the wrong done to Archie, 
 and had sought and obtained his forgiveness. 
 
 In the meantime Tim McCoy was nowhere 
 to be found. Just as after his fiasco in the old 
 church-spire he found it convenient to pay a 
 visit to distant friends, so now he slunk out of 
 sight again, no one knowing anything about 
 his disappearance till some days afterwards. 
 His father declared that he did not know where 
 Tim had gone, and in this it was believed that 
 he spoke the truth. 
 
 By regular process the judgments against 
 Archie Atkins and Mac Castle for trespass upon 
 Jerry Coulehan's premises were reversed, and 
 the fines which they had been compelled to pay 
 upon the perjured testimony of Tim McCoy and 
 Sam Smallwood were refunded. 
 
 Jerry Coulehan, on learning that his proud 
 victory in his first law-case had resulted in the 
 conviction of innocent parties, was not a little 
 distressed. He came to see Archie, not only to 
 congratulate him on his escape, but to apolo- 
 gize for his mistake in prosecuting him. 
 
2o6 Camerton Slope. 
 
 "By me sowl!" said Jerry, " I 'm the manest 
 feeliii' man that iver was. I 'd rayther that me 
 tongue should clave to the roof uv me mouth 
 than be guilty uv prosecutin' innocent people." 
 
 *'I know that very well, Jerry," replied 
 Archie, " and I never thought any the worse of 
 you for it. If I had, you know, I wouldn't 
 have been on as good terms with you in night- 
 school and debating society as I was." 
 
 "Ay, that's so," remarked Jerry. "It's a 
 noble lad that ye are; and I hope ye '11 forgive 
 the one mistake that I made in settin' out in me 
 law business. That miserable spalpeen, Tim 
 McCoy, led me asthray intirely ; he swore agin' 
 ye wid a face as hard as a brass monkey. 
 Shure, an' the divil will niver have his own till 
 he gets that same Tim McCoy." , 
 
 Jerry drove around to all the homes of the 
 rescued party, and presented them with such deli- 
 cacies as his farm produced; but the choicest of 
 everything was reserved for Archie. It did the 
 old man "a power of good," as he expressed it, 
 to watch his young friend drinking the milk 
 and eating the apples and peaches which he 
 brought in great abundance. On one of these 
 visits Jerry said: 
 
 " I 'm doing a little detective work to find 
 that scamp, Tim. I 've an idea that I know 
 where his hiding-place is. Faith, an' I 'd give 
 
Taking Up the Old Life Again. 207 
 
 ivery cent uv a hundred dollars to find liim this 
 minute." 
 
 "What for?" asked Archie. 
 
 "What for? — is it what for ye 're askin' me? 
 Why, for the fun uv prosecutin' him," continued 
 Jerry, as he swung his arms aloft after his ac- 
 customed manner in moments of excitement. 
 "I'd make a speech that wad be a caution to 
 snak-es. I 'd take hould uv him wid the red- 
 hot pinchers uv me indignation, an' make him 
 think that all the bottled thunders uv the day 
 of judgment had leaped onto him to wunst. 
 Och! but it wad do me a mortal sight o' good to 
 have hould uv him in a court o' justice !" 
 
 The Literary Society, whose sessions had 
 been interrupted by the late disaster, now went 
 on again as before, and was in full blast when 
 Mr. Pancoast came on to open up the winter 
 term of the night-school. It did not take the 
 teacher long to make up his mind that it 
 would be to the interest of all parties — himself 
 included — not to interfere with "The Camerton 
 Literary and Debating Society." He therefore 
 proposed that the society should be blended 
 with the school, and have one night in the 
 week to itself, and offered to take the part of 
 critic. This suggestion met with ready accept- 
 ance, and the teacher proved to be a valuable 
 assistant to the young members. 
 
2o8 Camerton Slope. 
 
 Jerry Conlehan's ambition to be a great law- 
 yer in nowise abated as time sped on. His old 
 cronies at Barney Dillon's gave him up as one 
 who had utterly forsaken them, and ceased at 
 length to make his new departure a subject of 
 mirth. A genuine love of learning, re-enforced 
 not a little by visions of future fame, seemed to 
 have swallowed up the old appetite for drink; 
 and one of the subjects on which he now grew 
 most eloquent was the time which he had wasted 
 in idleness, and the money spent for drink. " If 
 I had it to-day," he said, "it would take me 
 through the best college in the land." 
 
 It is to be doubted, however, whether Jerry's 
 more regular attendance at Father Rafferty's 
 church was prompted by any higher motive than 
 a desire to study the reverend gentleman's ora- 
 tory ; but it was a great gratification to the priest 
 that for any reason whatever Jerry had aban- 
 doned his habit of drinking, and was now giving 
 more attention to religious duties. 
 
 Quite a degree of interest was awakened 
 in Camerton Church-circles by the announce- 
 ment, made a few weeks after the rescue 
 of Shryock and his companions, that, on the 
 next Sabbath, i\rchie Atkins, Sam Smallwood, 
 and Mac Castle would offer themselves for 
 membership in the Methodist Church. The 
 late calamity had brought no greater dis- 
 
Taking Up the Old Life Again. 209 
 
 tress to any one whose immediate family had 
 escaped than to Mac Castle. He had made a 
 very narrow escape himself, and ran np and 
 down the lye at the foot of the Slope, searching 
 in every corner for Archie. When it was too 
 evident that Archie was certainly among the 
 missing, Mac sat down on the ground and cried 
 as if his heart w^ould break. 
 
 It seemed to him a miracle that Archie had 
 been preserved alive ; and when he found that 
 Sam and Archie had both resolved to dedicate 
 themselves to God in public, as they had already 
 done while imprisoned in the mine with death 
 staring them in the face, he needed no second 
 invitation to join them. After the miracle of 
 Divine Providence which had allowed himself 
 to escape, and at length brought forth his dear- 
 est friend alive, Mac felt that he could 'no longer 
 hesitate to take a step which he had often de- 
 bated in his own mind before, and wdiicli had 
 been the subject of many a conversation be- 
 tween himself and Archie. 
 
 There was some delay on Sam's account. A 
 self-confessed perjurer, he hesitated about con- 
 necting himself wdth the Church, when it seemed 
 probable that the law was about to lay hands 
 upon him ; but it soon became evident that he 
 had but little to apprehend in this direction. 
 His own voluntary confession, and the extraordi- 
 
2IO Camerton Slope. 
 
 nary circumstances attending the case, rendered 
 the community in general very tolerant, and the 
 officers of the law very reluctant to proceed to 
 extremes against him. His father came forward 
 and paid the fine which had been assessed for 
 the act of trespass, and Sam repeated in Squire 
 Hogan's court the same confession which he had 
 made to Archie, and offered to bear all the legal 
 consequences of his crime in giving false testi- 
 mony ; but, as we have stated, there was no dis- 
 position to carry the matter any farther. 
 
 It was not until all these matters had been 
 adjusted that Sam felt free to present himself 
 for Church membership. Many a heart was af- 
 fected at the spectacle, and many a benediction, 
 silent and vocal, was pronounced upon the three 
 youths who came forward to the chancel of the 
 church that Sabbath morning, and made public 
 profession that their lives, so marvelously pre- 
 served, should henceforth be consecrated to God's 
 service. 
 
 "That's some more of Shryock's work," said 
 one of the old miners as he came out of the 
 church, after having warmly shaken the boys by 
 the hand. 
 
 There was, in truth, abundant evidence be- 
 fore this that " The School of the Prophets," in 
 Number 57, had not existed in vain. 
 
THE STRIKE. 
 
 THE winter, with its season of comparative 
 rest for the miners, had come and gone, 
 and the busy springtide was once more sum- 
 moning all hands for another campaign, when 
 there began to be rumors of strange doings at 
 Barney Dillon's saloon. 
 
 It was reported that the upstairs front room 
 was no longer to be occupied by the family, but 
 had been set apart as a lodge-room, or place of 
 meeting for a new secret order. It was difficult 
 for the outside public to learn the object, or even 
 the name, of the new organization. So carefully 
 were its secrets guarded, and so non-communi- 
 cative were those who had it in charge that, for 
 once, the most curious people in Camerton were 
 nonplused. 
 
 The air was thick with all sorts of conflicting, 
 and even alarming rumors as to the purposes of 
 
 15 2X1 
 
212 Camerton Slope. 
 
 the new and mysteriously guarded society; but 
 it soon began to be evident that those who talked 
 the most about it really knew the least. The 
 more discerning ones remarked the fact that cer- 
 tain well-known frequenters of Barney Dillon's 
 place never took any part in these conversations 
 about the new lodge. Whenever the subject 
 was introduced — and it was introduced every- 
 where — they all pursued the same tactics; they 
 relapsed into an attitude of stolid indifference, 
 and left the talking to others. If asked a direct 
 question, no item of information could ever be 
 gleaned from them. They seemed to know 
 nothing of the existence of any such organiza- 
 tion, or who composed its membership. It was 
 therefore vShrewdly conjectured, by some, that 
 the men who knew so little were really the 
 knowing ones, and that the policy of silence was 
 one of the rules of the organization. 
 
 The better class of the Camerton people be- 
 gan to be uneasy. They observed, so far at 
 least as they could even guess at its composition, 
 that the new order was made up of a class of 
 men who, to say the least, were not model citi- 
 zens. The quarrelsomeness of their dispositions, 
 and the frequent brawls that grew out of their 
 drunken sprees, were not the worst qualities of 
 some of them. It was even said that several of 
 these parties had '* sobered up " of late ; but there 
 
The Strike. 213 
 
 was nothing very reassuring in this, since they 
 seemed to belong to that peculiar type of men who, 
 in their drunken sprees, seem to be possessed of 
 virtues which appear at no other time. The 
 silence of these men was more ominous than 
 any words which they might have spoken. 
 
 " The Brotherhood," as it now began to be 
 called, was not long in showing its hand. 
 
 • One morning, as the men began to gather 
 about the engine-house at the usual time for be- 
 ginning the day's work, it was found that the 
 mouth of the slope was barricaded with timbers, 
 so as to prevent the entrance of any one, and 
 notices were posted on the timbers, and in vari- 
 ous other conspicuous places, announcing that 
 work would be suspended in the Cam er ton Slope 
 until there should be an advance in wages. Kacli 
 notice was decorated with a skull and cross- 
 bones prominently displayed, while at the bot- 
 tom, in a blood-red color, was a significant 
 *' Warning!" to any man who should disregard 
 this notice. 
 
 There was great consternation among the 
 men, as they arrived in constantly increasing 
 numbers, and found themselves confronted by 
 the barricade and the various notices which 
 gave the only explanation of it. 
 
 There had been a growing dissatisfaction 
 with the wages paid for months past, and the 
 
214 Camerton Slope. 
 
 miners in the employ of the various companies 
 in the neighborhood had held several con- 
 ferences with their employers on this subject. 
 It was feared that a general strike was impend- 
 ing ; but no one dreamed that it would be pre- 
 cipitated in such a way as this. 
 
 While the men at the Camerton Slope were 
 still excitedly discussing this bold movement, 
 word was brought that similar notices were 
 posted up at the neighboring mines also. 
 
 " How could this blockade be put up here, 
 and the night watchman not see it?" asked one 
 of the men, with savage earnestness. 
 
 ** But suppose the watchman helped 'em to 
 do it?" replied another, with a knowing look. 
 
 A search was then made for Paul Jenkins, 
 the night watchman. At first it seemed that he 
 was nowhere to be found. The men who went 
 to his home reported that he was not there ; and 
 his wife, wdio was in great distress, declared 
 that she had not seen him since he left home to 
 begin his shift the night before. 
 
 He was presently discovered, however, by 
 the engineer, whose attention had been at- 
 tracted by a strange noise which seemed to 
 come from a dark corner in the rear of the 
 engine-house. There stood Paul Jen..ins, the 
 night watchman, bound hand and foot to an 
 iron standpipe. There was a gag in his mouth, 
 
The Strike, 215 
 
 so that he could not utter any articulate sound, 
 but was able to make the noises which had at- 
 tracted the attention of the engineer. 
 
 The men rushed into the engine-house ; and 
 the excitement reached fever-heat when they 
 saw Paul standing there, with his back to the 
 standpipe, and so securely bound that he could 
 scarcely move a muscle. It was impossible for 
 him to get his hands to his mouth, or to reach 
 any of the fastenings that held him from be- 
 hind. 
 
 A little active work with the engineer's sharp 
 knife, and Paul was able to stretch his limbs 
 once more — much to his relief — and also to 
 tell all he knew of the matter, which proved to 
 be not a great deal. 
 
 " I was passing along between the engine- 
 house and the weigh-office about one o'clock, 
 when, all at once, souie men stepped out from 
 behind the office — I suppose there must have 
 been a dozen of 'em — and the one in front said : 
 
 " ' Paul Jenkins, you can go home now; we 've 
 got charge o' things here.' 
 
 "'Who are you fellows?' says I, 'and what 
 do you want?' 
 
 "'Never mind about that,' says he; 'it'll 
 be better for you to do just as we tell ye.' 
 
 " 'I '11 do nothing of the kind,' says I. ' I 'm 
 the watchman here, and have charge o' things 
 
2i6 Camerton Slope. 
 
 myself. You all had better go away, and not 
 raise a disturbance around here.' 
 
 '''Then,' says another fellow, as he steps up 
 close to me, ' if ye won't do as we 're telling ye, 
 we '11 have to tie ye up. We ain't a-goin' to 
 hurt ye ; but if ye make any noise about it, 
 ye '11 get this ;' and he put a shooting-iron in 
 my face. 
 
 "Then they felt in my pockets for the keys 
 of the engine-house ; and, when they got the 
 door unlocked, they marched me in here and 
 fixed me the way you saw me." 
 
 Paul Jenkins's metal had been tested in va- 
 rious affrays before, and he was known as a 
 brave and reliable man ; so that the men who 
 were now listening to him were of the opinion 
 that he had told the exact truth as to what had 
 happened. 
 
 "Who was them fellows?" asked one of the 
 miners. 
 
 "I don't know," was the answer. "They 
 had their faces tied up, so I could n't see 'em 
 very well ; but I do n't believe they were our 
 men." 
 
 •Now that the men had all the light on the 
 subject that they were likely to get, there seemed 
 to be but one opinion among them as to the 
 authors of this bold scheme. Though no one 
 pretended to say who were the individual actors 
 
The Strike. 217 
 
 ill the plot, the men did not hesitate to attribute 
 its inception to the new organization that had 
 been formed in their midst. Their worst fears 
 were confirmed ; it was. only too evident at last 
 that they had in Camerton a lodge or branch of 
 the much-talked-of and much-dreaded " MoUie 
 Maguires." 
 
 Mr. Harris ordered the outside laborers to re- 
 move the timbers which barricaded the mouth 
 of the slope. The men looked at one another, 
 but not one of them would move. They were 
 sorry to disobey him, they said, but they did n't 
 want to make themselves marks for the ven- 
 geance of the " Mollies." 
 
 Hoping to overcome the fears of the men 
 and to induce them to follow his example, Mr. 
 Harris went to work himself in a very resolute 
 manner. With his own hands he removed 
 every timber out of the way, and then he 
 ordered the engineer to start the engine. 
 
 " I shall have to think awhile about that, sir," 
 was the answer. 
 
 Before Mr. Harris could make any reply, a 
 number of the men, who had been holding a 
 brief consultation, came forward, and Sandy 
 Cameron, who was their spokesman, said : 
 
 "Mr. Harris, if ye '11 suffer a word o' advice 
 from some o' us, we 'd like to say to ye, do n't 
 insist on starting the mine to-day. There's a 
 
2i8 CAiMERton Slope. 
 
 big trouble at hand, and we've got it to meet. We 
 want to meet it in the best wa)^ that we can. 
 We do n't want to make any false steps at the 
 outset. It 's a question o' human life that 's 
 looking us in the face, and w^e must be a little 
 careful. Give us one day off, and we '11 call a 
 meeting this afternoon, and get to the bottom o' 
 this thing, and we pledge ye that if there 's any 
 kind o' tolerable security for us, some o' us at 
 least will go to work to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Harris could see no better way out of the 
 dilemma, and so he assented to this proposition. 
 The horses were sent back to the stable, the en- 
 gineer banked up his fire, and the miners selected 
 a number of active young men to go at once to 
 all the neighl3oring mines, and summon the men 
 to a conference. 
 
 In the vicinity of Hawksville a large pasture- 
 field, known as " the big meadow," had for 
 many years been used as a convenient place for 
 large, open-air meetings of the miners. It was 
 a popular resort for picnics, Sunday-school gath- 
 'erings, and political mass-meetings. The natu- 
 ral features of the locality gave some counte- 
 nance to the notion, often expressed by the 
 people, that the place was made for just such 
 uses. The nearly level field contained several 
 clusters of trees, and various other shady nooks, 
 made by the vines and undergrowth which 
 
The Sir ike. 219 
 
 thickly lined a small stream of water, fed by the 
 never-failing springs in the hillsides, and which 
 wended its way, with many a cnrious turn, along 
 the side of the field nearest to Hawksville. 
 
