Below Ground

I

‘AN engineer and his helper are caught in a slide!’ With the swiftness of fire on oil-soaked ground this news was spreading throughout the mine.

It invaded the drifts, the crosscuts, the stopes; it leaped from one level to another; and, in no time, arrived at the surface, where it entered the offices, shops, mill, yard, and all the dwellings of the mining camp, creating everywhere a dismal hush.

Underground all work had ceased. Throughout the mine the miners gathered into little groups. Those on the 800 level — the level on which the accident had taken place — were massed, each with a pick or a shovel in his hand, at chute 821, the only entrance to stope 82 on that level which the rock slide had not closed. Here they stood silently in a compact semicircle, the flickering lights in their caps and hands forming amid the blackness a large illuminated space. A few of the men, led by Scott, the shift boss, had already crawled through the chute, a short, cone-shaped passage, into the stope, carefully stepping over a freshly formed, still not quite settled, pile of rock. Stope 82 was an irregular underground excavation. Its uneven floor and rugged roof, both steeply inclined, were about forty feet apart and were, here and there, connected with each other by large and more or less vertical masses of ore, or ‘pillars,’ left in place temporarily in order to support the roof while the rest of the ore was mined out. This ore had been mined out some three years before, and since that time no work had been done in the stope, but now, when the mining on the levels above was completed and that part of the mine was nearly ready to be abandoned, it was decided to ‘rob’ the pillars — that is, to recover from them as much ore as the safety of the men would allow. Two days before the accident a pillar in the farthest and highest corner had been drilled and blasted. Great was the astonishment of the miners next morning when on entering the stope they found, instead of the expected forty or fifty tons of ore, nearly twenty times that amount of barren rock, which the blast had brought down from the roof. And what was still worse, the rock did not remain at the upper part of the stope, but came halfway down the slope, where it remained hung up and ready to slide again at any moment. Clearly, the roof was much ‘heavier’ than it was thought to be. All that the miners could do then was to leave the stope. This was on Saturday.

The following Monday, shortly before ten o’clock in the morning, James Arlin, the surveyor, and George Greenway, his assistant, entered the stope to take some measurements. Two Mexican miners who worked in the drift saw them crawl through chute 822. Two or three minutes later they heard shouts, which immediately were drowned in the rattle and crash of a rock slide.

They hurried toward the chute and, seeing that the movement of the rock had not yet subsided and that the chute was already filled with it, but that it was kept from running out on the floor of the drift by a few chunks which jammed in front, they closed the chute gate to prevent any movement, and dashed, one to the right and the other to the left, calling to the other miners.

It so happened that the shift boss was near by. Taking with him half a dozen men and ordering the others to find the mine foreman and notify the office, he crawled through chute 821, entered the stope, and shouted. No one answered. He shouted once more, and again there was no answer. Then he began to advance slowly along the lower end of the stope. His men followed him, all moving cautiously and ready to jump aside at the first sign of a new slide. At first they walked over solid ground, but, approaching chute 822, they came upon the pile of rock which filled that chute and also the next, chute 823, and the ground between them. Somewhere under that rock lay Arlin and Greenway.

‘She may come down again,’ muttered Scott, staring into the blackness above. ‘You go up, Jim, and see,’ he added. And while Jim was gone Scott and the other miners began to look around for some sign of the buried men. They found nothing, nor did they hear anything.

II

Meanwhile Jim, whose little light could be seen higher up, bobbing now here, now there, shouted to his companions: ‘Be careful! She is going to come! You better come up, Scott!’

Scott climbed after Jim. ‘It looks bad all right, but it might hold.’ Both descended.

Some more miners came up into the stope, bringing picks and shovels.

‘Get out, you fellows, and wait in the drift,’ ordered Scott. ‘The stope ain’t safe. You stay here, Jim, and you, Jack, and you, and you. . . .’ He chose a dozen strong men — Americans, Italians, Hungarians, Mexicans — and put them to work cleaning up the place. This was not so easy to do. The rock could not be drawn out of the chutes from below, because that would crush the entombed men. Nor could it be shoveled in the usual way, that part of the stope being a long and narrow trough, one side of which was vertical and the other steep and high. There was no place to throw the rock. The only thing to do was to lift it, piece by piece, and carry it away. And that is what the miners began to do. They worked intently and silently, taking good care not to disturb the rock which still was moving under their feet.

