Down the Slope. Otis James

all hands who work here. Let us through peaceably, an' we'll allers be your friends, but if we're obliged to fight for it there'll be nothin' left of you."

      "We'll take our chances rather than have such as you call us friends; but it strikes me that a fight, with all the weapons on our side, is too big a contract for you to tackle."

      "Put out your lamps, boys, an' we'll show these fools what can be done."

      In an instant the tunnel was plunged in profound darkness, and the lights worn by the boys served to reveal their whereabouts clearly.

      Both realized how great would be the disadvantages under such circumstances, and in the least possible time the tiny flames were extinguished.

      Even while this was being done the rioters attempted to effect an entrance; but, without exposing himself to a blow, Sam discharged his weapon, paying little regard to accuracy of aim.

      The noise of the report echoed and reëchoed through the passages, and the chamber was filled with smoke, during which time Fred fancied he saw a form leaning half through the aperture, and he also fired.

      "That makes two cartridges, an' now we've only got ten left," Sam said in a half whisper. "At this rate we can't keep the battle goin' a great while, an' when the thing is ended we shall have to take whatever they choose to give."

      "Donovan may send some one before the ammunition is exhausted."

      "He won't think of such a thing for a good many hours yet. Could you find your way back to where the men are at work on the pumps?"

      "And leave you alone?"

      "One of us must go, or else these fellows will soon be where a great amount of mischief can be done."

      "I am willing to do whatever you think best."

      "Then go, and tell whoever you meet, of the pickle I am in. I'll stay because I'll most likely make a better fist at fighting than you."

      "Do you want the cartridges?"

      "Yes, and the gun."

      Fred placed the weapon against the wall near his companion, and turned to go.

      "Don't light your lamp until you are so far away that the flame can't be seen, for it won't do to let them know we have divided forces."

      A silent handshake and Sam was alone.

      "It's goin' to be a tough job, an' most likely I'll get the worst of it," he said to himself, as he leaned toward the aperture in a listening attitude.

      Five minutes passed, and then came a shower of missiles, causing a choking dust to arise; but doing no further injury. Immediately afterward the boy fancied another attempt was being made to crawl through, and he discharged both weapons in rapid succession.

      "Now we've got him!" a voice shouted, and before Sam could reload the guns two or three men were in the chamber.

      He crouched in the further corner hoping to slip the cartridges in the barrel, while they should be hunting for him; but one of the party ignited a match, and an instant later he was held as if by bands of iron.

      "Light your lamps, an' be lively about it, for there's another one here!"

      Sam made one violent effort to release himself; but in vain. When the chamber was illuminated he saw a crowd of men peering in every direction for Fred.

      "It's Bill Thomas' butty," one of the party said in surprise. "I didn't know he was a bosses' pet."

      "Neither will he be very long. Where's the other fellow?" and Sam's captor tried to choke the answer from him.

      "If he don't speak quick strangle him. We can't spend much time on a kid," some one suggested, and the question was repeated.

      Sam knew that the men were in no humor to be trifled with, and there was little doubt but the strangling would follow unless he obeyed. It was possible to delay the explanations for a few seconds, and thus give Fred so much more time to reach the lower level.

      With this view he coughed and struggled after the vice-like pressure upon his throat was removed, to make it appear as if it was only with the greatest difficulty he could breathe, and fully a moment was thus gained when his captor kicked him two or three times as he said:

      "None of that shamming. Speak quick, or I'll give you something to cough for."

      "The fellow who was with me went back to the slope."

      "How long ago?"

      "When we first knew you were here."

      "That's a lie, for we heard you talking."

      "What makes you ask any questions if you know better than I?"

      "When did he leave?"

      "I told you before. Of course he waited long enough to find out how many there were of you."

      At least five minutes had passed from the time Sam was first questioned, and this must have given Fred a safe start.

      "Go after him, Zack, and take Jake with you," the spokesman said, sharply. "Travel the best you know how, for everything depends on overtakin' him."

      The two men started at full speed, and the leader asked Sam:

      "Where is Joe Brace?"

      "Brace?" Sam repeated, as if in bewilderment, "Why he didn't come with us."

      "Wasn't he in this place when you got here?"

      "Of course not. I'm most certain I saw him in the village just after the works were shut down."

      There was a ring of truth in the boy's tones which could not be mistaken, and the rioters appeared satisfied.

      "Abe, go an' tell Billings that Brace got out of here in time to warn Wright, an' let him know what we've struck. Don't waste any time now."

      When the messenger had departed the leader beckoned to another member of the party, and said as he pointed to Sam:

      "Take care of him. The whole thing would soon be up if he should get away."

      "What'll I do with the cub?" the man asked in a surly tone.

      "Anything so that you keep him safe. A thump on the head will help straighten matters, if he tries to kick up a row."

      "Where are you going?"

      "We'll foller up Zack an' Jake, an' if they catch the boy there'll be nothin' to prevent our finishin' the business we came for."

      After a brief consultation, which was carried on in such low tones that Sam could not distinguish a word, the men started down the drift, leaving the prisoner and his captor alone.

      Sam knew the man was named Bart Skinner, and that he was an intimate friend of Billings'. He had the reputation of being quarrelsome and intemperate, and was exactly the sort of person one would expect to see among such a party as were now committing lawless deeds.

      "I don't count on wastin' much time with you," Bart said when the footsteps of his companions had died away in the distance. "I'll leave you in a safe place pervidin' you behave; but let me hear one yip, an' I'll try the weight of my fist. Come along."

      No attempt had been made to fetter Sam. The rioters understood that it was impossible for him to escape, and probably looked upon it as a clear waste of labor.

      When Bart spoke he seized the boy by each arm, forcing him through the aperture, and then retaining his hold as he followed. Once in the tunnel the two pressed on at a rapid gait toward the shaft, Sam being obliged to walk a few paces in advance, until they arrived at a point where a tunnel had been run at right angles with the drift; but which was shut off by stout wooden doors.

      "We'll stop here a bit," Bart said, as he tried to unfasten the rusty bolts which had not been used for many years.

      Believing that he might as well accept his capture with a good grace instead of sulking over it, Sam did what he could to assist in opening the doors.

      When the task was finally accomplished Bart motioned for the boy to enter first, and after assuring himself by the flame of his lamp that the air was pure, he obeyed.

      "Go on a