 It was at the opposite side of the field where 
 the speaking usually took place. Here the open 
 field terminated in a small forest of oaks and 
 maples on rising ground, which furnished a very 
 inviting shade. A speaker's stand had been 
 erected at the edge of the woods, while the audi- 
 tory generally sat or reclined on the luxurious 
 and largely moss-carpeted sward under the shade 
 of the trees. 
 
 A great concourse of miners assembled at 
 this place at two o'clock that afternoon, in re- 
 sponse to the request of the Camerton men for a 
 conference. After the meeting had been regu- 
 larly organized by the appointment of a president 
 and a secretary, Sandy Cameron mounted the 
 stand so as to be the better seen and heard, and 
 stated that the Camerton miners had called the 
 conference to find out, if possible, who was re- 
 sponsible for the blockading of the slope, and 
 the posting of the notices which announced a 
 strike, and, by implication at least, pronounced 
 a sentence of death upon any man who "should 
 continue to work. For himself, and on behalf 
 of his fellow-miners in the Camerton Slope, who 
 had requested him to speak for them, he de- 
 
220 Camerton Slope. 
 
 nouiiced this action as an outrage upon the 
 rights and liberties of the Camerton men ; and if 
 the authors of this midnight conspiracy were 
 present, he demanded of them that they should 
 now show cause for this unwarranted proceeding. 
 
 For a few moments there was silence; then 
 one after another of the representatives of the 
 various mines arose, and stated that similar no- 
 tices had been posted at their mines also. They 
 were ignorant as to the authors of these per- 
 formances, and desired to be enlightened. 
 
 It soon began to be evident that no strike 
 had been authorized by any considerable num- 
 ber of the miners present. Indeed, not one was 
 found who attempted to justify the action that 
 had been taken by parties as yet unknown, and 
 who, if present, refused either to acknowledge 
 or defend their action. In the discussion that 
 followed, however, it appeared that quite a num- 
 ber were disposed to take advantage of present 
 circumstances, and refuse to return to work until 
 the desired advance in wages had been granted. 
 Some others, who acquiesced in this conclusion, 
 were undoubtedly influenced by their fear of the 
 Molly Maguires. 
 
 After a vain attempt to induce the miners to 
 agree to go to work the next day, Sandy Cam- 
 eron declared that since the conference could 
 give no explanation of the strange proceedings 
 
The Strike. 221 
 
 of the night before, and would not justify them, 
 it was folly to proclaim a strike now unless they 
 meant to submit themselves altogether to the 
 rule of irresponsible and invisible vagabonds, 
 who lacked the courage to pursue honorable 
 methods, and whom no honorable man could 
 follow without shame. As for the Camerton 
 men, he said, they now gave notice that they 
 would not join a strike which a dark-lantern, 
 cut- throat conspiracy tried to force upon them. 
 
 This deliverance was greeted with mingled 
 cheers and hisses. The conference was hope- 
 lessly divided, and there seemed to be no pros- 
 pect of a general agreement. The men who 
 wanted to strike, and the men who were afraid 
 to go to work, were in the majority. After 
 the announcement of the Camerton men, the 
 conference soon came to a close. The Camerton 
 Slope would resume work as usual the next day ; 
 the other mines would be idle. One result of 
 the conference was to create a gulf between the 
 Camerton men and the others, and some sharp 
 passages occurred between the two factions. 
 Sandy's parting shot at the other side was : 
 
 ''Gentlemen, you ought not to adjourn till 
 you have passed a regular-built resolution, com- 
 mending the eminent virtues of the dark-lan- 
 tern, lawless, invisible creatures that you are 
 going to follow for your captains.'* 
 
2 22 Camerton Slope. 
 
 A yell of defiance was the only answer to 
 this sally, and, in the midst of no little confu- 
 sion, the conference broke up without a formal 
 adjournment. 
 
 The Camerton men were in a hopeless mi- 
 nority, and it was soon evident that they were 
 not all persuaded that the course which they 
 had taken was the best. At all events, scarcely 
 more than half the men were on hand the next 
 morning to begin the day's work. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF THE MOLLIE MAGUIRES. 
 
 THE reader who is unfamiliar with the his- 
 tory and peculiar character of the Mollie 
 Maguire movement in the coal regions of Penn- 
 sylvania, may find it difficult to appreciate the 
 ferment produced in Camerton and the adjacent 
 communities by the discovery of the existence 
 of that order in their midst. 
 
 For some years the anthracite-coal regions, 
 in the eastern part of the State, had been over- 
 run and terrorized to a remarkable degree by 
 this *' midnight, dark-lantern, murderous frater- 
 nity," as it was aptly described in one of the 
 processes at law. Thus far, however, the organ- 
 ization had not extended itself westward of the 
 Alleghanies; and the people accounted them- 
 selves secure, until they were startled out of 
 their comfortable illusion by the events narrated 
 in the last chapter. 
 
 223 
 
224 Camerton Slope. 
 
 The society or order known as the "Mollie 
 Maguires" had its origin in Ireland, and it ap- 
 pears to have grown out of a combined attempt 
 on the part of certain tenants to resist the pay- 
 ment of rents. When the agents came around 
 on their collecting tours, they were seized by 
 the tenants, and beaten or ducked in the ponds, 
 or stoned out of the neighborhood. As the men 
 who perpetrated these indignities were dressed 
 in women's clothes, they came to be called "The 
 Mollies." They were also known as "Ribbon- 
 men," "Ancient Order Men," and "Sleepers." 
 Their identity with "The Ancient Order of Hi- 
 bernians" has been repeatedly affirmed, and just 
 as persistently denied; but there is evidence 
 that prominent MoUie Maguires in this country 
 were accustomed to speak of themselves and 
 others of their number as "Ancients." 
 
 The organization seems to have crossed the 
 ocean and established itself in this country in 
 the few years immediately preceding the War of 
 the Rebellion. It reached the zenith of its 
 power and influence in the years immediately 
 following the war; and in the districts subject 
 to its baleful influence it was more to be dreaded 
 than the Rebellion itself. Men were waylaid 
 and killed at night, and even shot down in open 
 daylight — sometimes on the public highway, 
 sometimes while engaged in their duties at the 
 
The Mollis Maguires. 225 
 
 mines, and sometimes at their homes. These 
 deeds of bloody violence were always done by 
 strangers^ who generally disappeared before they 
 could be captured. After this fact was once es- 
 tablished, strangers came to be looked upon 
 very generally with suspicion. A group of two 
 or three unknown men appearing on the street 
 in any of the mining regions during this "reign 
 of -terror" were likely to be shunned, as being 
 very probably Mollies out on some murderous 
 expedition; and innocent people were often 
 placed under arrest by the sorely puzzled officers 
 of the law. 
 
 The chief objects of the vengeance of this 
 death-dealiiig conspiracy were the superintend- 
 ents and managers of collieries, police officers 
 who were especially active in ferreting out these 
 various crimes, and miners who refused to obey 
 their behests in the matter of strikes and other 
 features of their policy.* 
 
 -•■'We append a few instances of the murderous work of 
 this secret, oath-bound conspiracy of assassination : In the 
 month of August, 1865, Mr. David Muhr, superintendent of 
 a colliery, was killed in Foster Township, Schuylkill 
 County, Pennsylvania. In January, 1866, Henry H. Dunne, 
 a well-known mining superintendent of Pottsville, was 
 killed in his carriage, on the turnpike, two miles from the 
 city. In October, 1868, Alexander Rae, a mining superin- 
 tendent, was killed near Centralia, in Columbia County. 
 March, 1869, Wm. H. Littlehales, superintendent of the 
 Glen Carbon Coal Company, Schuylkill County, met the 
 
 16 
 
226 Camerton Slope. 
 
 The difficulty in bringing the perpetrators of 
 these crimes to justice lay in the fact that the 
 secret work of the organization embarrassed 
 every step of the proceedings, so that ordinary 
 methods utterly failed to reach and convict the 
 guilty parties. Mollie Maguires appeared on 
 the witness-stand in every trial, and sat on the 
 juries that tried their partners in crime, while 
 the well-founded fear of assassination led the 
 witnesses of some of the boldest murders to flee 
 from the neighborhood, or suffer imprisonment 
 for contempt, rather than give evidence in a 
 court of ju.stice. But the favorite method of 
 defense employed by the IMollies, and one that 
 for a long time seemed to be all-sufficient, was 
 the alibi. The murders, as we have stated, 
 were always committed by strangers. If after- 
 wards the guilty parties were arrested and 
 brought to t-ial, the Brotherhood would furnish 
 any number of men to swear that the accused 
 parties were personally known to them, and that 
 they were in some other place at the time of the 
 murder, and could not therefore be the perpe- 
 trators of the crime. 
 
 same fate. In December, 1871, Morgan Powell, assistant 
 superintendent of the Lehigh and Wilkesbarre Coal and 
 Iron Company, in Carbon County, was put to death. Also, 
 F. W. S. Langdon, Geo. K. Smith, and Graham Powell, all 
 managers or bosses, in the same county. It would be easy 
 to extend the list of victims. 
 
The Moll IE Maguires. 227 
 
 It is in evidence, also, since this strange epi- 
 demic of lawlessness was suppressed, that it had 
 in view other and more ambitious projects than 
 merely influencing wages, or the "removal" of 
 objectionable bosses. Its heavy hand was felt 
 in political affairs, and it began to be a control- 
 ling force in the elections for filling county 
 and State offices. Not only miners but reputa- 
 ble citizens of the highest standing received 
 communications signed only with the skull and 
 cross-bones — the sign-manual of the organiza- 
 tion — admonishing them to change their politi- 
 cal course, or to cease their opposition to certain 
 candidates. So far-reaching was this terrorism 
 that men in no way connected with the organi- 
 zation, or even with the business of mining, 
 voted openly what was known as the " Mollie 
 Maguire Ticket," though it was repugnant to 
 their convictions and sentiments. 
 
 By a system of signs and passwords, it was 
 possible for the Mollies to recognize each other 
 in any community, and even in the darkest 
 night. These signs and words were known as 
 "the goods," and were changed every three 
 months. "The goods" came from Ireland by 
 special messengers, and were sent to all the 
 lodges by other messengers. These important 
 secrets were never intrusted to tlie mails. 
 
 The head of each local subdivision, or chap- 
 
228 Camerton Slope. 
 
 ter, was styled the "bodymaster," one of whose 
 duties it was to open each meeting of the lodge 
 with prayer — a ritual service being employed 
 for the purpose. As a specimen of the methods 
 of recognition employed by the Mollies for use 
 among strangers, we give " the goods " for one 
 quarter : 
 
 Challenge. Put tip of little finger of right 
 hand to outer corner of right eye. 
 
 Answer. Catch right lapel of vest with little 
 finger and thumb of right hand. 
 
 Night challenge. *'The nights are very dark.*' 
 
 Anstver. " I hope they soon will mend." 
 
 Quarreling toast. "Your temper is high." 
 
 Anszver. "I have good reason." 
 
 Whenever it was determined to put some 
 boss or superintendent, or other objectionable 
 person, out of the way, the bodymaster of the 
 lodge which had passed the sentence of death 
 would call upon the bodymaster of some lodge 
 more or less distant from that community for a 
 detail of men to do "a clane job." The lodge 
 thus called on was bound to honor the call, and 
 always decided by lot who should do the bloody 
 deed. The men thus selected proceeded to the 
 neighborhood indicated; and, when the intended 
 victim had been pointed out to them, they some- 
 times " shadowed " him for several days before 
 an opportunity occurred to strike the fatal blow. 
 
The Mollie Mag ui res. 229 
 
 The miners outside of the Brotherhood, and 
 particularly those suspected of being antago- 
 nistic to it, were called " Modocs." How many 
 of these Modocs paid with their lives the pen- 
 alty of having incurred the enmity of the 
 Mollies can never be known. Upon the disap- 
 pearance of a Modoc, a report frequently found 
 its way into circulation that he had gone to 
 visit his friends, or had gotten work at some 
 other colliery. There was, however, sometimes 
 positive knowledge that a murder had been 
 committed ; and any sort of a report to the 
 contrary, though circulated with the usual in- 
 dustry, failed to satisfy the public or to silence 
 investigation. 
 
 Bad as the organization was in its spirit and 
 aims, and stained with the blood of innocent 
 and worthy men, it seemed unnecessary to paint 
 it in blacker hues than its history would war- 
 rant ; but many of the stories concerning it 
 which had reached Camerton and vicinity were 
 wild and terrifying exaggerations. It was de- 
 clared that the leaders of the Mollie Maguires 
 were evil spirits in human shape, and that the 
 men who joined them thereby sold themselves 
 to Satan, and could never again recover their 
 freedom. It was said to be useless to attempt 
 to escape the vengeance of the Brotherhood 
 when once its enmity had been incurred, — it 
 
230 Camerton Slope. 
 
 had supernatural knowledge ; it would pursue 
 its victims to the ends of the earth ; it had 
 power, also, to "put a spell" upon people. It 
 was dangerous to speak a word against it to a 
 confidential friend, or even to think in opposi- 
 tion to it. It had power — so some people 
 claimed — to discover all such secrets, and would 
 punish its enemies by methods peculiarly its own. 
 If the fact has not already appeared in these 
 pages, it may be well now to state that some of 
 the mining villages were disposed to indulge a 
 feeling of jealousy toward Camerton. This was 
 especially marked in the attitude of the Hawks- 
 ville people. As Hawksville had the prominence 
 which belongs to a religious center, so Camer- 
 ton might be called the intellectual center of 
 the cluster of mining communities which had 
 taken part in the Big Meadow Conference. 
 Camerton was a more distinctively American 
 community than any of the others. While it 
 had the same mixture of foreign elements to be 
 found everywhere in the mining regions, yet the 
 English-speaking people largely outnumbered 
 the others, and the influence of American modes 
 of life was strongly marked. Camerton in gen- 
 eral represented a higher order of social life; 
 the homes were cleaner and better kept. It 
 was said that the Camerton people, both men 
 and women, could be picked out in any of the 
 
The Mollie Maguires. 231 
 
 great holiday gatherings by their better ap- 
 pearance; they were better and more becom- 
 ingly dressed, and, in general, qnieter and 
 better-behaved. 
 
 These characteristics of the Camertonians 
 did not, however, contribute to their popularity 
 with the people of the other villages. They 
 were looked upon as a kind of self-constituted 
 aristocracy, altogether "too proud and stuck-up." 
 
 And now the breach seemed to widen. The 
 Camerton miners had refused to join the strike, 
 and had even gone so far as to fling down the 
 gage of battle to the terrible Mollie Maguire 
 Brotherhood! 
 
 What would come of all this? 
 
 A great many of the miners of the several 
 communities found themselves sorely perplexed 
 by the turn of events. They were quite willing 
 to see the Camerton men humiliated and 
 punished ; but, on the other hand, there was a 
 very general feeling that the methods employed 
 in introducing the strike were far from being 
 the best, and ought to be frowned upon and 
 disowned. The Camerton men would have had 
 a following in resisting those methods had it 
 not been for the deep-seated fear of the secret 
 Brotherhood ; and that fear seemed to have the 
 widest sway among the lowest classes of the 
 people — those most inclined to superstition. 
 
THE LEADERS OF THE OPPOSITION. 
 
 WHEN the Camerton men returned home 
 that evening, after the Big Meadow con- 
 ference, their report of what had taken place did 
 not tend in the least to quiet the agitation that 
 had existed all day on account of the blockade 
 of the mine and the threatening notices. The 
 women in general, and the old men who were 
 too feeble to walk to the place of the conference, 
 had done scarcely anything the livelong day but 
 meet together in groups to discuss the situation 
 and calculate the probabilities of a strike. When 
 it was generally known that the miners had dis- 
 agreed, and that even the Camerton men were 
 divided among themselves as to the best course 
 to pursue, the friends of the pr.rty that had de- 
 cided to oppose the strike by continuing work 
 were filled with alarm. 
 
 Sandy Cameron's wife begged him not to ex- 
 232 
 
The Leaders of the Opposition. 233 
 
 pose himself to the danger, which there was too 
 good reason to apprehend at the hands of the 
 unscrupnlons men who had precipitated the 
 strike. Mrs. Cameron was a tall, angnlar woman 
 in person, thoroughly Scotch in feature and man- 
 ner, as well as in her style of conversation, with 
 a full share of that native shrewdness and vig- 
 orous quality of utterance, so often found among 
 the industrious and frugal Scottish women. 
 
 " Surely, Sandy," she said, "there's danger 
 eneugh i' th' mines o' themselves ; and now that 
 ye ha' escaped ha'ing your bones broken, or the 
 life crushed out o' ye a' these years, why should 
 ye in your old age invite the kind o' death that 
 these murdersome villains will deal out to ye, if 
 a' that's said aboot them's true?" 
 