And while they worked thus the foreman came, and with him arrived the mine rescue crew. The newcomers, assisted by the other miners, laid on the rocks two lines of planks, which made possible the use of wheelbarrows and shovels. The work went faster. Soon the space between the two chutes and beyond was cleared sufficiently to show that Arlin and Greenway were not there. That meant that they were in one of the chutes, or, if they were separated at the moment of the slide, that there was one man in each. The rescuers broke up into two groups, each surrounding a chute.

The foreman watched the men for some time; then, ordering them to quit shoveling, he shouted: ‘Hey, Arlin, Greenway! — Arlin, Greenway!'

No answer. The miners listened and then resumed their work, shoveling and throwing rock eagerly, skillfully, and silently.

‘Did you look at the rock up in the back?’ asked the foreman.

‘Yes,’ answered Scott.

‘How is it?’

’Not so good.’

‘Let’s go up and see.'

They picked their way up carefully, each carrying his light lifted above his head. In this manner they came to a large-sized boulder which leaned against a pillar, touching it only at one corner.

‘How much rock,’the foreman asked, ‘is back of that pillar?’

‘Plenty.'

‘Looks bad.’

As by command the two bosses turned around and looked at the men below. But all they could see was two dozen lights which moved steadily and systematically.

‘Maybe we’ll have to build a bulkhead’, remarked the foreman.

‘Looks like the captain and engineers are coming,’remarked Scott instead of replying.

Indeed, four more lights had just come out of chute 821 and were slowly approaching the miners.

‘Let’s go down,’ said the foreman, and, followed by Scott, he began to descend.

The newcomers were, as Scott supposed, the general manager, the mine superintendent, the chief engineer, and the stope engineer. They all approached the first chute, inquiring of the miners how things stood.

‘Where are the bosses?’ asked the superintendent.

‘Here we are,’ replied simultaneously the two, who just at that moment approached from behind.

The superintendent lifted his light on the level of Scott’s face and said :—

‘You are n’t happy, Scott.’

‘Oh, I am happy, all right.'

‘You don’t look it.'

‘Don’t pay any attention to looks, Mr. Denning.'

‘Well, Dick,’the superintendent turned toward the foreman, ‘what is the good news?’

‘The rock up above don’t seem good to me.’

‘What about it?’

‘ Hangs on a hair.’

‘Can we do anything?’

‘ We can build a bulkhead above us.'

‘You think we need it?’

‘We sure do with more than thirty men around here.'

‘Let’s do it, then.’

‘Scott, you get some men in the drift and bring along all the timber and powder boxes you can get.’

Scott disappeared in the chute.

‘How is the roof above us?’

‘The roof here is all right; I looked at it when I first came.’

‘What, time were they caught?'

‘About ten minutes to ten, from what these Mexicans told me.’

The superintendent looked at his watch and said: ‘It’s eleven now. They have been there already over an hour.’

‘Guess they’re done for’.

‘Maybe the rock is packed so we can’t hear through it,’ suggested the chief engineer.

‘The rock ain’t packed. That’s the hell of it.’

‘In which of the two chutes do you think they are?’ asked the general manager.

‘Two Mexicans saw them enter through this chute here, and they say that they heard the rock come down right away. Looks to me like they are here.’

And as if to affirm his assumption one of the miners caught with his shovel the free end of a cloth tape line, the rest of which was tightly held by the rock.

‘They’re here!’ exclaimed several voices at once.

‘Better quit on the other chute and send out the men,’ suggested the foreman.

‘No,’ answered the superintendent, ‘we won’t stop till we see them —’

He cut his sentence short and looked up in the darkness. The rest of the men looked in the same direction. They all heard a rustle there. And before this sound had died away two pieces of rock nearly two feet in diameter came rolling down and landed in the middle of the chute, where only a moment ago half a score of men had stood.

‘That was a good one.’

‘Missed by a hair.’

‘Got out just in time.’

Still talking, the miners returned to their places.

’You better wait,’ ordered the superintendent.

They waited a minute or two, but no more of the rock came down.

‘Dick,’ said the superintendent, ‘get some more fellows to bring that timber.’

Soon after the foreman had left, Scott and his men returned, each carrying timbers of varying shapes and sizes. The bulkhead began to grow rapidly, and its usefulness was shown even before it was finished, when a few more chunks of rock, tearing loose somewhere above, came flying down and were stopped promptly by the mass of timber and rock.

