The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1881-01-15

IL
drudges like them?''
A terrible smile passed over his face;
he placed the lamp by his side and bent
over the canister. Only light to the
powder and the rocks above would be
riven, and with mighty burst the sea
would rush in and whelm them all! He
took out his knife and proceeded to open
the lid of the canister, which, by some
means had been fastened down too
tightly.
But, bark! Close beside him, Just
beyond the ending of the path, he heard
rustling. cracking sound, then crash,
and huge fragment of rock rolled
down and he was only just in time to
leap aside before the place where he
had stood was covered with shivered
portions oft as it descended, and, leap
ing from ledge to ledge, at last, with
sullen roar was lost in the depth below.
Still he listened, for another and more
dreadful sound caught his ear--the low.
swishing sound of falling water. He
crept as near as he could along the
pathway, and as he did so his face was
sprinkled with the cold spray of the tor
rent. He held out his hand, and then,
touching his lip, tasted the water. 1t
was salt!
Still and breathless as statue he
stood for moment; the next, holding
the lamp before him, he was rushing
with wild speed down the broken path
way away from the place. AS he APP
preached the entrance he stopped, and
for moment looked around in bewilder-
ment-he had mistaken the road, and
instead of taking that by which he had
come, had followed another, which abb
ruptly stopped-amass of coal had fallen
and broken it off. He had no time to
turn back. He threw his lamp down,
and, as fortune would have it, it was
not broken, but only fallen on one side
about ten feet below; then, drawing in
his breath, he prepared for the leap.
He did not know the ground-the lamp
had gone out. If he leaped he might
fall into some deep assure; but there
was no time to hesitate. He took the
leap and fell; the firm ground was be-
meath him.
His arm was bruised and his ankle
sprained. but he hardly felt it. Relight-
ing his lamp, he dashed along through
where the men were at work.
At last he met boy slowly dragging
along small coal wagon. He caught the
lad by the shoulder and shouted to him:
Scan you run, WHIP"
Gay, OF can," answered the boy.
"Then run your hardest, Will. Tell
them in the lower main the water
coming in, and in an hour it'll be
flooded"
"Fayther's therer' the boy cried, and
without another word rushed off.
Other boys were sent to the other
parts of the mine. forced by Georges
stern voice to obey, as he told them he
would not let one man leave the pit till
they were all there.
Then he waited. And if any one had
seen his face as he stood alone, a strange
change would have been noticed in it.
There was now look of such triumph
ant gladness as for many a year had not
rested there. He stretched out his
arms like one who had just ended some
weary labor. Then his hand sank on
his bosom and he muttered.
90 God! Saved! Saved! Thou hast
kept me from it and l may yet save
them ALL"
Quickly he recovered himself and
went into small Office where he kept
his books and instruments. He took
from box a small revolver and some
matches and went out again. He then
set light to heap of shavings and dry
wood lying near the door and this soon
blazed up. Illuminating the whole place.
And again he waited.
Soon troop after troop of the men,
flying at their utmost speed, reached
the pits mouth and fearful sight it
was to see the struggling mass of men,
each one, with maddened shouts and
blows, striving to come nearer to the
basket. But George Heimers' voice
was heard loud above all:
1.-The first that touches that basket
before l tell him, I'll shoot that manr'
They saw the levelled barrel OF the
revolver and drew back.
Those that are married stand here"
And in silence the men obeyed him.
He then signaled to certain num-
Der of them to enter the basket. Not
an instant was lost and they were hoist
ed out of sight.
The others strained their eyes to
watch the ascending mass, calculating
how soon itwould return to rescue them.
Some of the men who had their sons
with them clasped them tight in their
arms, whispering messages to be given
if they were lost, for in nearly every
case the fathers chose that the boys
should go in their places; some sank to
the ground muttering prayers that they
had never spoken since childhood, and
others listened to George Heimers as he
told them there was still hope if they
would obey him.
Jim Massey had been in one of the
most distant workings, and was one of
the last to reach the pits mouth, and
now he stood by the wall apart, with
eyes bent down on something he held in
his hand-a lock of Agnes hair that
she had given him the night before.