 " Hey, woman, gi'e yoursel' ease, and dinna 
 fash your head wi' a' these foolish fears." 
 (Sandy always used his Scotch dialect with 
 greater freedom in his own house, and among 
 his own country people.) " The creaturs that 
 do such works as ha' been done hereaboots i' th' 
 night are not to be greatly dreaded by true men 
 wha keep their e'en open." 
 
 "There's nae security for true men ony mair 
 than for ithers, at the hands o' wretches ye 're sae 
 fond o' styling ' dark-lantern cut-throats.' It 's 
 the true men they '11 be lying in wait for." 
 
 " It 's scarce worth the while o' wasting 
 
234 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 words aboot it," replied Sandy. " I ha'e lived 
 in the fear o' God and in the respect o' the best 
 part o' my fellow-men ever sin' I came into 
 these parts. There's nane will say na to that; 
 yet mair than ance I ha'e been on the unpopu- 
 lar side o' these disturbing questions, and ha'e 
 had hisses and reproaches flung in my very 
 teeth by men crazed wi' drink and bent on 
 brewing mischief, and mair than ane o' these 
 same men has afterwards admitted himsel' i' tli' 
 wrang, and asked my forgiveness. Na, na, 
 Margaret; it'll not do for true men to be show- 
 ing the white feather now." 
 
 The wife was greatly distressed at Sandy's de- 
 termination to go to work, since she felt that it was 
 scarcely less than going straight to his own death; 
 and so she could not quit the subject, though she 
 was well aware that any attempt to divert him 
 from a purpose once fixed in his own mind must, 
 in all probability, prove unavailing. But she 
 dropped the argumentative style of appeal, and 
 in softened tones said, as her tears began to fall : 
 
 " Sandy, we ha'e lived together these a'most 
 forty years, and we ha'e been happy wi' ane 
 anither and the children that God has given us. 
 I ha'e never tried to control your way o' life in 
 general, as ye well know. I ha'e been content 
 to be a keeper at hame, and let ye be master o' 
 your ain conduct; and I ha'e been proud o' ye 
 
The Leaders of the Opposition. 235 
 
 for not bein' like sa mony o' the men aboot us 
 that ha'e nae character, and waste their lives wi' 
 drink and brawlin' ; but I 'm thinking, I may 
 say, wi'out self-glorying, that I ha'e fairly aimed 
 the right to make a request o' ye noo an' then, 
 that ye '11 heed for my sake.^' 
 
 "Ye 're putting it ower strong, Margaret," 
 replied Sandy, as he moved uneasily in his 
 chair, under the power of his wife's appeal. " If 
 I had played the part of a coward ten years 
 agone i' tli' troublous times we had then, would 
 ye ha' had the same occasion to be proud o' 
 me, as ye sa}^, for being different fra' some o' the 
 men aboot us? Ye know well, Margaret, that I 
 ha' set my face like a flint against strikes, and 
 a' attempts to settle differences atween man and 
 master by brute force, that just as like can be 
 settled in a more reasonable way. Are ye ask- 
 ing me now in a'most the end o' my days to gi'e 
 up my principles?" 
 
 ''I'm asking ye to gi'e up nathing that it's 
 your duty to maintain. In the time that ye 're 
 speaking of the case was different, and ye war a 
 younger man. There 'sua occasion, wi' sa mony 
 strong, lusty men aboot. Camerton who hold wi' 
 ye in this matter, that they should go into hid- 
 ing till ye ha' fought their battle, an' made it 
 safe for them to go to work. That kind o' serv- 
 ice canna be expected o' a man o' your years." 
 
236 Camerton Slope. 
 
 " What you lia' said aboot my years, Marga- 
 ret, is the very reason why I should continue to 
 stand by my principles to the end. I couldna 
 respect mysel', and life would be a burden, wi' 
 the recollection that I had gone down on my 
 knees to the miserable creatures that ha' taken 
 it upon themselves to issue their orders to \\s a' 
 as if we were nathing mair than their ain 
 whipped puppies." 
 
 It was at the supper table, in the room which 
 served the Camerons as dining-room and kitchen, 
 that this conversation had taken place on the 
 evening after the conference. It was a long, 
 rather narrow room, partly excavated out of the 
 hillside at the rear of the house, so that one 
 could easily step from the ground upon the 
 shed-roof at its lowest point. There was a door 
 and a full-sized window at each end of the hall- 
 like room, as well as two smaller windows up 
 close against the ceiling, in the rear. 
 
 What further conversation might have taken 
 place between Sandy and his wife w^as inter- 
 rupted by the sound of footsteps coming up the 
 walk and approaching the diniug-rooni entrance. 
 It was James Shryock and George Atkins, who, 
 in another moment, appeared in the doorway. 
 
 ** Come in, gentlemen, come in," said Sandy, 
 as he rose and handed chairs to his visitors ; and, 
 pointing to the table, which still contained a 
 
The Leaders of the Opposition, 237 
 
 bountiful supply of food, lie asked, '*Ha' ye 
 been to supper?" 
 
 " Yes, thanks," replied Shryock, as lie and 
 Atkins seated themselves. " We came home 
 with good appetites from our afternoon's exer- 
 cise in the open air, and I '11 venture to say — ■ 
 speaking for George as well as myself — that we 
 have both done ourselves full justice." 
 
 •"Yes, we got good appetites out of that con- 
 ference, and that 's about all we did get," put 
 in Atkins with a forced laugh, in which the 
 others joined. ''It was a conference to be re- 
 membered," he resumed. " I think, Sandy, that 
 I shall never forget your challenge to the dark- 
 lantern conspirators to appear and acknowledge 
 their work." 
 
 " True enough," remarked Shryock; " the old 
 veteran's tones had thunder in them. It sounded 
 almost like Gabriel calling the dead to come 
 forth." 
 
 "It's to be hoped, though," replied Sandy, 
 "that Gabriel will have better success than 
 I did." 
 
 " Nae doubt aboot that; he'll ha' higher 
 authority and stronger forces to back him than 
 you 've got," suggested Sandy's wife. 
 
 "We dropped in," said Shryock, "to ha' a 
 bit crack wi' ye wi'out the embarrassment o' 
 ha'ing people aboot us who are only ta'in notes 
 
238 Camerton Slope. 
 
 o' tilings and are not o' our school o' politics i' 
 tins matter." 
 
 Shryock was himself a Scotchman by birth, 
 but had left his native land in childhood ; and 
 besides a quite perceptible "burr," there was 
 very little to distinguish his speech from that of 
 a native American, only when, as on this occasion, 
 he dropped into a playful mood in the presence 
 of other Scotch people. 
 
 These three men of all others — and they well 
 knew it — had occasion now to be careful at 
 every step of their proceedings. Circumstances, 
 without any seeking on their part, had thrust 
 them into a kind of leadership of the opposition 
 to the Mollie Maguire tyranny. They had 
 openly spoken their minds that morning about 
 the high-handed attempt to force a strike upon 
 the miners by methods hitherto unknown in 
 that part of the country ; they had said to their 
 fellow-miners that such foreign growths had 
 better be nipped in the bud ; and, in the con- 
 ference that afternoon, they had worked hard to 
 brace up and consolidate the opposition to a 
 strike ordered by men who were still unknown. 
 
 " I'm fearing you three '11 get yourselves into 
 a trouble there '11 be na getting out o' wi' whole 
 bones," said Mrs. Cameron. 
 
 " That 's what all the women seem to think," 
 replied Atkins. "But you mustn't forget, Mrs. 
 
The Leaders of the Oppositioiv. 239 
 
 Cameron, that we did n't begin this trouble. 
 It's the doings of others that has stirred up 
 the mischief, and we 've got it to deal with. A 
 strike now will take the bread out of our mouths 
 for a good bit to come. And suppose it should 
 turn out," he continued, as a new thought 
 seemed to strike him — " suppose it should turn 
 O'.it that the men who did this thing are not re- 
 sponsible? Perhaps they are not even members 
 of this miserable Brotherhood ; perhaps they 're 
 nothing more than funny fellows putting up a 
 trick on us to scare us. And you know, Mrs. 
 Cameron, that nobody would make more fun of 
 us than our own wives, if it should turn out 
 that way. Anyhow, we '11 find out sooner who 
 the villains are by going on with the work." 
 
 "Ay, ay, Mr. Atkins! Ye 're overly clever at 
 making excuse for rushing into danger; but 
 I'm thinking it's not the business o' the men 
 to find out who 's at the bottom o' this inter- 
 ference wi' the work. It's the company's place 
 to take care o' their own property and find out 
 who it is that fences up their mines. I was 
 saying to my auld man before ye came in that 
 there 's surely danger eneugh i' mining o' 
 itself wi'out ha'ing honest men exposed to death 
 for being willing to work for a lawful wage. 
 Let the company, I say, and th' officers o' th' 
 law deal wi' this matter, and not the men !" 
 
240 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 Mrs. Cameron now began to clear away the 
 table, and the men went on with their consulta- 
 tion as to the best methods of procedure to pro- 
 tect themselves and to render the strike abor- 
 tive. It was learned that Mr. Morgan, the 
 superintendent, who had been absent from home 
 for several days, had returned, and that he and 
 Mr. Harris were arranging for a close watch 
 during the night, so that any prowlers about 
 the Slope were not likely to go undetected. 
 
 The three men thus associated in the purpose 
 to resist to the last extremity the MoUie Ma- 
 guire dictatorship which had suddenly chal- 
 lenged their obedience, were fully sensible of 
 the difficulties and dangers of the task they had 
 undertaken ; but they determined to go forward 
 with a bold front, keeping a sharp lookout on 
 every hand for any clue which might lead to a 
 discovery of the gang who had done the bold 
 work of the night before. They believed that 
 if they could locate these parties and bring 
 them to justice, Mollie Maguirism would be 
 discouraged at the outset. 
 
 They wrote a letter to Father Rafferty, re- 
 citing what had taken place thus far, and stating 
 there was good reason to believe that the men 
 who sought to introduce and establish the un- 
 lawful Brotherhood in that community were 
 members of "the big Church." He would have 
 
The Leaders of the Opposition. 241 
 
 more influence over them than any other man 
 or combination of men, and they appealed to 
 him to aid them and all other good citizens in 
 the adoption of vigorous measures for the sup- 
 pression of the evil at the very beginning. 
 
 "Ye'd better not stay out too late, and we 
 must all be careful and not go about too much 
 after dark," remarked Sandy, as they parted for 
 the night. 
 
 There was great curiosity, next morning, to 
 see how many of the men, and what particular 
 ones, would go to work. It seemed that all the 
 miners and other employees were congregated 
 about the mouth of the slope at the usual time 
 for commencing work, but it was evident that 
 many of them were there simply as spectators. 
 They had their evening clothes on, and did not 
 mean to go to work. Some visitors were there 
 also from the neighboring mines, anxious to see 
 whether any considerable number of the men 
 would finally venture to go to work. Earnest 
 discussion was going forward on all sides be- 
 tween the two opposing parties, and not alto- 
 gether without results; for several of the men 
 who had come to begin work, were led by the 
 arguments of the other side to change their 
 minds and join the strikers. But this breach 
 was abundantly repaired by the working party, 
 who persuaded more than an equal number of 
 
 17 
 
242 Camerton Slope, 
 
 their ''dressed-up" comrades to return for tlieir 
 working-clothes, and take a hand in the battle 
 for manly independence. 
 
 When these returned, all equipped for work, 
 it was something past the usual time for begin- 
 ning the day's labor; but much was gained by 
 the delay. As the new recruits for the working 
 party came in sight, all in a body, they were 
 greeted with hisses by several of the strikers ; 
 but this demonstration was quickly drowned by 
 a rousing cheer from the other side, and before 
 this burst of enthusiasm died out, the lamps 
 were lighted, and the men began their march 
 down the slope at a lively gait, hurrahing as 
 they went; while, at the same moment, the en- 
 gineer took part in the cheering with prolonged 
 and successive blasts of his steam-whistle. He 
 contrived also to add something to the already 
 deafening sounds by opening the mud-valve of 
 the boilers. The earth fairly shook under this 
 terrific roar; and the loiterers about the slope, 
 unable to "hear their own ears," found it im- 
 possible to indulge in any comments, or to 
 make their demonstration of disapproval ef- 
 fectual. 
 
 With evident disappointment and chagrin in 
 their looks and manner, the crowd gradually 
 melted away, and presently the day's output of 
 coal began as if nothing unusual had taken place. 
 
A DISCOVERY IN THE WEST ENTRY. 
 
 ONE of the incidents ontside the mine that 
 morning was the appearance of Pat Mc- 
 Coy among the working party, with his mining 
 clothes on, and apparently quite determined in 
 his purpose to oppose the strike. He was at 
 once surrounded by a number of his associates, 
 who expressed great surprise at his attitude, 
 and labored hard to dissuade him from going to 
 work. He turned a deaf ear, however, to all 
 their arguments, and employed his sharp tongue 
 with great freedom in belaboring the men who 
 were scheming for a strike, and also those who 
 had allowed themselves to be bullied into sup- 
 porting it against their will. 
 
 " Born tired ; that 's what 's the matter wid 
 yez," said Pat, addressing himself to the latter 
 class. ''If it 's a rest yer afther wanting, why 
 don't yez take it like men? Go home," he 
 
 243 
 
244 Camerton Slope. 
 
 added, waving his hand in a disdainful manner, 
 " go home, ivery mother's son o' ye, go home 
 and go to bed; send for the doctor to come and 
 feel yer pulse, an' give ye something to physic 
 the laziness out o' ye. That wud be better nor 
 raising a row to shtop men that are aftlier work- 
 ing while they can get it to do." 
 
 Against the men who had projected the 
 strike and barricaded the mine he hurled a copi- 
 ous variety of coarse and profane epithets, and 
 wound up by declaring that he would rather 
 help to hang them to a sour apple-tree than to 
 eat his dinner. 
 
 Pat's attitude on this occasion, and in partic- 
 ular his violent language toward men who were 
 well known to be his own particular cronies, was 
 a surprise to every one present. . 
 
 The day wore away without any occurrence 
 calculated to excite apprehension. Archie At- 
 kins was transferred from the south entry to the 
 west entry, the reason being that none of the 
 drivers of the west entry had reported for duty, 
 while, with a single exception, all the drivers of 
 the south entry were on hand. 
 
 Numerous precautions were taken that night 
 by the managers to guard against any injury to 
 the mine or the machinery, which should int'^r- 
 fere with the work the next day. A strong 
 guard was stationed in and around the engine- 
 
A Discovery in the West En try. 245 
 
 house ; the slope was illuminated from the mouth 
 to the lye at the bottom, so that no opportunity 
 should be afforded, under cover of darkness, for 
 cutting the rope, tearing up the track, knocking 
 out the timbers which supported the roof, or 
 any other species of destructive vandalism. The 
 dump-house, the weigh-office, the stable, and, in 
 short, all the property of the company were 
 watched in the same way. 
 
 Archie entered on his work in the west entry 
 with great reluctance, for various reasons. To 
 begin with, the route was a difficult one, and he 
 was altogether unacquainted with it. It was 
 new also to his horse, and this was no small 
 consideration. There was only one other driver 
 in the entry with him, and he also had been 
 transferred from another part of the mine, and 
 knew no more than Archie about the west entry. 
 It was fortunate for the two drivers that there were 
 but few men at work in that entry, so that they 
 had time to go cautiously, and thus learn, by de- 
 grees, where the grades and rough places in the 
 route were. 
 
 Archie's chief objection to the change was, 
 however, that he was separated from his partic- 
 ular friends just at the time of greatest danger. 
 The drivers, as well as the miners, knew that by 
 going to work they had aroused the angry resent- 
 ment of a body of men who would not be at all 
 
246 Camerton Slope. 
 
 scrupulous as to the methods employed-for the 
 embarrassment of the working party. It was 
 useless to hope that the miners and drivers now 
 at work would be suffered to go immolested. A 
 blow would be struck sooner or later; but whether 
 inside the mine, or outside, no one could tell. 
 Archie was as determined as any one else in his 
 opposition to the strike ; but he preferred to be 
 on his own familiar ground in this emergency, 
 and among his own tried friends. 
 
 His fellow-driver, Joe Cox, proved to be quite 
 companionable, and readily followed Archie's 
 suggestions. It was, of course, his duty to do 
 this, as Archie had been appointed turnkeeper 
 for that entry by Mr. Harris. 
 
 It was quite gratifying to the two drivers, 
 when they took their horses to the stable in the 
 evening, to realize that they had gotten through 
 the day without accident, and that they had not 
 been molested by evil-minded persons, who might 
 easily have lain in wait for them in the many 
 dark crannies and hiding-places which the entry 
 afforded. Their several trips that day served also 
 to make them somewhat familiar with the route, 
 so that they had less apprehension on this account 
 as they looked forward to the days to come. 
 