III

The clearing of the chutes, on the other hand, advanced very slowly. It became no longer possible to use the shovels after the rock over the chutes was leveled to their edges. Nor could the men stand on the rock in the chutes, for this still kept on moving under their feet.

The work was awkward and fatiguing.

‘We’ll have to spell those men,’ said the superintendent, and he shouted to Scott, who was still directing the erection of the bulkhead, to get some fresh men.

The new men arrived, and those whose places they took left the stope. The work continued in silence. The manager, the superintendent, and the two other engineers stood also in silence behind the men who were clearing chute 822.

‘It will take them two or three hours, at that rate,’ remarked Barr, the chief engineer.

‘We’ll be lucky to get them as soon as that,’ replied the superintendent.

‘Is that school-teacher — what is her name?’ began the manager.

‘Miss Bowman?’

‘Yes. Were she and Greenway going to get married?’

‘They have n’t announced it yet. But that’s what everybody thinks.’

‘ Poor girl,’ continued the manager, ‘she begged me to take her down with us.’

‘ She sure was n’t expecting anything like this when I saw her going to the schoolhouse two hours ago.’

And again the four men became silent, each thinking his own thoughts, while the miners worked in front of them earnestly.

Suddenly they all became motionless and began to listen intently once more. The manager and his companions approached the chute, bent over, and listened also. From below, through the rock, moaning sounds came.

‘Arlin! Greenway!’ shouted the superintendent.

A feeble, strange voice came in reply. No one understood what it said, nor could anyone tell to which of the two men that voice belonged.

‘Who is it?’ once more shouted the superintendent after a few seconds of silence. His voice was quivering.

‘Arlin,’ came the faint reply from below.

‘Where is Greenway? Is he with you? Can you hear him?’

‘No.’

‘Are you hurt?’

‘Don’t know. I’m squeezed on all sides awfully.’

‘Cheer up, old man, we are coming.’

The superintendent stepped aside, and the men resumed their work with still greater eagerness. They worked silently, and silently the four engineers watched them. The foreman and the shift boss, who by that time had finished the building of the bulkhead, had also joined the group.

‘There must be still twelve feet of rock over them,’ remarked the manager.

‘I don’t believe we’ll make it in less than a couple of hours,’ said the superintendent. He was going to add something else, but he did not. Instead he turned briskly around and looked up the stope. The other men had turned around also and looked in the same direction. And there, somewhere in the darkness, was heard a rustle, the wellknown sound of moving fine material, then the rumble of rock coming down, then a bombardment against the bulkhead lasting several seconds.

‘It’s lucky we got that thing in,’ said the manager when the rattle ceased.

‘Yes, it works all right,’ agreed the foreman.

Once more the miners resumed their work, and once more they stopped it a few minutes later.

‘He’s talking again,’ said one of the miners.

The superintendent approached the chute and cried: ‘Hello, Arlin!’

‘You make the rock move and then you let down the “ fines.” It’s choking me.’

‘All right, Arlin. We’ll look out. How are you now?’

‘Oh, not so good, but I guess I can stand it for a while.’ He tried to talk cheerfully. His voice, however, and the intervals between the words betrayed much suffering.

A few more rocks came down and crashed against the bulkhead.

‘She’ll come down yet, sure as hell,’ declared one of the miners.

‘I’ll bet you the drinks she won’t,’ replied the superintendent. ‘Not for a good while yet.’

IV

Another half hour passed, during which the men removed some two or three more feet of rock. The farther down they went the more difficult it became to work. They no longer could reach the rock from the edges of the chute, but had to stand inside, and this forced them to move with extreme care. To make the situation worse the space in which they worked was becoming more and more narrow, and this meant that fewer men could work at a time. Then there were the fines which they had to keep from falling down. And this was a delicate affair. No matter how carefully the men removed the finely crumbled rock before lifting a slab, there was always enough of it left to sift through and torture Arlin.

Rapidly flew minutes, quarters of an hour, half hours, in this slow, painstaking work and eager watching.

From time to time, in order to break the pressing stillness and darkness, the superintendent would call to Arlin and would inquire how he felt.

‘Like hell,’ would come the answer. Or ‘Cold,’ or ‘Thirsty.’

Arlin’s voice was now heard more audibly, yet it was still feeble. He talked lifelessly, as if with much difficulty.

