Los Angeles herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1900-1911, 1906-12-19


car track Seventy hours since the
weary labOrers had first thrown pick
and shovel into earth on their weary
duty Of search for the bodies of their
dead comrades. Two weeks would be
taken up I'm that work, i'm that rescue
Of flesh from dirt for the sole purpose
Of returning It to its former resting
place.
An old miner leaned forward and lis
tened, "once, twice, thrice" a tap Of
metal against metal sang over that wire
of life The man of daylight staggered
to his feet and called his companions as
he recognized that signal, for wher-
ever a miner lives and knows of the
depths Of ore, he knows that tap of
distress.
1t was the miners code over a steel
rail but. II acted as bomb Men threw
themselves recklessly against that un-
plying wall of earth and rock Trem-
bling hands tore at yielding earth--and
always came that signal.
In the meantime the man of dark
ness had leaned against a wall of
earth and peered forward into the
gloom. He knew he could not move
about for his feet struck earth when he
moved forward and his back was
damned hard against the wall behind.
A hard, gnarled hand crept out along
the uneven service of earth, IL struck a
tip of granite, a sharp edge of stone,
the crumbling, Sitting earth, and then
something hard and cold. 1t was the
track of the tramway, the telegraph
line to life. Unseeng eyes stared hard
at darkness, quivering hand toiled at
tiny pebble and loosened it, The blood
smeared fingers reached out again and
tapped again and again on the rail-
A Living He'll
what a balI must haua hpnn tho xVait-
ing, the short sharp breathing, the hard
set lips, the Keeling brain waiting for
its answer. No criminal about to die
could have suffered the torments of that
hell. An answer meant hope, hope even
in that grave; a failure meant that
black death, death of wild delirium, of
starvation.
Hour after hour that man had gazed
at nothing, had seen nothing, had sat
there, with brain shrieking for action
and hands unable to move.
Then came the reply, a faint reply;
and then another wait and presently
above his head the dirt tumbled down
about him, striking his face and neck
Maybe 1t was some animal OF the SUBJ
terraneans come to haunt him; maybe
it was some evil spirit from the hell
over which he rested that had wandered
to keep him company, or maybe 1t was
the soul of Anderson or Robes or any
of those five boys who had gone down
to the death with him.
What relief it must have been to feel
the cold, blunt point, the heart-cheer-
ing piece of metal, not that stuff of
the walls about him, but the sleek
touch of treated Steel and know that
pipe had reached him.
The next day Hicks had found his
matches-only four of them-but
enough. He saw the walls of his cell,
81, nd 6nr q
him as the last spark burned his fingers
a shoe and the tattered edges of over
alls. That match mercfully sobbed
out it's light in sorrow and the entombed
man talked quickly into the pipe that
he might not think.
Twelve Days of Torture
Twelve days of living on milk, taken
through the pipe, or sitting in the same
posture, never moving, never changing.
Two hundred and lightweight hours OF
death, cons of indescribable blackness,
with eyes staring straight ahead and
breath coming slowly.
Since the pipe reached him the noise
has been enough to relieve the night
of blackness and silence, but Hicks has
lost his grip of nerve.
The cold has reached him through the
thin wall of rock which the rescuers
dare not now touch for fear of send
ing the granite uCWH upOll lie hSou VI
that unfortunate man.
For Gods sake come quick; am
freezing! Oh, God, don't let me die
nowl"
The wailing cry came necessarily
from the pipe yesterday, the cry Of a
man dying with Life catching at his
heart and soul and seeing 'eath, grim
and horrible, reckoning him on.
All that hell of waiting may be lost
and no one knows it better than Hicks.
All those days of dread and Aope of
struggle against death may be for
nothing. The men may reach him to-
day, but he may be stark, ravi;lg mad.
Hicks knows this, too.
If the men who are fighting for him
win and rag the cha-faced, clamny
wreck of human being from its living
grave, then a miracle will be accom-
plished. If they fail, then dying man
will turn slowly upon his side and, ours
ing in the mania of death the earth
that gave him life and the sun that
shone upon him to light him to his
hell, will pass down into the unknown
of eternity