 There was no increase in the number of the 
 working party the next day, as some of them 
 had hoped and predicted. It seemed that the 
 
A Discovery in the West Entry. 247 
 
 causes which had operated to lead the strikers 
 to take the course tliey did at the beginning, 
 were n^t removed by the fact that a part of the 
 men in only one of the mines had seen fit to 
 go to work, while all the other mines were idle. 
 Tliose of the idle men who wanted to work were 
 still afraid to do so. 
 
 There were not enough men in the west 
 entry to keep the two drivers constantly busy; 
 and on the afternoon of the second day, while 
 waiting for his last trip of cars to be loaded — a 
 wait that promised to be a matter of an hour 
 or more — Archie concluded to spend a little 
 time in exploring the old, worked-out, aban- 
 doned section of the entry. It was the oldest 
 entry in the mine, and a great many of the 
 inner rooms had been driven to the boundary- 
 line of the company's property. The track had 
 then been taken up, and in some of these old 
 chambers the pillars had undergone "a squeeze;" 
 the props had rotted, and the roof had fallen 
 to such a height as to make it both difficult 
 and dangerous to pass through them over the 
 numerous falls. Archie had always delighted, 
 however, in rambling through such places. He 
 found himself wondering who had worked in 
 this room, who had driven that cross-cut, and 
 whether a certain large fall of roof, which had 
 evidently occurred in the time when the room 
 
248 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 was working, had injured or killed anybody; 
 and how many years it could have been since 
 all this region, where a death-like stillness now 
 reigned, had been alive with the sights and 
 sounds of bustling activity which distinguish 
 the working parts of a mine. 
 
 While busy with these thoughts, and wander- 
 ing about in an aimless sort of way, yet inter- 
 ested in all he saw, Archie had the misfortune 
 to drop his lamp, which he was carrying in his 
 hand. It went out instantly, leaving him in 
 total darkness. It may well be believed that 
 Archie was startled, as he suddenly recalled the 
 fact that he had no matches with him. He 
 had unthoughtedly taken off his jacket, with his 
 oil-flask in one pocket and his steel match-box 
 in the other, and left it behind when he started 
 on his ramble. 
 
 "I deserve all this — every bit of it," he said 
 to himself, with the emphasis of vexation and 
 dismay. "What a dumb trick it was, to come 
 into such a place as this without any matches!" 
 
 This reflection, however just in itself, was 
 not particularly reassuring, and in nowise cal- 
 culated to help him out of his dilemma; and it 
 was succeeded by a host of disagreeable visions 
 of what might possibly happen to him be!ore 
 he could find his way out of there. He had, of 
 course, a good general idea of the way he had 
 
A Discovery in the West Entry. 249 
 
 come, and would have no difficulty in returning; 
 if he could only get his lamp lighted; but to 
 undertake such a journey in the dark was quite 
 appalling. 
 
 The chief difficulty in finding one's way 
 about in abandoned workings is in the piles of 
 fallen roof that sometimes almost completely 
 barricade the way, leaving scarcely the smallest 
 crevice through which one might crawl. Then, 
 too, huge masses of loosened roof, just ready to 
 fall, and leaning only upon squeezed pillars and 
 rotten props, are easily started into action. 
 Sometimes — as in the case of an Alpine ava- 
 lanche — the jar of a footfall or the touch of a 
 hand will precipitate the catastrophe. Archie 
 knew all this very well. He was aware that, in 
 undertaking to "feel his way" back, he would 
 be most certain to wander into dangerous local- 
 ities, which he would not venture to pass 
 through even with a light; yet it was evident 
 that there was nothing else for him to do but 
 to make his way back, as best he could, by the 
 sense of feeling. 
 
 He dropped on his knees for a few moments, 
 and audibly prayed for God to help him. This 
 mishap in the old diggings brought very vividly 
 to his mind the experience of himself and fellow- 
 prisoners at the time of the flood. But then 
 the fearful situation was relieved in a measure by 
 
250 Camerton Slope. 
 
 human companionship; noiv he was all alone. 
 It was a great comfort to him to realize that 
 God could hear his cry for help, even in such a 
 place as that. God had heard him before in a 
 situation of even greater peril. Rising to his 
 feet again, he took time to recollect the course 
 he had followed in reaching the place where he 
 now was, and determined as far as possible to 
 retrace his steps over the same route. 
 
 This, however, w^as easier said than done ; 
 and he had not gone far until he was forced to 
 admit that he had missed the way. Where he 
 expected to find a cross-cut, he met a solid 
 wall. Great lumps of fallen roof, piled up on 
 one another, intercepted his progress where he 
 thought he ought to find a clear passage-way ; 
 and it seemed impossible to discover a tunnel 
 big enough for him to crawl through so as to 
 get over the top of the fall. He was compelled 
 to retrace his steps to the next cross-cut, and 
 feel his way down another room. Once he 
 tripped and fell heavily against a prop, which 
 gave way under the force of the blow. The 
 cap-piece fell on him, and a shower of broken 
 bits of roof rained all about him. He was but 
 slightly hurt, however, and was soon up and at 
 it again. After scrambling over a number of 
 falls, large and small, he seemed to reach a 
 locality where the timbers and roof were in 
 
A Discovery in the West Entry. 251 
 
 better condition ; and lie was able to keep 
 straight forward in the same room until he 
 reached the main entry. 
 
 He knew where he was now beyond any 
 question, and had only to follow the entry 
 straight out to the working, part of it. There 
 were no great obstacles in his path — here a pile 
 of dirt, an old cross-tie, or a broken rail ; there 
 a lump or two of roof-coal, or a puddle of water 
 occasioned by the stoppage of the ditch. It was 
 easy to tell by the sound of his footsteps when 
 he passed the mouth of a room on his right, or 
 a slant or cross-cut on his left. After passing 
 two of the old rooms, and just as he reached the 
 mouth of the third one, his attention was sud- 
 denly attracted by the faint glimmer of a Hglit 
 a long distance up the room. 
 
 Archie waited a moment to try to discover 
 whether the light was advancing toward him, or 
 going in the other direction. The distance was 
 still considerable to where he had left his coat 
 and matches, and it would be better to get his 
 lamp lit here if the person was coming his 
 way. But, so far as Archie could make out, the 
 light seemed to be motionless ; and he started 
 toward it, wondering who the person might be, 
 and what business could possibly be detaining 
 him in such a place as that just at the hour for 
 quitting work. He had not proceeded far up 
 
252 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 the room, however, before a feeling akin to fear 
 took possession of him — a kind of superstitious 
 dread — which checked his advance and half 
 decided him to turn back. It occurred to him 
 all at once that a stationary light in an old 
 abandoned part of the mine at so late an hour 
 was rather a difficult thing to explain. Then he 
 tried to laugh at his own fears, and said to him- 
 self that his recent adventure in those old work- 
 ings must have unstrung his nerves; and so he 
 determined to advance, but to do so as quietly as 
 possible, that he might discover who was there 
 be '"ore he himself should be detected. 
 
 So stealthily did he now creep along that his 
 footsteps were scarcely audible to himself A 
 few moments more, and he could make out the 
 figures of several men, who seemed to be sitting 
 in a circle on the ground, while one solitary 
 lamp hung upon a prop above their heads. 
 Even this one lamp was turned low, and gave a 
 very feeble light. 
 
THE SESSION OF THE INNER COUNCIL. 
 
 7\ NOTHER cautious step or two revealed 
 ^^-^ the fact that the men were not sitting but 
 kneeling, and that one of them was speaking in 
 a low tone, or rather, he seemed to be reading 
 something out of a little book. Archie found 
 himself almost petrified with amazement at the 
 scene before him. What could it mean? Who 
 were those men, and what were they doing? 
 He could now make out that the men were five 
 in number, but why were all the lights put out 
 except one — and that one suffered to burn only 
 in so dim and doubtful a manner? 
 
 Archie's first thought, as he took in the num- 
 ber of men and their kneeling posture, was that 
 he had stumbled upon a little prayer-meeting ; 
 such, a thing was not wholly unknown in the 
 Camerton mine. But this suggestion was quickly 
 dismissed, for in the next moment he was able to 
 
 253 
 
254 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 make out the face of the speaker, or reader, with 
 tolerable certainty. It was Pat McCoy ! Pat was 
 not known as a praying man, nor was there in the 
 group around him a single man who was accus- 
 tomed to attend any sort of a prayer-meeting. 
 It was not a prayer-meeting, that was certain ; 
 but what was it? 
 
 Determined to get near enough to find out 
 what was going on, and yet fearful that he 
 might stumble, and thus betray his presence, 
 Archie now got down on all fours, and, noise- 
 lessly as a cat, he crept as near to the group as 
 he could dare to venture without being discov- 
 ered. A belt of shadow cast by a prop, which 
 intercepted the rays of the lamp, enabled him 
 to find a hiding place nearer than he could other- 
 wise have gone, and he could now see and hear 
 all that took place. It was a weird scene — al- 
 most awe-inspiring — and Archie began to find 
 himself, in some degree, fascinated by it. His 
 sense of fear was almost wholly absorbed in an 
 intense curiosity to see what would take place 
 after this remarkable prelude. His thoughts 
 came fast, and produced the effect of deep con- 
 viction — he had by the merest accident stumbled 
 upon a nest of Mollie Maguires ! 
 
 It was evident that Pat McCoy was the head 
 (bodymaster) of the lodge. He was a man well 
 fitted for such a position. Shrewd and capable 
 
Session of the Inner Council. 255 
 
 above the average of liis fellow- workmen, a man 
 of convivial habits, and oftentimes in a state of 
 beastly intoxication, yet he had a reserve of 
 manner upon occasions that was in marked con- 
 trast with the garrulous frankness of most of his 
 countrymen. He had a power jof speech and a 
 power of silence not often united in the same 
 person. It was this latter characteristic, perhaps, 
 as uiucli as what he said on other occasions, that 
 gave him the reputation among his associates of 
 being "a deep man." There were times when 
 Pat McCoy would not talk. Even amid the up- 
 roar and varied excitements of Barney Dillon's 
 place, he would sit moody and abstracted, drink- 
 ing huge quantities of liquor, but refusing to 
 take part in any game, and answering his com- 
 panions only in monosyllables. He could be, and 
 sometimes was, " the life of the party ;" but his 
 ascendency was that of the oracle rather than 
 the wit or retailer of jokes. He was known 
 also to entertain advanced and radical notions 
 upon some subjects which are now embraced 
 under the head of '' sociological questions," and 
 frequently spoke with great bitterness, and some- 
 times with a fierce and wild eloquence, of an ap- 
 proaching change, a swift-coming day when coal 
 companies, land-owners, and bosses should take 
 their turn at labor and subordination ; they should, 
 
 in fact, be the slaves of the now working-class. 
 
 18 
 
256 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 One of the problems of the day before was 
 solved. It was clear to Archie, now, why Pat 
 McCoy and several of his fellow Mollies, were 
 found among the working party ; they were there 
 as spies, and also that they might avert suspi- 
 cion from themselves while plotting to make the 
 strike effectual. 
 
 Archie's heart beat fast ; indeed, he could 
 scarcely contain himself, as the fact dawned upon 
 him that he was now within the inner circle of 
 the Mollie Maguire organization — an miobserved 
 observer of their most secret deliberations! 
 What possibilities might not now be afforded 
 him of frustrating these evil-minded men, and 
 even bringing them to justice ! He knew all of 
 the men in that group, and recalled the fact that 
 every one of them was under suspicion as a 
 Mollie Maguire. 
 
 It was a startling revelation to Archie, that 
 such men should open their council of violence 
 and blood with a form of prayer. Later on, 
 however, it became known that this was their 
 invariable rule. Pat IMcCoy, as bodymaster, was 
 also priest of the lodge. 
 
 After the prayer was ended, the men changed 
 from a kneeling to a sitting posture, and the real 
 business promptly began. The council could not 
 last long without exciting suspicion by the ab- 
 sence of the men. Somebody must be made an 
 
SfCSS/ON OF THE INNER COUNCIL. 257 
 
 example of; somebody must suffer the vengeance 
 of the Brotherhood without farther delay ; some- 
 body must pay the penalty of ignorance or au- 
 dacity in defying the will of the Ancients, after 
 their purpose had been made known so fully and 
 emphatically. This was the deliverance of the 
 bodymaster in opening the business of the coun- 
 cil ; and to it all the party assented by an ex- 
 pressive nod of the head, though none of the 
 others spoke a word. -A few drops of blood 
 now, the bodymaster suggested, might prevent 
 the shedding of oceans of it later on. 
 
 The next question was as to the victims — 
 how many, and who should they be? Then the 
 other men began to take part in the discussion, 
 and the names of the superintendent and 
 mining-boss were at once suggested. It was 
 said to be needful, also, to put the mark of 
 their displeasure on the men — and Archie's 
 heart beat faster as he heard the names of his 
 father, Sandy Cameron, and James Shryock 
 mentioned. 
 
 ''Get them three out uv the way wance, an' 
 there '11 be no more sich triflin' wid us," re- 
 marked one of the men, who gave emphasis to 
 his words by several expressive nods of his head. 
 
 '*Five is too many to kill at wan an' tlie 
 same time," pronounced the bodymaster in his 
 most deliberate and decisive manner. 
 
258 Camerton Slope. 
 
 *'It's not all that's guilty," replied the 
 other. 
 
 "Ye 're right enough there," was the body- 
 master's answer; "but five men is neither the 
 wan thing nor the other. If we 're to make 
 away wid all that's guilty, five isn't enough; 
 but if we 're jist a-goin' to give all hands a cau- 
 tion, I 'm thinking that wan uv the bosses an' 
 wan uv the men is enough." 
 
 Mr. Harris had shown such determination in 
 opposing the strike that he was at once marked 
 as the victim to serve for a warning to the 
 management. It took a little longer time to 
 select the victim among the miners. Sandy 
 Cameron was well known as the principal 
 leader of the opposition to the strike, with 
 James Shryock and George Atkins for his chief 
 lieutenants; but several of the men were op- 
 posed to taking the life of Sandy Cameron. 
 
 "We'd better put a dozen o' the other fel- 
 lows out o' the way than touch Sandy," pleaded 
 one of the councilors; "it wouldn't make nigh 
 as big a disturbance." 
 
 The bodymaster listened to the various opin- 
 ions, and then said: 
 
 "I 'd be willing to take any wan o' the three, 
 especially George Atkins. I have a grudge 
 ag'in' him and his brat, and as sure as my 
 name 's Pat McCoy, I '11 be getting even wid 
 
Session of the Inner Council. 259 
 
 them wan uv these days; but it's my judg- 
 ment that Sandy Cameron is our man this 
 time. Ye '11 not put down this rebellion against 
 o^ir ancient order till ye put him down — mind 
 that!" 
 
 It was thus settled that Mr. Harris, the 
 mining-boss, and Sandy Cameron were to be 
 the first victims of the vengeance of the Mollie 
 Maguires in •Camerton. The bodymaster was 
 to call upon another lodge for a detail of men 
 to do the bloody deed; and this matter settled, 
 the session of the council was concluded with 
 formal ritual services, which consisted chiefly 
 of a solemn adjuration to each of the men, and 
 to which each in turn assented, with one hand 
 uplifted and the other upon his heart, while he 
 invoked upon himself the most direful curses 
 if he revealed to any human being — wife, child, 
 or friend — aught of what had occurred in the 
 council. 
 
 It was time now for Archie to think about 
 getting out of the way. It had occurred to 
 him that there would be a moment or two in 
 which the men would be occupied in lighting 
 their lamps, and that under cover of the slight 
 confusion and delay thus occasioned, he would 
 be able to put a safe distance between himself 
 and them. Nor did he miscalculate in this. 
 The lamps were lighted one at a time, and 
 
26o Camerton Slope. 
 
 each man departed by himself, and was well out 
 of sight before the next one lit his lamp. Each 
 man also took a route different from the 
 others — the first one going up the room and 
 turning outward through one of the upper 
 cross-cuts, the next man turning down toward 
 the entry in the direction that Archie was 
 going. 
 
 This compelled Archie to take- advantage of 
 the first cross-cut which he reached to turn 
 aside, and let the man pass him. This done, 
 he lost no time in making his way out to where 
 he had left his coat and matches. After light- 
 ing his lamp, he soon had his trip of cars made 
 up, and then started out the entry. He had 
 not gone far before he overtook two of the men 
 who had been in the council, and, slackenhig 
 his speed, he invited them to ride. This offer 
 was at once accepted, and they took their places 
 on the bumper of the rear car, while Archie 
 rode between the bumpers of the two forward 
 cars. He chatted pleasantly with them, as op- 
 portunity occurred, during the trip to the lye at 
 the bottom of the slope. 
 
