The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1922-01-05

and managed TO wear out the IivelOng
day at it.
1t took me all the afternoon and
then some to get the machinery cleaned
and tinkered up and reassembled. In
paving over the supplies in the mine
storeroom-stuff left by the former Cd
eratOrs-we had found an acetyIene
flare torch and a can Of carbide and I
rugged the torch so hat / could 90 on
working after dark.
1t was along about nine o'clock when
] got the dcep-wells ready to run and
freshened up the fires and turned the
steam on. In curious contrast to the
care which had peer taken to provide
n discharge outlet for the centrifugals,
the Cornish pumps had merely an iron
trough which ran to a ditch leading
down to the bench below the mine
buildings. After a few minutes Of the
clanking and banging, the water began
to come. 1t was horribly smelling
stuff, thick and d~iscolored evidences
sufficient that it was coming from the
bottom Of the mine. The two pumps
together were lifting about an eight
inch stream, and 1t occurred to me at
once that If / could set the centrifu-
gals going at the same time, the mass
attack might accomplish what the
piece-meal assault couldn't.
Throwing In the clutch that drove
the big rOtaries, l ran up against what
Daddy would have called a "circum-
stance" There wasn't power enough
to drive both sets Of pumps coupled
In together; at least, not with the
steam pressure the boilers were car
rying. Thinking to get more power by
pushing the fires a bit harder, I went
to the detached boiler room to stoke
up, leaving the deep wells Changing
away I'm the shafthouse. / had fred
two Of the furnaces and was at work
on the third when a series Of grind
ing crashes In the machinery sent me
flying to find out what was going
wrong.
What was happening-what had al
ready happened-was a plenty. AS I
have said, the great Cornish water
lifters were driven through a train
of gearing. When l reached the scene,
the steam engine vas still running
smoothly, but the pumps had stopped.
The reason didn't have to be looked
for with a microscope. The gear-train
was a wreck, with one of the wheels
smashed into bits, and half Of the
cogs stripped from Its mesh-mate, If
that's what you'd call 1t.
Mechanically / stopped the engine
deep-wells were done fOr-there was
no question about that; they'd never
u again until a new set of gears
should be installed. That much deter
mined, l began to look for the cause
of the calamity. Naturally, I supposed
that a cracked cog in one of the
wheels had given way, and with this
for a starter, the general smash would
follow as a matter of course. But
a careful and even painful scrutiny CT
the wreckage failed to reveal the cog
with the ancient fracture. Each break
was new and fresh and clean; there
wasn't a sign of an old flaw In any
one Of them.
l think l must have knelt there
under the gear train for a half-hOur or
more, handling the fragments Of iron
and fitting them together. 1t IA like
a child's brOken-block puzzle, and at
Tor a time rn. .hIo % lou oil tho
larger bits out upon the floor in their
proper relation to one another. 1t was
In the g%round-up debris remaining that
l found something which suddenly
made me see red. Battered into shape
lessness, but still clearly recognizable,
were the crushed disjecta membra of
our twelve-lnch monkey-wrench!
l tried not to go off the handle in a
fit Of mad rage. With q sort of forced
calm l considered every beam and pro-
tiously have left the wrench, and from
which 1t might have Jared off to fall
into the gears. There vas no such
chance. l had used the wrench In re-
assembling the machinery, but now
that l came to recall all the circum-
stances, I distinctly remembered hav-
ing put 1t, together with the other
tools, on the little work bench back
of the engine. The alternative con-
caision was, therefore, fairly newt
able. While l was firing the furnaces,
somebOdy-and doubtless somebody
who had been watching for the oppor-
tunity-had taken advantage Of the
moment when my back was turned and
had thrown the wrench into the gears.
1t was the final straw. There was
only one person on the Cipnabar res
ervation who could have any motive
for w~recking my machinery and while
I was banking the fires and setting
things In order for the night. l charted
my course, as the navigatOrs say. The
dawn of another day, l told myself.
would schedule the ultimate limit. I'm
less he should prove to be a good bit
quicker with his gun than / was with
my fists, Fullerton was due to get
the m~an-handling he seemed to he ach-
ing for; and beyond that. he'd quit
the Cinnabar, IL l should have to tie
him on his horse and fog the beast
~-. A. nv