The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1892-04-01

forward with characteristic gallantry
and devotion to offer themselves for
the perilous service. An attempt was
made to clear the shafts of smoke
sufficiently to prevent the suffocatiou
of the men while descending, and then
the cage was lowered with such rush
that old miners held their breath as
they saw the cable spin over the pull
ley.
Meanwhile the dream had been full
filling itself in the depths of the mine.
Treloar and Pennart were as usual
working together when the alarm was
given, and it had broken out in the
level they were then in. They quickly
ascertained that the way to the shaft
was still open, and they started for it,
side by side, retaining their tools more
from forgetfulness than foresight
They were within hundred yards Of
the shaft when Treloar halted and
pulled his mate back, and, as he did
So the ground and walls of the passage
shook; there was a rending, grinding
crash of timber, and a great mass Of
rock fell from the roof in front of them,
filling the gallery. They stood still
until it seemed that there would be no
further fall, and with scarcely word,
simultaneously attacked the obstruct-
ing mass. Both powerful men and
skillful miners, they knew how to ap-
| ply their tools with most effect, and in
less than half an hour so much had
been cleared away from the top of the
barrier that it was possible to creep
through close to the roof. But while
they had been working, the fire had
been advancing in their rear, and sud
den puffs of superheated air, whiffs
of black smoke and an ominous rise in
the temperature, accompanied by a
sharp, cracking sound, growing con-
stantly nearer, warned them that little
time was left them for escape. At this
moment Pennart leaned exhausted on
his pick and turned to Treloar, mean
ing to ask him if it were not best to
stop work and try to free the passage
over the pile of rock. To his conster-
nation, he saw John slowly sinking to
the ground, his face white. as if faint
ing. Pennart sprang to his SIDE, and
would have saved him, but Treloar
shook his head, and, after gasping for
breath a moment, whispered rather
than spoke:
NO, no, dear ladl It's no use! I'm
done! Climb thou through the hole.
See! The smoke is thickeniug, and an
other minute IL block that way, too,
for twill hang under I roof an choke
thee. Good-by. dear Jim, an don't
worry over me" And he sank against
the timbers of the wall, painting heavily.
The crisis of James Pennart's life
had come. In such circumstances mems
minds work with lightning rapidly,
and he took in the situation instantly,
and grasped the duty that lay before
him clearly. That duty was to save his
friend, no matter at what peril to him
self He knew perfectly well that
John Treloar would have had no hest
tation in such case. He knew that
there was just chance of being able
to thrust John through the hole, or to
go through first himself and then drag
him after. He felt still physically cap
able of doing this, and yet something
held him back. All his obligations to
his friend rose up against his sluggish
will With them, unhappily, rose also
a remembrance of Alice Minton's
preference for the man who now lay
half unconscious before him. No def
mite purpose of evil crossed his mind;
no definite feeling of jealousy; but the
hesitation which paralyzed his moral
nature deepened. All this reflection,
tedious as it is to represent it in words,
occupied SO few seconds that there
seemed to have been hardly a pause
after Treloar's speech when his COM
rade answered.:
Nonsense, John! You're a long
was from being done yet Lean on
me, and We'll make the rifle together"
But as he said this, James Pennart
clearly knew that the moment for &C
ton had passed. John Treloars eyes
opened slowly, he moved his head SO
that he could look down the gallery,
and seeing dense curtain of smoke
pressing toward them, he once more
shook mis- head, and with half-strangled
utterance murmured: "Get, Jim, for
the sake-of-Alice"' and his mead sank
upon his breast.
Pennart hesitated no lorger. Press
ing his friends hand, but unable to
speak for emotion, he sprang up the
pile of debris, forced his body through
the narrow opening, rolled into the
clear gallery, and reached the shaft in
time to be taken up on the last trip of
the cage. AS he was struggling over
the rock heap after abandoning his
comrade, he thought, but could not be
sure, that he heard a faint a dying
voice whisper: "Alice!" 1t might have
been an echo or a fancy. and no one
could prove or disprove its for when,
after many weeks, the Yellow Jack ct
mine was once more habitable, moth
ing but few charred bones remained
beside the fallen rock in the gallery. to
show where John Treloar had died.
Had died. have said-but, after all,
which of these two men was it whose
life ended on that fateful day? JeAn
Treloar's name is never mentioned by
the miners save with deepest respe ct
sc3 t6niflSNion. Ne, indeed, seems to
our circumscribed vision to have
missed happiness and success and love:
but what do we know of ultimate con-
sequences? AS for James Pennart.
I u 4. !