 Little did they dream that he was in posses- 
 sion of their secret; and indeed, at times, it 
 seemed to him that he could scarcely believe it 
 himself. More than once he asked himself 
 whether he had not been in dreamland for the 
 
Session of the Inner Council. 261 
 
 last hour and a half. His mishap in losing his 
 light, and subsequent groping about in the 
 rooms and cross-cuts and over the falls of the 
 old workings; and his discovery of the five 
 men — who seemed rather like five specters kneel- 
 ing upon the ground — with all that they had said 
 and done, — seemed to him in the retrospect so 
 unnatural, so unreal, so very like the things he 
 had- read in fairy tales, that he could scarcely 
 credit his own senses. 
 
 He was a little late in getting out with his 
 trip, but not sufficiently so to make any expla- 
 nation necessary. To no one could this be a 
 matter of suspicion, unless to the five men of 
 the council, and they were themselves late, and 
 seemed to be gratified to find that they were 
 not the last persons to quit work and leave the 
 entry for the evening. 
 
 On reaching home, Archie found that his 
 father had gotten home early, and, after wash- 
 ing and changing his clothes, had gone out, ex- 
 pecting to be home in time for supper. Archie 
 and his mother delayed supper for a while, but 
 as he did not come, they sat down to the table 
 alone. Archie could not quite make up his 
 mind whether to tell his mother of the event 
 of the afternoon or not. He at last decided, 
 however, that the knowledge of what had oc- 
 curred would only fill her with alarm, and could 
 
262 Camerton Slope, 
 
 not ill any event do her any good ; bnt his father 
 nuist know it as soon as possible. 
 
 'It would be interesting, though, for his 
 mother to know something of his adventure in 
 the old workings; and he was just about to 
 begin his narration when the thought suddenly 
 occurred to him that he must not mention any- 
 thing about this part of the story either — his 
 mother might repeat it. What reason could he 
 give her for not doing so, without telling her 
 all the rest? If she mentioned the fact, even 
 to a neighbor, that Archie had been compelled 
 to find his way out of the old workings of the 
 west entry in the dark, the members of the 
 council would hear of it, and would know at 
 once that he must have been in their vicinity. 
 No, this part of the story — good a joke as it 
 was upon himself — must be suppressed also. 
 
 He entertained his mother with an account 
 of the more trivial happenings of the day; and 
 as soon as the meal was ended, started out in 
 search of his father. 
 
I^T^^ 
 
 THE YOUNG DETECTIVES. 
 
 IT is now time to make some mention of an 
 (, amatenr detective association, composed of 
 young miners and drivers, which had been 
 formed on the evening after the Big Meadow 
 conference. 
 
 The idea originated with Silas Coleman, and 
 was at once seized upon by the boys to whom 
 he suggested it. Silas was not now a driver, 
 but a regular miner in the south entry. He 
 had served as a driver in that entry for a longer 
 term than any of the present force of drivers ; 
 and, though he was no longer one of them, he 
 was still much in their company, and v/as 
 looked up to as a sort of past-master in the art 
 of underground driving. 
 
 It was as they were walking home from the 
 conference on the evening referred to, that Silas 
 opened the subject to his associates by saying — 
 
 263 
 
264 CAmerton Slope. 
 
 after looking sharply around to see who might 
 be within hearing distance : 
 
 '' Boys, times is goin' to be bilious here- 
 abouts ; an' if we do n't keep our eyes peeled, 
 some of us are a-goin' to get hurt." 
 
 ''That's a fact," replied vSam Smallwood; 
 " I was just thinkin' the same thing myself. I 
 don't want to be hurt," he added, "but I ain't 
 a-goin' to get down on my knees to these 
 Mollies. That much is settled with vie^ 
 
 "And so it is with mc P^ put in several 
 others, with more or less of emphasis. Then fol- 
 lowed a pause, every one seeming to be occupied 
 with his own thoughts. 
 
 " By the way you spoke a little while ago," 
 said Archie, turning to Silas, " I thought you 
 had something to tell us about the way to keep 
 from getting hurt." 
 
 " P'r'aps I '11 think o' some way an' let you 
 all know about it later." 
 
 This was said in a rather evasive manner, as 
 if he did not wish to pursue the subject any 
 further just then. They had now arrived at the 
 edge of Camerton ; and one and another went 
 his separate way, until Silas, Mac, and Archie 
 were all that remained of the party. 
 
 "After we get our suppers, boys," said Silas, 
 "let's meet on the hill back o' the company's 
 store an' talk about this thing." 
 
The Young Detectives. 265 
 
 "Agreed," was the ready response of the 
 other two. 
 
 '' Tell Sam Smallwood," continued Silas, "but 
 don't mention it to another soul." 
 
 The company's store was the principal store 
 in Camerton. It stood off to itself, on the mod- 
 erately sloping ground between the mouth of 
 the slope and the main street of the village. 
 The open space that surrounded it on all sides 
 had originally been reserved by the company 
 for its machine-shops and other buildings, which 
 were afterwards located elsewhere — much to 
 the gratification of the villagers, who by de- 
 grees began to utilize the inviting grounds in 
 the vicinity of the store as a sort of public 
 park. It was the nearest approach to a green 
 and shady resort of which Camerton could 
 boast. It had the merit of being central and 
 easy of access ; and on summer evenings the 
 scene was usually very animated, as scores of 
 people lolled upon the grass, pleasantly chatting, 
 or filling the air with snatches of song and 
 bursts of laughter. 
 
 The boys were not long in getting their sup- 
 pers and making their way to the favorite spot, 
 where already many a group of excited people 
 had gathered to discuss the events of the 
 afternoon. 
 
 " Silas, why could n't you say what you had 
 
266 Camerton Slope. 
 
 to say when I asked you about it on the way 
 houie?" inquired Archie, as the party of four 
 settled themselves in a clear space remote from 
 the crowd, where they might talk without being 
 overheard. 
 
 '' Because," replied Silas, " I did n't care for 
 Joe Pitzer and Tom Coggins, and them other 
 fellows to hear what I 've got to say." 
 
 '' Why, they 're all right," suggested Mac. 
 
 ''They 're well-meaniu' enough, of course," 
 answered Silas ; "but they ain't the stuff for de- 
 tectives — Tom Coggins especially; he talks too 
 much with his mouth." 
 
 " Who wants to make detectives out of 'em?" 
 inquired Sam Smallwood. 
 
 " Nobody that 's got any sense," retorted 
 Silas. "What I'm after," he continued, "is 
 for us four to tackle the job o' huntin' down 
 these Mollie Maguires, an' ferretin' out what 
 they 're up to." 
 
 " That 's a big job," said Archie, as he 
 looked into the faces of the rest. 
 
 " It 's a heap too big a job for us," sug- 
 gested Sam. 
 
 ''No, it isn't" persisted Silas; "we can do 
 it if we only think we can. 
 
 "I don't know anything about detective busi- 
 ness," said Archie, in a rather rueful tone. 
 
 "You don't, don't you?" replied Silas. 
 
The Young Detectives. 267 
 
 *' Wasn't it your eyes that ferreted out Tim 
 McCoy and his gang in the old church that 
 night when they smoked us out o' school? 
 An' when we was goin' to give up the search, 
 was n't it you that found the key in the door, 
 that proved as plain as the nose on yer face 
 that the scalawags was in there somewheres?" 
 
 " Now, gentlemen, go light there, please," 
 said Sam, moving uneasily, as this reference 
 brought all too vividly to his recollection the 
 regretful past. 
 
 " Sure enough, Sam," replied Silas, in a 
 softer tone. "I forgot that you used to train 
 with that crowd." 
 
 Sam Small wood's reformation had been so 
 thorough, and his identification with the better 
 class of boys was now so complete, that they 
 had ceased to regard him as a newcomer among 
 them. 
 
 " I guess it 's a good thing," continued Sam, 
 *' that Archie did see me that night. Before 
 then I used to think that the only smart boys 
 about these diggin's was the wild ones. I 
 did n't want to be called a good boy, and I 
 did n't know any way to be a smart one but to 
 be doin' something bad all the time. But 
 when we got found out that night, I was done. 
 I told Tim that playin' the fool was n't what it 
 was cracked up to be, and that the fellows that 
 
268 Camerton Slope. 
 
 caught lis in that trick was a heap^smarter than 
 we was." 
 
 'Well," said Silas, "I didn't mean to hurt 
 nobody's feelin's by what I said, of course. 
 We 've got no sort o' grudge against you, Sam ; 
 I only wanted to put Archie in mind that a 
 feller can see lots o' things, and hear lots o' 
 things, too, when he keeps his eyes and ears 
 open." 
 
 *' Seeing things, though, isn't all there is in 
 being a detective," replied Archie. '' I saw 
 Sam that- night at the window of the old 
 church; but it took more grit than I had to 
 climb up into that spire. If Silas thinks we 
 can all do what he can, he 's making a mistake." 
 
 "I'm not making any mistake about it," 
 was the answer. "There's lots o' business on 
 our hands here jest now. If w^e ain't a-goin' 
 to give up to these Mollies, we 've got 'em to 
 fight; an' I want to have a hand in stampin' 
 'em out!" 
 
 This was said in a tone of great earnestness, 
 and with a vehement gesticulation that provoked 
 a smile from the rest of the party. 
 
 "Silas," said Archie, in a tone of mock 
 gravity, "don't mix your figures of speech so. 
 If you're going to stamp anything out, take 
 your feet to it, and keep your hands for some- 
 thing else." 
 
The Youag Detectives. 269 
 
 This raised a langli, and then Silas said: 
 
 ^'Archie, that ain't fair. Yon fellows that 
 takes to learnin' like a dnck takes to water 
 oughtn't to be a-pokin' fun at a chap like me. 
 I never conld learn anything ont o' books, an' I 
 haven't got anything to go en but muscle. 
 Now with some o' you fellows to see things, an' 
 some o' the rest of us to do what we can, I 'm 
 sure we can give the Mollies some . trouble, an' 
 p'r'aps bag some of 'em." 
 
 "If it's muscle that's wanted, you may count 
 me in," said Mac; "for that's about all I've 
 got." 
 
 Mac was next in size to Silas — fully as tall, 
 but not quite, so stout. 
 
 "You fellows talk about having nothing to go 
 on but muscle," said Archie ; "but whose brains 
 have we got to depend on now for any plan of 
 real detective work? Come, Silas, speak out, 
 and let us know what you mean. Perhaps you 
 have n't got much ' book learning,' as you call 
 it, but everybody knows you 've got three full 
 gauges of mother-wit, and that 's often of more 
 account than book learning. Tell us what 
 we 're to do." 
 
 "Well," said Silas, "my plan is for us to 
 pick out some more fellows — I mean the kind o' 
 fellows we can trust — an' make ourselves into a 
 set o' detectives. We want to have enough of us 
 
270 Camerton Slope, 
 
 to watch every man that we think is a Mollie, so 
 as to know where he is all the time, an' what he 's 
 a-doin'. If he leaves Camerton, we must find 
 out where he 's gone an' what he 's gone for. 
 Then, we must find out where they meet. I 've 
 caught onto this already, that they do n't meet at 
 Barney Dillon's any more. I guess it was get- 
 tin' too hot for 'em there ; they could n't go 
 up-stairs any more without bein' noticed. But 
 I '11 bet they 're colloguing together some- 
 wheres." , 
 
 All the party now took hold of the project 
 with a good deal of enthusiasm. It seemed at 
 least possible that they might gather some items 
 of information that would be of service to the 
 men whom Sandy Cameron and his assistants 
 were trying to lead on to a successful resistance 
 of Mollie Maguire usurpation and tyranny. 
 
 The details of the plan could not all be per- 
 fected at this first meeting. They selected sev- 
 eral other young fellows who were to be ad- 
 mitted into their organization. These were to 
 be seen in the meantime, and brought to the 
 meeting the next evening ; for one of the things 
 already settled was, that they would meet every 
 evening to report what they had found out 
 during the day. 
 
 It will be noticed that this meeting w^as held 
 at the same time that Archie's father and James 
 
The Young Detectives. 271 
 
 Shryock were in consultation with Sandy Cam- 
 eron at the latter's house. The boys' meeting 
 lasted longer than that of the seniors ; or, rather, 
 after concluding their talk, the juniors, acting 
 upon a hint from Silas, dispersed themselves 
 among the crowd, keeping their ears open to 
 pick up any stray bit of information that might 
 serve as a clue. 
 
 When Archie reached home, he found his 
 father there, and asked him what he thought of 
 their plan. 
 
 " Well, I 've no doubt you younger chaps 
 can find out some things that we older ones 
 can't," was the reply. "But be careful, and 
 don't rush into danger. Remember, Archie, 
 that you '11 be suspected more than some of the 
 other boys will." 
 
 " I 've thought of that," replied Archie; " but 
 I shall be under suspicion anyhow, whether I 
 do anything or not." 
 
 After the success of the first day's attempt 
 to resume work, the boys were in high spirits 
 when they met that evening to complete their 
 plans. Archie's unexpected transfer to the west 
 entry was decided to be a good thing — " the best 
 thing that could 'a' happened," said Silas; "for 
 the worst nest o' Mollies about Camerton is 
 right in that west entry ; but," he added, " I '11 
 be blamed if I can tell what they mean by goin' 
 
 19 
 
272 Camerton Slope. 
 
 to work to-day. That thing puzzles me, and 
 Archie '11 have the job o' findin' out what they 're 
 up to." 
 
 " I 'm afraid," replied Archie, *' that finding 
 them out will be an uphill business ; but I '11 do 
 the best I can." 
 
 The other boys who had been invited to join 
 them were present, and entered into the project 
 with great spirit. When it came to selecting, 
 each one, his man to be shadowed, Silas startled 
 the group by saying: 
 
 "Boys, I've got a piece o' news for you. 
 That skunk, Tim McCoy, 's back again, and I '11 
 take him for my man." 
 
 " What !" cried several voices at once. " How 
 do you know he 's back ? Who told you ?" 
 
 '' Nobody told me ; I saw him myself." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Last night, after we left here. On my way 
 home I went by Pat McCoy's, just to see what I 
 could see ; an' I noticed that the window cur- 
 tains was drawed tight. Now that ain't common 
 in that house, an' I thought there might be some 
 sort of a circus a-goin' on inside. I knew they 
 had a load o' hay just put into their cow-stable 
 where I could hide, an' so I went in an' clomb 
 up into the loft, an' thought I 'd stay there, an' 
 see who come out o' the house. I was wrong 
 about there bein' a party o' Mollies there, fox 
 
The Young Detectives. 273 
 
 Pat was out himself. After a little lie came 
 home, an' just as I was gettin' down, feelin' a 
 bit disappointed, the back door opened again, 
 an' I could hardly believe my own eyes when 
 there stood Tim. He looked all around, an' then 
 sneaked out with his head ducked down, an' 
 came into the stable to attend to something 
 about the cow. He was near enough to me for 
 me to stick the pitchfork into him, an' I had half 
 a mind to do it." 
 
 "What do you suppose he came home for?" 
 asked one of the boys. 
 
 "Have n't any idea," answered Silas ; "but one 
 thing 's sure, he ain't here for any good, an' he '11 
 bear watchin'." 
 
FATHER RAFFERTY. 
 
 IT will now be seen that Archie had a double 
 reason for gratification over the fact that he 
 had stumbled upon the secret conclave of the 
 chief conspirators in the old workings of the 
 west entry. While conscious of the real value 
 of his discovery to the working party, he may 
 be pardoned also for feeling a little elated that, 
 as a detective, he would probably be able to 
 measure up even with his fellow-members of the 
 association. 
 
 He had received his appointment the night 
 before — ''to shadow" Pat McCoy, and several 
 others, in the west entry — with many misgiv- 
 ings. He was more afraid of Pat McCoy than 
 of any other man in Camerton. Having shared 
 to the full the common and exaggerated esti- 
 mate of Pat's great abilities, he now found him- 
 self almost superstitious in his dread of the man 
 274 
 
Father Rafferty. 275 
 
 who was strongly suspected of being the leading 
 spirit of the evil-minded Brotherhood in Camer- 
 ton. The most timorsome raw recruit in the 
 British army, on finding himself suddenly pitted 
 against "Old Bony" in military strategy, could 
 scarcely have been more dismayed than was 
 Archie at the task of " shadowing " and circum- 
 venting Pat McCoy ; and he made up his mind that 
 he could better serve the cause by shifting the bur- 
 den upon some one else. His plan was all ar- 
 ranged during the morning of that second day in 
 the west entry, — he would appeal to Mr. Harris to 
 be reinstated in his old position, and would sug- 
 gest that Silas Coleman be prevailed upon to 
 accommodate the situation by becoming, for the 
 present, the chief driver in the west entry. If 
 any young fellow in the Slope could penetrate 
 and foil Pat McCoy, Silas could. This, at least, 
 was Archie's conclusion. But before he had 
 time to carry out his plan the event of the after- 
 noon rendered its execution unnecessary. 
 
