Fort Worth daily gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1890-08-09

be rescued?
He feared not, and SO fearing was filed
with the darkest despair.
There he crouched in his hole, growing
hoarser, sitter, colder, as the time
drifted away. The incessaut dripping OF
the water in the shaft sang strange tunes
in his ears. At times he dozed as he
bent his face upon his knees, ana no"
and again he crawled to the edge OF the
opening and glanced longingly upwards
to where the bright sunshine and the day
were.
Slowly the moments, minutes and
hours fitted away, and sitting there i'll
the gloom and stiffness Dan Ashton had
ample tins to consider the Nervousness
of the fraud he and Walter Mayhem had
practiced upon Mark Eliot,
Singularly enough Dan felt no bitter
ness towards Mark; he blamed himself
for ever listening to and abetting May
hew. The young man had been terribly
wronged, and he-Dan-deserved all
the torture and despair he was enduring.
Slowly the long autumn afternoon
spent itself, and gradually the light that
| fell down the old shaft grew fainter ana
| fainter. The twilight was setting over
Balcarres wood, and in little while the
| blackness of night would envelop Dan
| and his underground prison.
Presently Ashton st. rted from q light
doze into which he had fallen, and the
sound of men 8 voices raised In passion
ate anger fell upon his intent ears.
Itw Mark Eliot and Mayhem; he
could recognize their voices clearly; could
tell they were engaged in hot quarrel.
Suddenly the sharp report of shot rang
out, and then all was deathly still.
In amaze Dan crouched there, still
listening intsntly, and wondering what
that shot could mean. But he heard
nothing further; and then the intense
darkness of night wrapped him and MS
cell in its rayless shroud.
For little time longer Dan sat there
awake, but physically aud mentally ex-
hausted. Then, at length, he gave way
and fell into deep and dreamless
slumber.
When he awoke the intense blackness
still enveloped everything; he was cold
as stone, cramped with lying on the
rocky floor, and his throat seemed worse
than before.
What time it was he could not tell.
His watch had stopped when he was
plunged overhead, and he had not at
tempted to restart it.
Stiff with cold, fanished with hunger,
death, he groaned in his dire agony.
The trials of that day had not been lost
upon Dan, and what he was undergoing
now he began to regard in the light of a
punishment inflicted upon him by the
Almighty, whose laws he had outraged.
He had never been a religious man;
rather had he jibed all his life at holy
things. But, at last, the horror or
death had produced that change in him
which nothing less potent could effect;
and kneeliug there in that deusely dark
place which seemed likely to become his
tomb he prayed with all his ferVor.
And when that incoherent orison was
uttered he felt more at rest with hlmselr
and the world; felt more strong to meet
his fate. Then other thoughts rushed in
upon him.
II God permitted him to escape alive
from that prison he would make atone
! ment for all the wrongs of the past. He
. would confess what hand and
part he had had IN 'deceiving Mark Eliot;
would reveal to the world the real story
of Nellie Pc berton's parentage: and
the secret which enveloped the anteced-
ents of the dead "Mark Eliot should
be made known.
Thus thinking Dan crouohed there,
= and presently out of bis burning brain
/ ! there sprung an idea which filled him
| with new hope low half articulate
, sob of joy fell from his lips and in an in
slant he was putting the new idea to the
| test.
( Feeling in his pocket for his matchbox
r | he drew it forth. The matches were dry
5 | enough now to strike, and soon tiny
| let of blazing wood was Illuminating the
> blackness of that silent old gallery.
3 Holding the lighted m tch aloft Dan
g glanced eagerly about him, and he saw
j | that the place he stood in was really the
entrance to an old mine, for there be-
youd him away from the shaft the GAL
i lery extended for an indefinite length.
T Throwing the expiring match from
5 him, he dropped upon his knees and be-
Z gan crawling along the old road, going
, slowly, cautiously on, and carefully
feeling his way, fearing each moment
: that some new peril might confront HIM
/ Now and again he struck match &c
4 note the nature of the surroundings, and
= then he crawled onward afresh, hoping
, praying that the dark and silent tunnel
he was so painfully traversing might lead
him to freedom.
Dan remembered now that there was 6
t disused sdit somewhere in the wood, AND
j he imagined that this old gallery would
h lead to IT. And so hoping he went OF
= and on in the darkness, thinking that he
would have bartered all his possession
p for a lamp of some kind.
9 While that thought was In his mine
n his fingers clasped something on thu
= ground that sent q thrill of joy TO hi
heart. Eagerly he struck light to find
4 that he had stumbled upon a couple o
8 candles.
l They were hard and dry as sticks witt
d age, and had evidently been lost man!
years before by some careless pitman
e With a muttered "Thank God!' DaI
s lit one of the thin green rolls of tallow
n placed the other carefully away in hi
= pocket, and then continued his journey
The old road Dan followed was sbou
It four feet In height and about three yard
e in width. The floor was covered thickl'
}. with dust, the coal on each side wa
o coated with red dust, denoting that i
g hal been long exposed to the action o
4 the air, anu here and there small heap
of debris had fallen from the roof ant
: sides.
= But no serious obstacle barred the way
/. as yet. Now and again he came upol
70 old galleries which ran across one b