The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1904-09-25

feet over their heads. Behind came
the brickers building the tunnel wall
(for the brick tube was always kept
complete within a few feet of the tun-
nel's end. the pipemen with their
wrenches. and the electricians adding
light after light to the long row at the
tunnel roof. Barclay rubbed his hands
with glee, thinking of his profits, and
GregsOn lay by and let Jernigan do
the work. IT was tunnel building 40
cording to the books.
But one day the Swede, Swanson,
driving his pick for a shovelful of sand.
brought down a cart load. Where the
earth lay bare underneath it glistened
with tiny rivulets of water, and pres
emily the sand began to slough dowr
noiselessly, loosening more and more,
growing more fluid. All of the men
sprang to the end of the plank road
way. An Italian who went by the
name of AIacaroni-for the sake of uns-
formity-yelled Justify for Jernigan.
What you squallin' for?" demanded
the sub-boss; its only a pocket Of
Quicksand.
That was Jernigan's way-"only
quicksand"- it was to be observed
that even Jernigan stepped more quick
ly. The little rivulets became streams.
and the blue silly sand spread further
out in the tunnel
Up to that time the air lock had not
been used, but now the men rushed
from the deep workings, the inner steel
door OF the lock was clapped shut, and
the compressed air was turned in. With
a depth Of sixty feet it was necessary
to use a pressure of over thirty pounds
TO the square inch (two atmospheric,
in order to make the pressure OF air
within the tunnel equal to the pressure
Of earth and water without, thereby
tending TO keep the soft earth at the
tunnels end from caving in. From a
comparatively comfortable place to
work in the tunnel beyond the air lock
became a hot, misty hole, the heavy at
mOsphere of which was almost certain,
sooner or later, to bring paralysis TO
its victims, with that more terrible air
pressure disease known as the bends
Now, byes," said Jernigan, well
swaller air.
Twenty men crowded into the lock
and the outer steel door was closed.
Jernigan turned a valve, and the air
came kissing in, the men held their
noses, blew into their cheeks, swallow
ed Justify with nothing to swallow, that
they might equalize the pressure inside
their bodies with that without. Terri
bly, sharp pains shot through their
heads. and sometimes it seemed as
though their ear drums must burst. But
at last the limit of pressure was reach
ed, and the pain gradually passed away.
The door leading to the pressure work
ings was opened and in they went.
Jernigan's men were all young and
sound. None other can bear the strain
and fatigue of this most wearing of
toll. The tunnel had grown misty so
that the lights shone through haloes
of haze, and the compression of the
air had generated so much heat that
the men began TO strip. Jernigan's
voice sounded thin and high in the
thick air; ii was an effort to speak
aloud. Paddock, who was an inveter-
ate whistler, could not blow a sound.
She's stopped slobberin'," remarked
Jernigan as they reached the tunnels
end. Most of the men began digging
cautiously and shoveling the mud into
the tTamcars: Swanson, the Swede, sat
at one side and industriously made
small round balls Of clay, a little larger
than croquet balls. 1t seemed like chid's
work. and Jernigan kept UP steady
stream of raillery at the expense OF
the big Swede.
Swanson could have put his big fat
thumb on Jernigan and smashed him
and done with it, for he was so tall
he couldn't stand straight on the road
way of the tunnel without hitting his
head-a huge hulk of a man, tow
headed, blue-eyed, slow of speech faith
full. He called the sub-boss always
'Meester Yernigan"; Jernigan had at
least twenty names for him, and not
one of them at all complimentary.
And yet no dog ever served a master
more faithfully the Swanson served
the sub-boss.
And, suddenly, as they worked, the
tunnel began to grumble, and there
was Jernigan barring the passageway
to safety like rock.
"Give it to her, byes," he shouted
Swanson was already on his feet
with his arms full of the clay balls,
and he and three Of the other men be-
gan throwing them swiftly and vigor-
ously at the spot where the air was
escaping. Each hattened out near the
tunnel rim like thick corn cake, and
when the rafting ceased Swanson
sprang into the mud and pummeled the
clay into the break The heavy air in
the tunnel helped to hold the patch In
place. Then the work went on again,
the Italians picking and shoveling,
Billy, the tram mule, Tapping his long
ears, Swanson soberly patting mud pei
let's, and Jernigan directing everything
with cheerful unconcern. Once more
during the shift the tunnel grumbled,
once more there was a battery OF clay
balls, and once more the men won the
victory against the water.
-Ye're a pretty pitcher, Monty"
shouted Jernigan; why don't you
throw over the home platter Here,
Swanson, you Swede. climb up there
and paddle"
At the end of three hours of the
heavy air and the heavier work the