 As we have seen, Archie felt that it was his 
 duty to communicate his discovery to his father 
 and the other leaders of the opposition before he 
 reported it to his fellow-detectives, so that, if 
 deemed necessary, immediate action might be 
 had for the protection of the imperiled lives. 
 He traced his father that evening to the com- 
 pany's office, where a consultation was in prog- 
 
276 Camerton Slope. 
 
 ress between the managers and the leaders of the 
 working party. The door was locked, and 
 Archie was at first denied admittance. He then 
 asked to see his father and Sandy Cameron. 
 When the two came outside, he gave them, in a 
 few words, an outline of what he had witnessed 
 scarcely two hours before. Their amazement 
 was depicted in their countenances. 
 
 " Here, boy," said Sandy, interrupting the 
 statement, and catching Archie by the shoulder, 
 ''come inside. The rest o' them must hear this 
 at once." 
 
 The party in the inner office could see, from 
 Sandy's looks and his firm grip on Archie, that 
 an important communication was about to be 
 made, and expectancy sat on their faces. The 
 group was composed very nearly of the men 
 Archie expected to see there: Mr. Morgan, Mr. 
 Harris, half a dozen of the leading miners, and, 
 besides these, a personage whose presence there 
 surprised him very much — Father Rafferty. 
 
 The good priest was greatly grieved over 
 the recent outbreak of lawlessness in his par- 
 ish, and the letter sent him by Sandy Cameron 
 and the others had received his prompt atten- 
 tion. He had come at once to consult with the 
 leaders of the opposition to the MoUie Maguire 
 movement, and to see in what way he could best 
 assist them. 
 
Father Rafferty. 277 
 
 **Here, gentlemen," said Sandy, as he thrust 
 Archie into the midst of the group, "here is a 
 young man who has something to say that will 
 be worth the while o' listening to. Now, 
 Archie," he added, "tell them how ye came to 
 be in the old workings, and what ye saw and 
 heard there." 
 
 As may be imagined, Archie's statement was 
 listened to with wondering interest, which, not- 
 withstanding the fact that two of the party 
 present were marked for the vengeance of the 
 Mollies, gave place presently to confidence and 
 exultation. 
 
 "We've got them in our grasp!" said the 
 superintendent, excitedly, bringing his fist down 
 on his desk with a force that shook the 
 building. 
 
 "That's so! We'll clean 'em out now, 
 sure as a gun!" added one of the miners. 
 
 Archie's statement of what he had seen and 
 heard covered the ground pretty thoroughly; 
 but notwithstanding this, he was plied with 
 questions touching every possible feature of the 
 case. Father Rafferty in particular subjecting 
 him to a cross-examination, kindly in its man- 
 ner, but pointed and searching. He was satis- 
 fied at last, and very evidently gratified by the 
 clearness, promptness, and unvarying exactness 
 of the replies. 
 
278 Camerton Slope. 
 
 ''Now, gentlemen," said the priest, turning 
 from Archie to the others, "what use shall we 
 make of these surprising facts? What is the 
 best method of procedure?" 
 
 "I am not clear about that," replied the 
 superintendent, a look of perplexity succeed- 
 ing the recent exultant glow upon his features. 
 
 All the party were somewhat sobered by the 
 realization that they had now a problem to deal 
 with which required careful thought. 
 
 "The hour is late," remarked the priest, 
 glancing at his watch, "and you men that have 
 worked hard to-day should have your suppers. 
 Prompt action is necessary, undoubtedly; but 
 it should be well-considered action. A mistake 
 just here may be fatal. Can we not meet a 
 little later this evening, to decide upon our plan 
 of procedure? I confess that I am perplexed 
 as to the very first step to take, and should like 
 to have a little time for reflection." 
 
 Nine o'clock was mentioned as the hour for 
 reassembling in the company's office. Father 
 Raflferty declined Mr. Morgan's invitation to tea, 
 stating that he had an engagement a mile or 
 more from the village, and that it would keep 
 him busy to get back by the time appointed. 
 
 Just as the party was breaking up, Archie 
 said that he would like to ask a question. All 
 was silent in a moment. 
 
Father Rafferty. 279 
 
 *' Gentlemen, I belong to a kind of detective 
 association that we boys have formed among 
 onrselves, to find out all we can about the Mol- 
 lies. We are to meet every evening, to report 
 whatever we have found out during the day. 
 I wish to ask if you think it proper for me to 
 tell the boys to-night what I have discovered 
 this afternoon?" 
 
 '^Not a word, my son! — not a word to any 
 other human being!" said Father Rafferty, in 
 a very decided manner, laying his hand on 
 Archie's shoulder, and looking straight into 
 his face. 
 
 '^Not a word from any of the rest of us to 
 any human being, either," suggested Mr. Mor- 
 gan, with equal earnestness. 
 
 "'Mum' is the word!" said Mr. Harris, 
 glancing quickly at the men. 
 
 '"Mum' it is!" was the answer of them all. 
 
 While his father and the others were orone 
 to get their suppers, Archie turned slowly to- 
 ward the place where he was to meet his fel- 
 low-detectives. He was asking himself what 
 report he could make, since he must be " mum " 
 about the only event of the day. 
 
 "Hello, Arch! Are you spinnin' yer yarn 
 as you go along?'' inquired Silas, who at that 
 moment joined him, and noticed his ab- 
 stracted air. 
 
28o Came ETON Slope. 
 
 '*I was wondering what a pdor stick of a 
 detective, with no report to make, ought to say 
 in a crowd of fellows who have been doing some- 
 thing," replied Archie. 
 
 ''Now, Arch, that's all put on! Tell us 
 what you was doin' in the office with them big- 
 bugs. That '11 be report enough for one even- 
 ing," and Silas looked sharply into Archie's face. 
 
 "I went there to find my father, because he 
 was n't home to supper.. I guess they've been 
 holding some sort of a confab." 
 
 "Was Father Rafferty in the powwow with 
 the rest o' them?" asked Silas. 
 
 "I suppose so. He came out of the inside 
 office with the others," replied Archie. 
 
 As nothing of special interest was contained 
 in any of the reports, the business meeting of 
 the detectives was concluded in short ord^r. It 
 was felt to be important that they betake them- 
 selves at once to their several stations, to keep 
 an eye on the suspected parties, and find out 
 whether they would " collogue together any- 
 where" that night, as Silas put it. He also 
 stated that he wanted assistance in watching 
 Pat McCoy's house till midnight. He would 
 take the last two hours himself, if one or two 
 of the others would take the intervening time. 
 Pete Pritchard and Barney Smalls, two of the 
 new recruits in the detective service, volunteered 
 
Father Raffertv. 281 
 
 for this duty, and at once, by direction of Silas, 
 started for the hiding-place in the hayloft of 
 the cow-stable. 
 
 Nine o'clock found all the parties who had 
 been present earlier in the evening, assembled 
 once more in the company's office, including 
 Archie, who had been invited to be present. It 
 then appeared that, with the exception of 
 Father RafFerty, no one had thought of any 
 method of procedure, other than to announce 
 what had been discovered to the officers of the 
 law, and have the authors of the murderous 
 plot proceeded against by regular process. 
 
 "Law methods," remarked Father Rafferty, 
 *' are necessarily slow and tedious ; and in this 
 case there is danger that they may fail to ac- 
 complish our object, which should be not merely 
 the punishment of a few offenders, but the 
 arousing of the whole community, so as to make 
 it impossible for such an evil association to live 
 and flourish among us. Further than this, have 
 you pondered the fact, gentlemen, that we en- 
 counter a difficulty the moment we enter a 
 court of justice, and seek to convict men of a 
 terrible crime upon the testimony of one witness, 
 and he a stripling? Having the fullest con- 
 fidence in this youth ourselves, is it certain that 
 we can induce a court and jury to share that 
 confidence so as to accept his sole testimony as 
 
282 Camerton Slope. 
 
 proof conclusive of the guilt of those men ? 
 Is there not a surer and at the same time a 
 swifter way to accomplish our object? Is there 
 not a method by which we can use our knowl- 
 edge of this diabolical plot so as at once to 
 startle and arouse the public mind to effective 
 action?" 
 
 ''If you can suggest a method, Father Raf- 
 ferty, by which this discovery can be utilized 
 with the greatest possible effect, we shall be 
 glad to learn of it," said the superintendent. 
 
 " My thought is," continued the priest, " that 
 the knowledge of this plot coming to the com- 
 munity in the usual way, passing from mouth 
 to mouth by, degrees, could not possibly have 
 the same effect as if communicated to all alike 
 in a great gathering, at the same instant, and by 
 the same person. I will answer for the con- 
 science and the public spirit of these several com- 
 munities so far as to say that the knowledge of 
 this foul plot, if we do not blunder in the 
 method of communicating it, "will be sufficient 
 to arouse a whirlwind of popular indignation 
 that will sweep away Mollie Maguirism root 
 and branch!" 
 
 " I believe you are right," replied Mr. INIorgan. 
 
 *'Your idea, Father Rafferty, if I understand 
 it," said Sandy Cameron, "is to bring this thing 
 before the men of the other mines as well." 
 
Father Rafferty, 283 
 
 ** All the men," replied the priest, *' who 
 have been accustomed to meet in conference at 
 the big meadow — let them be summoned for a 
 meeting to-morrow, and take every care to have 
 them all present. Let Archie, then and there, 
 make the same statement that he has made to 
 us, and leave the rest to me." 
 
 " That 's the thing exactly !" said Sandy. '' I 
 agree, to that." 
 
 ^' So do I ; so do I!" echoed around the room. 
 
 ** It 's a happy thought, and I am sure we 
 are greatly indebted to Father Rafferty for sug- 
 gesting it," said Mr. Harris. 
 
 ''No indebtedness to me, I assure you," re- 
 turned the priest, as he bade the, party good- 
 night. "I am the rather under obligation to 
 the rest of you for your hearty consent and co- 
 operation." 
 
 It only remained to write the notices, and ar- 
 range to have them posted early the next morn- 
 ing. To make it certain that there should be 
 no failure in this part of the program, several of 
 the miners present agreed to post up the notices 
 themselves in the several mining villages. 
 
ANOTHER AFTERNOON AT THE BIG MEADOW. 
 
 A CONFERENCE! a conference! There 
 (, was an almost electric power in this word, 
 as it passed from mouth to mouth the next 
 morning, when the troops of idle men and boys 
 began to congregate around the written notices 
 which invited the miners to a conference that 
 afternoon. They were glad to receive the 
 summons. 
 
 Such a call had its charms even in peaceful 
 and quiet times. It always meant something 
 new, and half the time nobody seemed to know 
 just what, until the conference was regularly 
 organized and the business presented in a for- 
 mal manner. In busy seasons a conference 
 meant a break in the monotony and humdrum 
 of every-day life; it meant at least half a day's 
 outing, and possibly something of still greater 
 importance to the miners — it might be some 
 284 
 
At the Big Meadow. 285 
 
 new proposition, which promised to better their 
 condition and make life easier for them. 
 
 In the present troubled period, the call was 
 unusually welcome, coming as it did from the 
 working party in the Camerton Slope. The 
 idlers were already growing "restless and dissat- 
 isfied, especially those of them who really 
 w^anted to be at work, but had been afraid to 
 make the venture. They felt ashamed of their 
 own cowardice. It would have been nobler, 
 they now felt, to have taken the same position 
 as the Camerton men, and risk the conse- 
 quences. Besides this, the w^orking party had 
 not been molested. Why should not others go 
 to work also ? 
 
 The leaders of the strike were surprised at 
 the call, but at once began to exult over it. 
 They understood it to mean that the working 
 party had wearied of their experiment, or were 
 afraid to hold out longer against the majority, 
 and now meant to announce their acquiescence 
 in the strike. 
 
 The day was one of the most inviting that 
 ever dawned upon the mountain country of 
 Pennsylvania. October was well advanced, but 
 latterly the weather had been almost as warm 
 as in midsummer. The autumn tints had richly 
 decorated the woods, and the soft, hazy balm of 
 Indian summer was in the atmosphere.. All 
 
 20 
 
286 Camerton Slope. 
 
 nature seemed to be luxuriating in its batli of 
 delicious sunlight, as the army of miners, con- 
 stantly swelling in numbers, pressed on in vari- 
 ous columns toward the place of rendezvous. 
 Two o'clock had been named as the time for 
 the meeting, but the proceedings did not begin 
 till nearly an hour later. It was the policy of 
 the Camerton leaders to delay until the miners — 
 laggards and all — were on hand. One reason 
 for this was, that every mine might be as fully 
 represented as possible; but the principal ground 
 for delay was, that the proceedings, once com- 
 menced, might not be interrupted by the pecul- 
 iar salutations sometimes accorded to late- 
 comers. 
 
 Whatever might be the occasion of a confer- 
 ence, or whatever clashing of opinions might 
 disturb its later progress, the men — both young 
 and old — were usually in hilarious mood at the 
 opening, and could not at once settle down to 
 serious business. While some spent the wait- 
 ing interval in smoking their pipes, greeting 
 their friends, and exchanging the news of the 
 various localities, others, and particularly the 
 younger element, amused themselves with such 
 games as opportunity afforded ; such as pitch- 
 ing quoits — using stones for quoits — jumping, 
 wrestling, and running. But all these various 
 groups would at once turn from their employ- 
 
A 7^ THE Big Meadow. 287 
 
 ments to join in cheering or chaffing a squad of 
 late arrivals, and the present occasion proved to 
 be no exception to the rule. 
 
 "Hist, boys!" cried one, of a noisy party, 
 "there comes the Corkonians!" 
 
 " It 's wrong ye are," replied another ; " them ^s 
 the 'Far-downs' — the regular 'bog-trotters.'" 
 
 "Well, never mind; let's give them the 
 salute o' honor, anyway." 
 
 And a chorus of dismal and prolonged 
 groans, from a himdred throats, announced the 
 arrival of the men from one of the small, out- 
 lying mines. 
 
 "Ye followed some wagon, and got led asthray 
 intirely, did. ye?" cried a voice, as soon as any 
 one could be heard. 
 
 "That be n't it at all," shouted a short, thick- 
 set, comical-looking Englishman, dressed in a 
 smock, after the fashion of his native country; 
 "them be the 'lost tribes o' Israel,' just a-comin' 
 'ome again." 
 
 Scarcely had this sally subsided, when the 
 attention of the crowd was attracted toward an- 
 other quarter: 
 
 "Germany! Germany!" shouted a voice; 
 "Germany's a-gettin' here with both feet! 
 Hurrah for Germany! hip, hip, hurrah!" 
 
 This was really a rousing cheer, given with 
 a will, and accompanied with the swinging of 
 
288 Camerton Slope. 
 
 hats, and other boisterous demonstrations of 
 welcome. Yet it could scarcely be said that 
 the Germans were particular favorites. They 
 were as liable, at any other time, to be greeted 
 with groans — as the "Far-downs" had been — 
 according as the capricious, ever-changing mood 
 of the crowd might suggest. 
 
 These Germans were a kind of colony to 
 themselves. They were the principal working- 
 force of one of the mines which, together with 
 the village in which they lived, was known in 
 all the mining region as "Germany." Quite a 
 number of them could speak but very little En- 
 glish, and their habits and general mode of life 
 were such as they had followed in their own 
 land. 
 
 With the arrival of the Germans, all the 
 mines were pretty fully represented; and now, 
 in accordance with the usual custom, the men 
 representing the mine which had summoned 
 the conference, proceeded to call the meeting 
 to order, and organize it by nominating the 
 officers. It was Sandy Cameron who thus 
 opened the proceedings on behalf of the Cam- 
 erton working party, and the men suggested by 
 him were at once chosen, by a unanimous vote, 
 as the officers of the meeting. This done, Sandy 
 stepped down from the platform, and took his 
 place among the men. The president acknowl- 
 
At the Big Meadow. 289 
 
 edged the honor of his selection for that posi- 
 tion in a few sensible words, and then stated 
 that he had no knowledge whatever of the ob- 
 ject for which the meeting was called, and he 
 requested that some one should now bring for- 
 ward the business. 
 
 At this point, Father Rafferty rose up from 
 the place where he had been sitting among the 
 Camerton men, and, to the great surprise of 
 most persons present, mounted the stand. It 
 was not usual for anybody but the miners them- 
 selves to take part in these conferences; and 
 the curiosity which had been awakened by 
 Father Raflferty's presence on the ground grew 
 more lively as it became evident that he was 
 about to make some statement, perhaps on be- 
 half of the working party. 
 
 *' Gentlemen," began the priest, in his 
 kindly, persuasive, yet far-reaching and im- 
 pressive tones, '•^ I am not here to take any 
 part in those matters which are usually the 
 subjects of conferences in this place. Many of 
 you know me well enough to bear witness that, 
 while I have been keenly interested in your 
 welfare, I have never been disposed to meddle 
 with those questions which you, as miners, have 
 a right to settle among yourselves, and for your- 
 selves. I am here to-day, not to make a speech 
 to you myself, but simply to introduce a gentle- 
 
290 Camerton Slope. 
 
 man who has a message for you-^a brief mes- 
 sage, but one of the very greatest importance. 
 I need scarcely ask you to hear him with the 
 closest attention. Before mentioning his name, 
 however, 1 may add that this conference has 
 been called at my suggestion, because I desire 
 to consult with you upon the subject of this 
 gentleman's communication. It is, as I have 
 said, a very important matter — a matter that 
 concerns human life." Here the priest stopped; 
 but the strained attention and breathless silence 
 of the men seemed to insist that he go on. 
 
