The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1917-09-07

their fellow-men. If he could only by
and by see his hopes justified by sue
cess, his happiness would be complete.
And there were thoughts personal as
well as general. If he died, whether
successful or not, men would tell about
his endeavor. She would hear. 1t
came to him afterward, when he
learned how she had looked down upon
him as he ran, that he had somehow
felt her presence, not presence I'M
polling him to look up, but presence
driving him on. He lost his hat, he tore
off his long coat and threw it aside
as he plunged on with his precious bag
in his hand. He did not dare to look
at his watch, he did not stop for any
thing, but it seemed that he must have
spent hours in that mad scramble over
the 'water-covered rocks. He heaved a
deep breath Of relief when he rounded
the mesa and struck the trail. Bad as
was the going, it was nothing to what
they had passed over.
Presently he broke out into the open
slope and there before him was the
rounded curve of the hogback, to gain
which he had risked so much. Were
they in time? Yes, the water in the
lake was not flowing, it was only ris-
ing. Evidently the dam still held. He
ran along it till he reached the mar
roWest part of it, twenty feet wide
between water-covered valley and
sharply descending rayine. The short
est separation between Picket Wire
and the Kicking Horse! The water in
the lake was within three feet of the
crest. The rain was coming down
steadily. He could realize by the wa
ter level where he stood that it must
be tapping the top of the dam now,
or little above it. He had five min
| utes-ten at most. He was still in
time. The thoughts came to him as he
ran. And as he saw the place again
he made his instant plan.
| He laid the dynamite down just as
Murphy and Funaro reached him and
stood painting, their heavy breathing,
the sweat mingling with the rain in
their wet faces, evidencing their ex-
haustion. From Murphy, who had been
the faster, Meade took the two tripod
legs, stout oak slaves about an inch
and half thick, with sharp metal
points. He jammed them down into
the ground about five feet from the
edge of the Kicking Horse ravine and
about fifteen feet apart.
"Holes, there" he shouted, "deep
| enough for five cartridges"
Funaro nodded. He knew exactly
what to do. Murphy had often seen
the explosive gang at work. He was
quick-witted and he had only to follow
the Italians actions. The work was
simple. Selling their spades, the two
men cut into the sod, using the pick
to dislodge small powders and break
up the earth. The soil was light and
porous, and it had been well soaked
by the rain. After they had made an
excavation about two feet deep, they
laid aside their shovels, and with the
iron range pole as starter and the
bigger tripod stakes to follow, they
made two deep holes in the ground,
forcing the pole and then the stake
into the earth, which the continuing
rain tended to soften more and more.
They made these holes about four feet
deep below the excavation, driving in
and twisting and churning the stakes
by main strength.
They could by no means have accom-
plished this save for the softening as
sistance of the rain and the furious
energy they applied. They had been
working since four In the morning at
the dam, they had made that difficult
run at headlong speed, yet they labored
like men possessed. They even wasted
breath to call challengingly and pro-
vokingly and to set forth their progress
each to the other. In almost less time
than it takes to tell it, they had COM
pleted the holes and so informed the
engineer triumphantly.
Meade, as usual, had reserved to
himself the more dangerous, if less ar
| duous task. Covering himself with
big Murphy's discarded slicker, which
fell over him like a shelter tent as he
knelt down, he opened the box of
decorators, selected one, and attached
the fuse in position carefully. Then
he unfolded the paper about one of the
cartridges and placed the detonator,
| wrapping the paper around it there
| after. He prepared two cartridges
this way with the greatest care.
The men rapidly but carefully cut
Sits in the covering of the cartridges,
and lowered four cartridges down each
hole, forcing them gently into place
| with the butt ends Of the tripod stakes
and COMPRISING them SO that they
filled the holes completely. Then
Meade placed his two prepared sticks
with the decorators on top of the other
four. He cut the fuse to the proper
length in each case, and, keeping it
| carefully covered with the raincOat, he
held it while the others filled in the
holes and the excavations and care
fully tamped down the earth. All that
remained was the lighting of the fuse.
And then? Would the dynamite go
| off? With fuses it was uncertain in its
| action at best, and although these
fuses were supposed to be so prepared
as to be Independent of weather con-
| ditiOns, more often than not rain
| spoiled blast. If this blast failed it
was good-by dam-good-by everything.
Meade drew out from the pocket of
his flannel shirt box of matches. He
had to light the farther cartridge fuse,
then run fifteen feet and light the
nearer one. and then make his escape.
He had made tha naarnr fuSe q IittIa