But all of a sudden he spoke with greater energy, which made all the men above start and cease working.

‘I hear Greenway! He’s moaning! Do you hear him?’

They heard nothing.

‘No, Arlin, we don’t hear him. Is he still moaning?'

‘Yes, he is.’

‘ Does he say anything?’

‘No. Just moaning.’

‘Greenway, Greenway!’ cried the superintendent. ‘George, do you hear me?’

‘No, he does n’t answer.’

’Go after it, boys!’ said the superintendent, and again they resumed their work.

Little by little another three feet of rock were removed. Arlin’s voice was becoming more and more distinct, and he began to talk more willingly and more often. The men, without ceasing their work, replied, and even exchanged jokes now and then. The tension of uncertainty to which till now all had been subjected was broken, and all believed in an early rescue of the buried men. Even the continued movement of rock higher up in the stope bothered the men no longer.

‘Mr. Denning,’ Arlin called to the superintendent, ‘what time is it?’

‘A quarter to one,’ answered the superintendent, looking at his watch.

‘Mr. Denning, I hear Greenway talking. Do you hear him?’

‘Yes, we do, but we can’t understand what he says.’

‘He says that his foot is squeezed and that he has a rock under his neck that hurts like the devil.’

‘Greenway, Greenway!’ cried the superintendent.

‘Hello!’ came a weak reply.

‘Do you hear me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Cheer up, George, we’ll get you in no time now. Go to it, boys!’

Crawling on their knees and brushing into the palms of their hands all the fines that they could scrape out around a piece of rock, the men lifted out carefully one piece after another. But still, in spite of all this precaution, the fines were working their way down.

‘For God’s sake don’t let the dust come down! I can’t breathe,’ complained Arlin again and again.

The miners jested no longer. They worked in silence. Greenway cried out sharply, ‘My neck! My neck!’

‘It is two o’clock already,’ said the manager. ‘Do you think we’ll be through by four? Should n’t we give an order not to do any blasting to-day?'

‘Looks as if we’d be through before that,’ answered the superintendent.

The manager turned to Barr and Steele and said: ‘ I don’t think there’s any need of your waiting any longer. And you too.’ he turned to the foreman, ‘can go. Mr. Denning, Scott, and I will attend to the rest. Say something cheerful to that girl if she’s still at the shaft.’

The two engineers and the foreman left.

V

Another hour passed; then half an hour more, and finally the men uncovered Arlin’s hand and Greenway’s head. Still half an hour later Arlin was freed altogether and taken on a stretcher to the surface. But Greenway for a long time remained in the chute, his right foot firmly held between two pieces of rock and solid ground all wedged together. Finally he too was freed and put on a stretcher. His eyes were closed. In the cage he opened them for a moment and said, directing his words to no one in particular: ‘Please tell Miss Bowman that I’m all right.’ Then he again closed his eyes.

Miss Bowman was still at the shaft. From the first news of the accident she had never left the place. At each hoisting signal she had moved closer to the shaft gate and had watched the rope go up. She never inquired of the men stepping out of the cage what the situation was below, and even when the men of their own accord volunteered information, she listened with no sign of attention.

So far she had not missed a single cage, but when the one she was waiting for finally came up she seemed at first not to see it at all. Soon, however, she rose from the powder box on which she was sitting and approached the superintendent, who was first to come out of the cage. And he, as if not noticing the girl’s gaze, turned away and picked up a shovel, which it was not his business to pick up. She looked at the manager, who was the next to leave the cage, her face losing the last tint of color.

‘As you see, we got him out,’said the manager, trying to be cheerful. And, seeing that the girl was still gazing at him, he added, putting his hand on her shoulder: ‘And he is not hurt so very hard — only all in. He’ll be all right in a few days.’ Then, turning to the superintendent, he asked: ’Did you let the men know that they can now fire?’

‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Denning, ‘Scott is doing it.’

The stretcher was already out of the cage. Two men lifted it and started. Miss Bowman, the manager, the superintendent, and a few other men followed.

‘How is Arlin?’ the manager asked the doctor when they arrived at the hospital.

‘He’ll be all right. He got badly mauled up, but I don’t believe anything is seriously injured.'

‘And Greenway? Has the boy a chance?’ again inquired the manager after the doctor had finished looking over the motionless man.

‘He may have — for all I know. Should n’t be surprised if he had.’