 '' It is within the knowledge of most of you," 
 he added, " that certain misguided men have 
 seen fit to attempt to introduce into this region 
 a diabolical fraternity known as the MoLLiE 
 Maguires. That Brotherhood is setting out 
 on the same course of lawless violence and 
 bloodshed here which has marked its pathway 
 elsewhere; and the proof of this is, that two 
 men of your number, honest and honorable 
 men — one of whom is present with you to-day — 
 have been marked for assassination and death 
 at the hands of this murderous conspiracy — " 
 
 At this point the words of the priest becaUie 
 indistinguishable. The men, who had been lis- 
 tening with an eager interest that grew more and 
 more intense as the slow and measured sentences 
 of the speaker fell upon their ears, could restrain 
 
At the Big Meadow. 291 
 
 lliemselves no longer. As by one impulse, 
 those who had been sitting or lolling upon the 
 grass, rose to their feet, and looked with a 
 meaning glance into each other's faces, while a 
 murmur of astonishment and indignation ran 
 through the entire crowd. .This first burst of 
 excited feeling was quickly over, and the men 
 were quiet again, and bending eagerly forward 
 to hear more. 
 
 ''Ay!" continued Father Rafiferty, "I don't 
 wonder that you look with horror into one 
 another's faces to see who it is that 's doomed 
 to die like a dog, or who it is that 's guilty of 
 the blood of a fellow-workman — " 
 
 "The names! the names!" shouted a voice. 
 " Give us the names of the men that are 
 marked for death." 
 
 "Listen !" cried the priest, motioning with his 
 hand for silence, as scores of voices continued to 
 echo the demand for the names. "Ivisten, and 
 you shall have them." 
 
 Again the vast crowd subsided into perfect 
 stillness, in the midst of which Father RafFerty 
 said : 
 
 " The names of the men who have been 
 marked for death at the hands of the Mollie Ma- 
 guires are Frank Harris, the mining boss of the 
 Camerton Slope, and Sandy Cameron, the vet- 
 eran miner of the same mine." 
 
292 Ca merton Sl ope. 
 
 A howl of horror and rage broke from the 
 crowd, and a hundred men pressed their way 
 toward the stand, and formed a body-guard 
 around the group of Camerton men in which 
 Sandy Cameron was sitting. Mr. Harris was 
 not present. 
 
 '' Who 's going to kill him ? Who 's going 
 to touch a hair o' Sandy Cameron's head?" 
 cried a big man, in a voice of thunder, as he 
 leaped upon the stand, and shook his great fist 
 in a way that was dangerous for everybody 
 round about him. 
 
 Father Raflferty's effort at arousing "a whirl- 
 wind" had succeeded beyond his expectations; 
 and he nOw found it necessary to exert himself 
 to the utmost to restore order, so that he might 
 complete the program he had marked out. It 
 was no easy task to quiet several hundred men 
 who were already angrily vociferating the names 
 of the various miners who were suspected of be- 
 longing to the Brotherhood. As soon as Father 
 Rafferty could make himself heard again, he 
 said : 
 
 " Gentlemen, these are grave charges, and I 
 do not ask you to accept what I have said with- 
 out the proof; and so I will at once introduce 
 the person who, as I told you awhile ago, has 
 an important message for you. Archie Atkins," 
 
At the Big Meadow. 293 
 
 cried the priest, elevating his voice, " come to 
 the stand, and tell these men what you know 
 of the secret plottings of the Mollie Maguires 
 against the lives of Frank Harris and Sandy 
 Cameron." 
 
ei^apter^ ^X^. 
 
 THE RESULT OF THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 IT was afterwards remarked that Archie's pre- 
 vious hfe must have been a providential 
 course of training for this occasion. Without 
 his hard experience as one of the group im- 
 prisoned by the flood in the south entry, he 
 would not have been nearly so well known to 
 the miners present, and the mention of his 
 name could not possibly have aroused the same 
 degree of interest. Without his persistent efforts 
 at self"- improvement, and in particular his prac- 
 tice in the art of public speaking acquired in 
 the Camerton Literary and Debating Society, 
 he could not have made the clear, concise, 
 and really convincing statement which he did 
 that day. 
 
 In the most natural manner possible, he told 
 of his unexpected assignment to duty in the 
 west entry, and of his desire to explore the 
 294 
 
Result of the Conference. 295 
 
 worked-out part of it ; how the dropping of his 
 lamp, and his neglect to carry his matches with 
 him, compelled him to grope his way out 
 in the dark ; of his gratification when at length 
 he discovered a solitary light in the distance, 
 followed by a sense of mystery when it became 
 evident that the light was stationary ; his amaze- 
 ment when he ascertained that, instead of one 
 man, there was a group of five, and that they 
 were on their knees in the attitude of prayer. 
 All that had subsequently taken place in that 
 meeting of the inner council was then related, 
 until at last the whole scene was before the con- 
 ference, including the names of the conspirators 
 (which had been loudly called for before the 
 statement was concluded). 
 
 At the mention of the names another out- 
 burst of indignant, murmurs arose from the 
 crowd, accompanied with cries of — 
 
 " Lynch ! Lynch !" 
 
 " Hang them !" 
 
 ** String them up, every mother's son o' 
 them !'' 
 
 And for a time it seemed that Pat McCoy 
 and his fellow-counselors could not escape the 
 summary vengeance of the thoroughly excited 
 crowd. Again Father Rafferty loudly rapped 
 with his cane for order. 
 
 ** Would it not be well, gentlemen," he in- 
 
296 Camerton Slope. 
 
 quired, '' to ask this young man some questions? 
 His statement, if true, discloses a terrible condi- 
 tion of things in this mining region, and some- 
 thing must be done about it. But," he asked, 
 with startling energy of manner, ''is this re- 
 markable statement true ?" 
 
 *'Ay! Ay!" 
 
 *' Of course it is !" 
 
 ''Not a man on this ground doubts it!" 
 These and a storm of similar responses from 
 every quarter of the assembly told the deep 
 conviction of the men that they had it now in 
 their power to bring to bay the chief plotters 
 against the peace of the community, and many 
 of them were not disposed to be content with 
 half-way measures. The air was thick with 
 curses and imprecations upon the heads of the 
 would-be murderers, who sat at no great dis- 
 tance from each other, utterly overwhelmed by 
 this unlooked-for exposure of their plot, and 
 answering only with wild and general denials. 
 
 Owing to the confusion that now obtained, it 
 seemed impossible to settle anything in the open 
 meeting, and at the suggestion of Father Raf- 
 ferty, a committee of two from each mine was 
 appointed, with instructions to retire and delib- 
 erate upon the matter, and suggest to the body 
 what course of action should be pursued. 
 
 The committee deliberated long. Scarcely 
 
Result of the Conference. 297 
 
 a man of them was willing to commit the mat- 
 ter to the slow and doubtful processes of the 
 law. They were familiar with the miscarriages of 
 justice in other coal-fields of the State, where the 
 courts seemed powerless to circumvent the secret 
 plottings of the Brotherhood, and to punish the 
 perpetrators of the numerous cold-blooded mur- 
 ders continually occurring. The majority were 
 for prompt and vigorous measures. 
 
 " It 's a dreadful thing to do," said one of 
 the men; "but I'm thinking that not to do it will 
 be a heap more dreadful. There 's no way out of 
 it ; we must hang these murderers to one of 
 these trees before we go home." 
 
 " That 's right," replied another ; *' we shall 
 be as guilty as they are, if we let them slip 
 through our fingers now." 
 
 "It's out o' the question," said a third, " to 
 talk of doing anything else. If we spare their 
 lives, some o' ours will have to pay the forfeit." 
 
 " I don't want to shed blood," remarked an- 
 other member of the committee ; " but since it's 
 come to be a question of their blood, or the blood 
 of a good many better men than they ever 
 thought of being, I '11 hang them myself before 
 I'll let them go on to take the lives of Sandy 
 Cameron and Frank Harris, and nobody knows 
 how many more." 
 
 While these deliberations were going forward 
 
298 Camerton Slope. 
 
 in the committee, the principal body of the 
 miners were keeping guard over the conspira- 
 tors, alternately showering reproaches upon 
 them, and then exhorting them to prepare for 
 death. Others, not doubting what the issue 
 would be, were looking about for suitable trees 
 to serve the purpose of a gallows. 
 
 The Camerton members of the committee — 
 James Shryock and George Atkins — would not 
 agree to take the lives of the five men, and 
 entered a very decided protest against such a 
 step. It would not be right to do so, they argued. 
 No murder had actually been committed, and 
 society was not justified in hanging men for 
 simply uttering threats against others. It had 
 the right to protect itself against the carrying 
 out of those threats, and in some way to punish 
 the offenders, but not by hanging them. To 
 take their lives would be impolitic as well as 
 wrong — it would react against the miners gener- 
 ally, and give occasion for a perfect epidemic of 
 MoUie Maguire outrages by way of revenge. 
 Besides this, the law would be compelled to 
 take account of and punish — perhaps even with 
 death itself — the perpetrators of such a crime. 
 
 This view of the case, urged with great 
 earnestness by the Camerton men, was not 
 without its effect upon the others.. It prepared 
 them to listen more favorably to a proposition 
 
Result of the Conference. 299 
 
 which had originated with Father Rafferty to 
 the effect that the committee recommend a 
 sentence of banishment, rather than of death, 
 against the guilty parties. 
 
 This suggestion was received at first in 
 silence, and with many a dubious shake of the 
 head. But presently the men thought better of 
 it. It relieved them of a dreadful responsi- 
 bility, while at the same time it promised to be 
 just as effectual as more extreme measures in 
 uprooting Mollie Maguirism. The committee 
 was soon ready to report. 
 
 Amid a breathless silence, Michael Hutchin- 
 son, a representative of the Hawksville mine, 
 and the oldest member of the committee, who 
 was appointed to make the report, ascended the 
 platform. He began by reciting what had taken 
 place in the committee — that the first feeling of 
 the members was that such bloody plottings de- 
 served to be visited with death ; but there were 
 weighty reasons why the mining community 
 should not stain its hands with the blood of 
 men who were not as yet actually guilty of 
 bloodshed. These reasons were mentioned in 
 well-considered words, and then followed the 
 announcement of the committee's recommenda- 
 tion : That the five gtdlty men be banished^ on 
 pain of death ^ finally and forever^ from the coal- 
 fields of the State of Pennsylvania ; and that a 
 
300 Came ETON Slope. 
 
 vigilance committee, consisting of representa- 
 tives from the several mines, be appointed to see 
 that this sentence was carried out, and to take 
 whatever steps might be necessary to protect 
 the mining-region from any further plottings of 
 the MoUie Maguires. 
 
 This report was instantly challenged ; and a 
 fierce discussion followed. The chairman found 
 it impossible for some time to preserve even 
 the semblance of order, a score of men being 
 on their feet at the same time, each vociferating 
 his protest in his own way; and such was the 
 jargon of voices that nobody could distinguish 
 anything that was being said. At this junc- 
 ture, the chairman — who had been selected for 
 a possibly stormy session — surprised even those 
 who knew him best, by his vigorous measures. 
 Seizing a short and narrow piece of plank, he 
 plied it with such force upon the rude, resound- 
 ing desk in front of him as to completely drown 
 the babel of voices ; and the noisy declaimers, 
 overmatched at their own game, gave up the 
 contest, and sank down again upon the ground 
 in silence. 
 
 "Gentlemen," cried the chairman, intermit- 
 ting his raps with the board, *' you elected me 
 to preside over a conference, and then you do 
 your best to turn the conference into a mob ! 
 I won't preside over a mob, and such scenes of 
 
Result of the Conference. 301 
 
 disorder must not be repeated. It 's a matter of 
 life and death that we 're trying to settle, and 
 you must keep order!" 
 
 After this tempest had spent itself, there was 
 no further interruption to the orderly progress 
 of the meeting, though the discussion was very 
 earnest. The main points urged against the 
 committee's report were: That it was needful to 
 strike terror to the heart of the evil organization 
 by executing at one stroke the men who had 
 dared to introduce it into that region. This 
 was only a matter of simple justice, and 
 hanging was too good for such wretches. There 
 was no power in this conference to make a 
 decree of banishment effectual; and to pro- 
 nounce such a sentence was really to turn the 
 murderers loose, and let them go unwhipped of 
 justice. And besides this, what protection did 
 such a course promise to the two men whose 
 lives it was the solemn duty of the community 
 to protect from the Mollie Maguire vengeance? 
 
 The last speaker was Sandy Cameron. He 
 said that, as one of the two men whose lives 
 had been threatened, he would beg of the con- 
 ference not to commit the blunder of taking 
 away the lives of the five men whose crime had 
 been brought to light so unexpectedly. Did 
 any sane man believe that putting these men to 
 death would end the trouble? Who could sup- 
 
 21 
 
302 Camerton Slope. 
 
 pose for a moment that the far-reaching Brother- 
 hood to which they belonged would take no ac- 
 count of such an execution ? Was it not more 
 likely that the death of these men would be re- 
 venged fivefold? He entreated them not to 
 enter upon a course which must result in con- 
 verting all this mining region into a slaughter- 
 pen. The best course to pursue was to dis- 
 courage the establishment of the evil-minded 
 Brotherhood in their midst by making it certain 
 that every man who listened to their wicked 
 counsels would be detected and exposed, and 
 would forfeit his place in the community. 
 
 The vote was then taken upon the adoption 
 of the committee*'s recommendation, and it was 
 carried by a decided majority. The five men 
 were then conducted to the front of the stand, 
 and asked if they would, upon the condition that 
 their lives were spared, take a solemn obliga- 
 tion to quit the neighborhood at once, sever 
 their connection with the Mollie Maguire organ- 
 ization, and engage in no more conspiracies 
 against human life. To this they all promptly 
 agreed, and the chairman then administered the 
 obligation in a most impressive manner, each 
 of the five assenting to its provisions with up- 
 lifted hand, while all the rest of the conference 
 stood with bared heads as silent witnesses of 
 their obligation. After the vigilance commit- 
 
Result of the Conference. 303 
 
 tee had been appointed and the strike declared 
 "off," the conference adjourned. 
 
 The afternoon had waned. One of the most 
 perfect of days was succeeded by one of the 
 most inviting of evenings. Banks of cloud, 
 still crimson from the sun's, last rays, appeared 
 to rest upon the mountain which separated 
 many of the men from their homes, and to cross 
 that mountain would not be easy work in the 
 darkness, yet they seemed to be in no hurry 
 about setting out. No such conference had 
 ever been held in that place before; none had 
 ever been called to pass upon such serious 
 issues. 
 
 The men could not help contrasting this 
 meeting with the one that had preceded it. It 
 seemed scarcely credible that within the short 
 space of four days two conferences, so opposite 
 in tone and temper, could have been held by 
 the same set of men. It was remarked that at 
 the former meeting the Camerton men could 
 not, by their utmost endeavors, succeed in 
 bracing up the terror-stricken crowd to join 
 them in pi;esenting a bold front to the Mollie 
 Maguire Brotherhood; while to-day, but for the 
 powerful opposition of the Camerton leaders, 
 the aroused feeling of the conference would by 
 this time have hanged all the known mem- 
 ber§ of the hated order to the neighboring 
 
3^4 The Strike. 
 
 trees. The mood of the men had^changed. It 
 was more self-reliant and self-respecting; and 
 they lingered, it seemed, simply to exchange 
 mutual congratulations. 
 
 The real breaking up did not take place 
 until the vigilance committee, after completing 
 their arrangements, began the homeward march 
 with the "prisoners" under their charge. 
 
FURTHER DEVELOPMENTS. 
 
 7\. RCHIE was puzzled, during the latter part 
 -^^ of the afternoon, to account for the ab- 
 sence of Silas and Mac. The rest of the boys 
 were there, very interested spectators of what 
 was going on, and as much taken aback as any- 
 body else when Archie was introduced and be- 
 gan to make a report of his detective work — 
 a report which was no more surprising to the 
 crowd of miners than it was to his fellow-de- 
 tectives. They thought he might at least have 
 given them an inkling of the part he was to 
 take in the day's proceedings, but were satis- 
 fied when he told them of the injunction to 
 strict secrecy which he had received from Father 
 RafFerty and the others at the meeting in the 
 company's office. 
 
 "But say, Archie," asked Sam Smallwood, 
 "where 's Mac and Silas?" 
 
 305 
 
3o6 Camerton Slope. 
 
 "I don't know. Are n't they here?" 
 
 '' No, they 're not. We 've looked every wheres 
 for 'em, and they 're not about. Say, now. 
 Arch," continued Sam, lo(3king curiously into 
 Archie's face, "honor bright, an' no foolin' — 
 don't you know where they are?" 
 
