River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1903-03-12
Down The
DriII-HOIe
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TACK PAISLEY did not know how
I long he had been lying there on
the ground, with his face hidden in
his arms. and he could not have told
Of half the oughts-rejo des-
peratc, sOrrowful-that had been
passing through his brain. The won
der of it was that when at last he
sat up and drew his sleeve across
his eyes and looked about him he
realized that he had somehow been
conscious all the time that boring
had ceased at the new Hub well.
Yet neither the Hub nor any other
gas we'll on the ridge had been in
his mind when he came out of the
house. Of that he was sure. Great
news, part glad, part terrible, had
crowded out everything else. First,
the doctor had said that Jacks IA
Their had safely passed the crisis of
"a long and dangerous illness. Jack.
jumped for joy at that.
Then Jacks mother had reported
the doctors next words, that Mr..
Paisley must have nourishing food.
delicacies, chicken She had cried
as she said it, and Jacks face had
paled, remembering his three pets,
Tiny and Hoarsy and Dick But Jack
knew the money was about gone, and
there was enough of the hero in the
boy to make him stiffen his chin and
answer: "Then father must have one
Of my chickens, but l don't know
which,"
At that his courage faltered, and
he rushed out of the house. He coulG
not choose. He would not wait to
learn which chicken his mother Sc
Iected for the slaughter.
OF course his first Indebtedness
lessened little as the moments went
by. The blessed hopefulness of
youth came to his relief A chicken
would not have to be killed for two
or three hours, anyway-and some
thing might turn up!
Then it was he became distinctly
aware that they had stopped drill
ing at the Hub well. A kind of de-
fensive instinct-urging him to guard
against unhappy thoughts-turned
his feet that way.
>
and Jim Dodd, the tool dresser, sit
ting and smoking IN philosophic
ease; but Mr.. Johnson, the con
tractor, was stamping back and
forth, pausing now and then TIC
glance gloomily at the two-and-a-
quarter-inch driI1-line that hung over
the mouth of the well. The fraycd
end told the whole story-the rope
had parted
How deep are you?" Mr.. Johnson
demanded.
"Jest about $50 feet" was the
driller's placid answer. Jack noticed
that his calmness seemed to irritate
the contractor.
well, can't you think of any
thing?" Mr.. Johnson cried. "Have
we got TO lose all our work, and the
tools into the bargain?"
Jack had drawn nearer He waited
with interest for the answer.
"'Twon't be so easy to get 'em.
You know we're using our 15-inch
bit, and that cuts a 16-inch hole,
about. Well, the tools are not more
than four inches at the top. and since
the bit isn't fast they must be lean
ing against the wall, where there's
about one chance in ten thousand Of
getting a slip-socket over them.
There's a stub of rope sticking up,
too, that would interfere with tbs
fishing-tool."
Have YOU no idea at all that would
help us, Eric? 1t seems a shame to
abandon the well. Couldn't we dig
the tools out? Two hundred feet
isn't much"
Eyes, It's, when most of it's blue
limestone. I've been thinking of a
way. Some would call it risky, but
l can't see how
"Out with it,"
well, I'd lower a boy down there
and have him take hitch around the
rope-socket."
Jack positively shivered-his quick
imagination had so clearly grasped
the horror of a descent into that
hole. Mr.. Johnson looked doubtful.
That's dangerous. Suppose a boy
lost his head-did something so you
couldn't get him out?"
''What could he do? Let me tie
the rope round him and I'll graran-
tee to pull him out"
What about gas-bad air-water?''
eve know there's no water to
amount to anything, and we haven't