 "I give you my word of honor," replied 
 Archie, in the most positive tone, "that I don't 
 know any more about where they are than you 
 do. I thought they were here, and I can't im- 
 agine what 's kept them away." 
 
 "Well, all right then," said Sam. "We 
 did n't know but there might be some more 
 underground work on foot, and, if you was n't 
 tied up too close by the big-bugs, we wanted to 
 find out what it was." 
 
 The fact that Archie was not aware of the 
 absence of Silas and Mac is easily accounted 
 for. Like many another youthful orator called 
 upon to make important statements before a 
 large audience, he found himself considerably 
 ao^itated as the time drew near. He shunned 
 the company even of his particular friends as 
 much as possible, and went the greater part of 
 the way to the big meadow alone, through the 
 woods and bypaths, so that he might have an 
 opportunity to "rehearse" his part, and get 
 ready to state the facts in the case in the clear- 
 est manner and in the fewest words possible. 
 
Further D-jlvelopments. 307 
 
 He had not seen Silas since the night before, 
 and had not yet missed him from the confer- 
 ence when the other boys came to him, as just 
 related, in the interval while the committee 
 were deliberating upon the case of the five 
 guilty men. It was not until they reached home 
 that night that the absence of Silas and Mac 
 was accounted for. 
 
 A new surprise greeted the Camerton men 
 on arriving at the village, as they did, for the 
 most part, in a body. Tim McCoy had been 
 arrested, and was in the ''jug!" This was the 
 familiar name of the one-story log hut, lined 
 with boiler-iron, which stood on the green 
 near the company's store, and served as a vil- 
 lage jail. 
 
 At first nobody seemed to know certainly 
 who had made the arrest, or why it was done; 
 but it was beyond question that Tim was in the 
 lock-up, and scores of men and boys went to see 
 him, and talked with him through the grated 
 window. It was certainly Tim — a good deal 
 abashed and crestfallen at finding himself in 
 such a situation. In explaining his arrest to 
 the eager questioners who thronged about the 
 window, Tim was compelled to admit that he 
 had gone from Camerton to Millington to take 
 the train early that morning, and that he had 
 been arrested in the act of getting on the train. 
 
3o8 Camerton Slope. 
 
 It was news to the people in general to learn 
 that Tim had been lurking about Camerton dur- 
 ing all the exciting events of the last few days. 
 None of them had supposed him to be anywhere 
 near the place. It was also said that a very im- 
 portant letter was found on Tim's person, and 
 that this letter would make serious trouble for 
 some people in Camerton. But all sorts of 
 stories had gotten afloat concerning the affair, 
 and nothing seemed to be positively established 
 except the fact that Tim was in jail. 
 
 Archie and Sam got a glimpse of him through 
 the window, and after listening to what various 
 excited people had to say about the matter, the 
 two began to suspect that Silas and Mac could 
 throw more light upon the subject than anybody 
 else, and went at once to look them up. They 
 reached Mac's house first, and asked his mother 
 if he was in. 
 
 "Yes," was the reply; "but he's upstairs 
 asleep. He went out with Silas Coleman last 
 night on a hunt after that worthless Tim Mc- 
 Coy, and he got back tired enough, just after 
 the rest of you had started for the conference. 
 
 "Where did they go?" asked Archie. 
 
 " That 's more than I can tell you. Suppose 
 you go up and see him. It's time for him to 
 wake up and get his supper anyhow." 
 
 Archie took the offered light, and led the 
 
Further Developments. 309 
 
 way into the little room where Mac slept — he 
 had been there many a time before — and there 
 lay Mac, only partly undressed, enjoying that 
 luxury of deep sleep which only a hearty, grow- 
 ing youth, thoroughly tired out, knows anything 
 about. It required no end -of shaking to rouse 
 him up. 
 
 " Here, Mac, wake up ! Wake up, man, and 
 tell us what you 've been doing. Wake up, I 
 say !" cried Archie, as he continued to shake 
 Mac's inanimate form. Sam added some ex- 
 hortations of his own, and re-enforced Archie's 
 shakes with a series of vigorous slaps, until it 
 was impossible for anybody not actually dead 
 longer to resist their combined efforts. 
 
 '' He 's coming to, ain't he?" said Sam. 
 
 " I hope so," replied Archie, who was begin- 
 ning to be out of breath with his exertions. " If 
 he do n't revive pretty soon, we '11 have to get 
 a resurrectionist to undertake his case." 
 
 "What's the matter?" said Mac at last in a 
 drawling tone, after he had opened his eyes, and 
 looked from one to the other. 
 
 ''That's just what we want to find out," re- 
 turned Archie. " Come, Mac, be alive, and tell 
 us where you went last night, and what you've 
 been doing." 
 
 Mac sat upright and rubbed his eyes, and 
 presently began to be himself again. 
 
3IO Camerton Slope. 
 
 " O, but we had the greatest round last 
 night," said he, "and just lots o' fun; and we 
 came home tired to death — but we treed him." 
 
 Here Mac gave another yawn, and began 
 stretching. 
 
 " We thought you fellows had something to 
 do with it," said Sam, " and that 's why we 're 
 here. We 're just a-dyin' to hear all about it. 
 Wake up, Mac; quit yer gaping, an' tell us the 
 whole bizness." 
 
 Mac now began in good earnest, and told 
 them all about it. It will be remembered that 
 young Pritchard and Smalls had been detailed 
 the night before to keep watch over Pat Mc- 
 Coy's house from the cow-stable loft until Silas 
 came to relieve them. Several men had gone 
 into the house in the meantime, and Silas had 
 not long to wait until they came out again. 
 Later on, after Camerton had quieted down for 
 the night, Pat and Tim came out together, and 
 after exchanging a few words at the gate close 
 beside the stable, Tim passed on down the alley 
 with cautious step, and his father returned to 
 the house. 
 
 Low as the tones had been, Silas, only a few 
 feet away, watching them through a crack in 
 the side of the stable — managed to catch the 
 name " Millington." It was the only word he 
 got distinctly, but it gave him an idea. Milling- 
 
Further Developments. 311 
 
 ton was the name of a small railroad station 
 about ten miles from Camerton. Silas jumped 
 at the conclusion that Tim was setting out to 
 take the train at Millington, and that in all 
 probability he was the bearer of some important 
 message — it might be a written message. At 
 all events it would be a good thing to intercept 
 him, and, if possible, find out what the mes- 
 sage was.' 
 
 Acting upon this suggestion, he went and 
 roused Mac, and together they went to 'Squire 
 Hogan's, and obtained a warrant for Tim's ar- 
 rest. Then the constable had to be aroused, 
 and that functionary was at first very unwilling 
 to accompany them on what he called " a wild- 
 goose chase." He didn't believe that Tim was 
 anywhere in that part of the country, and he 
 was only convinced when Silas assured him that 
 he had seen Tim less than an hour ago. As 
 soon as he was satisfied on this point, he at once 
 prepared to get his horse and go with them. 
 They took a roundabout way for fear that Tim 
 might discover them and hide himself. 
 
 The first train that stopped at Millington 
 would reach there soon after daylight ; and so 
 there was not much time to lose, as it was two 
 o'clock before they had all their arrangements 
 made, and were ready to start. It was quite a 
 tramp for the boys, as the distance was fully 
 
312 Camerton Slope. 
 
 tliree miles greater by the route they took than 
 by the one Tim was supposed to have chosen. 
 But the event justified the wisdom of their 
 course. Half an hour before the train was due, 
 they crossed the railroad nearly a mile below 
 the station, and, making a circuit through the 
 woods, lay concealed just opposite the little 
 shed that served as a depot. They were not 
 certain, of course, whether Tim would take the 
 first train which went northward, or wait for the 
 next one going in the opposite direction ; but 
 the question was soon decided. 
 
 Millington was a "flag-station;" and as soon 
 as the train began to be heard in the distance, 
 the party in waiting had the satisfaction of 
 seeing Tim come out of an old bark-shed, and 
 vigorously signal the engineer to stop. As Tim 
 entered the train from the depot side, the con- 
 stable mounted the steps on the opposite side. 
 Tim was greatly astonished, but saw the folly of 
 any resistance, and suffered the officer quietly 
 to lead him out of the train, which at once 
 moved off", leaving the party of four on the 
 platform. 
 
 "Ye 're cunning, Tim," said the officer, after 
 he had read the warrant; "but there's fellows 
 on yer track that can beat ye oiit o' yer boots 
 at yer own game." 
 
 Tim's feeling of chagrin and disappointment 
 
Further Developments. 313 
 
 was not in the least allayed when he discovered 
 that Silas and Mac were the authors of his 
 arrest. 
 
 ''Ye see, Tim," said Silas, "we don't want 
 for likely chaps to stray off and get lost ; so we 
 came out to look ye up." • 
 
 " It was kind in you fellows ; it was so," re- 
 plied Tim, with only the faintest trace of a 
 sneer in his tone. He was too thoroughly de- 
 moralized just at that moment to strike back 
 with his usual vigor. 
 
 The party stopped at a farm-house near by to 
 get some breakfast, and then commenced the re- 
 turn trip. The constable had carefully searched 
 his prisoner before leaving the depot, and re- 
 lieved him of a revolver and a sealed envelope. 
 The latter, however, bore no address or writing 
 of any kind on the outside. 
 
JERRY COULEHAN AND HIS THREE "BOYS." 
 
 THE strike had been declared "ofF;" but 
 the men found themselves in no mood to 
 arrange to go to work the next morning. They 
 felt more like taking the day to celebrate the 
 downfall of MoUie Maguirism in their midst; and 
 they proposed to see to it that the community 
 was actually rid of the gang of murderers before 
 they struck another blow. This, at least, was 
 the sentiment that passed from mouth to mouth 
 that night. 
 
 Then, too, the hearing of Tim McCoy was to 
 take place in the morning, and everybody wanted 
 to be present to see if any new developments 
 were to take place. So, it was agreed late at 
 night that the slope should have one more 
 idle day. 
 
 The hearing really developed no new fact, 
 but simply furnished additional evidence of the 
 3H 
 
Jerry Coulehan and His "Boys:' 315 
 
 correctness of the conclusions already arrived 
 at. 'vSquire Hogan opened the letter which had 
 been found on Tim's person, in the presence of 
 the crowd, and then passed it around for general 
 inspection. It addressed no one by name, and 
 was unsigned by any name. It simply called 
 for a detail of men to ''do a clean job" in the 
 Camerton neighborhood. There was no doubt 
 among those who read the letter that the " clean 
 job" referred to was the intended murder of 
 Frank Harris and Sandy Cameron. No one 
 present could make out the meaning of some 
 hieroglyphics, or cabalistic signs, which adorned 
 the letter ; and opinion was divided as to whether 
 they contained the names of the proposed vic- 
 tims in the secret characters of the order, or 
 w^ere simply a kind of seal attesting the authen- 
 ticity of the document. 
 
 Nobody appeared against Tim when the case 
 was called in Squire Hogan's court; and he was 
 promptly discharged from the custody of the 
 law, only to be laid hold of by the vigilance 
 committee. This result was due to an arrange- 
 ment entered into between the vigilance com- 
 mittee and the Camerton leaders the night be- 
 fore. A strong feeling had developed that, as 
 the community had undertaken to deal with 
 Mollie Maguirism by a method of its own rather 
 than by regular legal process, it w^s scarcely 
 
3i6 Camerton Slope. 
 
 worth while to make an exception of Tim's 
 case. He was told that his release was condi- 
 tioned upon his acceptance of the same decree 
 of banishment that had been pronounced upon 
 his father and the other conspirators. 
 
 Tim at once consented to the terms, and took 
 the same obligation which the others had taken. 
 And so it was a party of six who were that day 
 conducted by the vigilance committee to a point 
 several miles beyond Camerton, and then turned 
 adrift, with the solemn warning that, if they 
 violated their obligation in any particular, the 
 penalty would be death — such a death as they 
 themselves had marked out for Frank Harris 
 and Sandy Cameron. Their families were to be 
 allowed to remain until they vshould find work 
 elsewhere and send for them. 
 
 This "extra-judicial" method of dealing 
 with criminal conspiracy may not commend it- 
 self to some people; but there is this to be said 
 for it — the cure was effectual. Mollie Maguir- 
 ism made no further attempt to plant itself in 
 the region where its most secret plottings had 
 been so thoroughly ferreted out, and so effectu- 
 ally exposed. It could not flourish in such an 
 atmosphere. And we may excuse the Camer- 
 ton men for indulging the belief that if similar 
 vigorous measures had been adopted east of the 
 mountains, a memorable '^ reign of terror" would 
 
Jerry Coulehan and His ''Boys:' 317 
 
 have been averted, and many a cold-blooded 
 murder prevented. 
 
 And now my story must draw to a close. It 
 remains only to add that Archie Atkins con- 
 tinued to make good use of the opportunities 
 afforded by Mr. Pancoast's night-school and the 
 Camerton Literary and Debating Society. His 
 father allowed him the use of his own earnings; 
 and he found it possible — after paying his 
 ^mother all she would receive for his board — to 
 lay aside a sufficient sum to carry him through 
 a course in one of the classical seminaries of 
 his native State. Then he became a teacher 
 for some years, and was strongly inclined to 
 make this the business of his life; but an un- 
 looked-for current of events carried him into a 
 different career. 
 
 While teaching in a Western institution he 
 had among his pupils a bright lad, the son of 
 an eminent lawyer who became governor of the 
 State. The teacher had become greatly at- 
 tached to his pupil, and through him had not 
 only made the acquaintance of the family, but 
 had become a frequent and familiar guest of 
 the household. It was quite a surprise to 
 Archie, however, when one day the governor 
 sent for him, and asked him to accept the posi- 
 tion of State Inspector of Mines. 
 
 "Professor Atkins," as he was now called, 
 
3i8 Camerton Slope. 
 
 was well qualified for such a position. His 
 early practical experience furnished a good 
 foundation on which to graft a special study of 
 the problems of ventilation, hours of labor, 
 wages, and all the other questions which in- 
 volved the health, the safety, and the general 
 interests of the mining population. 
 
 Besides attaining well-merited professional 
 distinction, his high Christian character and 
 pleasing style of public address brought him 
 frequently before the people upon important 
 occasions. He became as well known in the 
 various branches of the Young Men's Christian 
 Association, and in the Sunday-schools of the 
 large district which he traveled, as he was in the 
 mining circles. 
 
 Mac Castle and Sam Smallwood were both 
 induced, through Archie's influence, to apply 
 themselves to study. Mac graduated in medi- 
 cine, and settled down in Hawksville, where he 
 obtained a good practice. Sam Smallwood be- 
 came a mining-boss, and then a coal operator on 
 his own account. 
 
 Silas Coleman could not be induced to follow 
 the example of the others with respect to self- 
 improvement. He had no relish for books, 
 though he was by nature not inferior to any of 
 them in capacity; but he could not be made to 
 realize this. 
 
Jerry CoVlehan and His "Boys'' 319 
 
 **It's no use, boys," he said. ''Some fellows 
 was made to dig coal, an' that 's me. I can 
 dig as much coal as any man in Camerton ; an' 
 what 's the use to spoil a good miner to make a 
 poor scholar out o' him?" 
 
 However, after Sam began his operations, he 
 persuaded Silas to qualify himself for the posi- 
 tion of mining-boss, and employed him in that 
 capacity. 
 
 Jerry Coulehan's liking for legal studies 
 proved to be enduring. If he did not realize 
 his dream of becoming "a great lawyer," he 
 attained a grasp of legal subjects which was 
 very surprising in a man whose intellectual 
 awakening and moral reform came so late in 
 life. He succeeded 'Squire Hogan in office as 
 the local magistrate; and, despite a tendency 
 to pomposity in his manner, an over-assumption 
 of dignity, and a tedious volubility in expound- 
 ing the law, his decisions were regarded as just, 
 and gave general satisfaction. 
 
 Jerry always refers to Professor Atkins, Dr. 
 Mac Castle, and the coal operator — Smallwood — 
 as "my boys." And in speaking of them he is 
 fond of declaring: 
 
 *'I brought them out. I worked wid them 
 in school, and got them started in the upward 
 way." 
 
 In their occasional reunions at Camerton, the 
 
320 Camerton Slope. 
 
 three "boys" are disposed to humor the old 
 man's notion that their rise in the world is due 
 to his patronage. This conceit affords him a 
 deal of comfort, and it does them no particular 
 harm. 
 
 THE END. 
 
^'xixxjxxjxxjx ?i-irxjx xixxjsrxixxj^^ ? jx>|>^xi>w^jx xjSCxjxxixxix -j^^ 
 
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^V|>^|xxjx7ix7ixxixxi>^ 
 
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^ y jx xjx y jx X jx y jx yjx xjx yjx X jx :4^v yix X jx yjx ,4^ 4"^v x^^^ 
 
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