The Monmouth inquirer., 1923-08-02

/ animal. III Lu6 SASANC1AOAS e-A~S - Q -
directions. The old jimmy mule headed
straight for Finnegan. Finnegan tried
to wave her off but she wouldn't wave.
He wasn't sure whether she bumped
him over with her nose or just knock
ed him down with the shrek she Yves
emitting when she strHck.
The hundred Slavish mamas gave
sbrieks of their own as the superin
tendent's cap bounded off his head
and plunged It's lamp into oblivion
Before Finnegan could recover the cap
or his wits the lantern that usually
hung in the chamber had been kicked
to smithereens.
If all the words in all languages for
noise. tumult, racket, hubbub, crash,
and din were heaped in a pile and
printed In poster headline type, they
might do to describe the blowing up
OF a powder mill, the bursting of 2
huge dam, the eruption of volcano:
they would not do justice to a little
piece Of what Finnegan heard.
Fortunately the women huddled to-
gether. Fortunately, their screams
frightened the mules to seek the great
est possible distance from the huddle.
Fortunately there was comparative
" clear track around the room. The
shrieking. panic stricken beasts raced
round and round it.
J Dazed, Finnegan felt in his pockets
for a match. He found one. He dis
/ covered at the same time, that 1t was
the only one he had. He had but half
recovered from the shock of his fall,
and he foolishly tried to strike it on
the earth floor of the mine. That end
ed the match.
He was trapped-trapped in abys-
NAL darkness and hellish din. He dar-
ed not move towards the wall of the
chamber in search of the main pas
sage. The circling wheel of mad
mules surrounded him. He could not
hope to calm the panic stricken WON
en- and their bowling offspring since
he could not make his voice heard
by himself.
A great wave of rage rolled over
him and up from within him. 1t was
all Riley's fault. Riley had been insub-
4 ordinate, had refused to come down
here himself, and had created a situa-
/ ton where Finnegan must come or
! lose what he chose now to regard as
his self respect, not to mention all yes
tige of discipline. And even now Riley
was up there in the bright sunlight,
laughing in gfee over his superioT's
fate.
In the blind darkness Finnegan
waved his arms upward and added to
the noise all the curses he could call to
mind. He meant them for Riley. In
the midst of them plump hunkey
mama, evidently lodging mule, or
what she thought was mule, STUN
bled and pumped down into his lap.
He quit cursing Riley. The hunkey
mama had misjudged his lap, and 10
Gated it where the pit of his stomach
really was.
Finnegan knew then that it was all
up with him. He lay on the floor and
waited for the final hoof of a mule
that would end his fair young life. His
anger turned to sadness.
1t was pitiful thus to be cut off in
the very flower Of his manhood. 1t was
terrible to die like this In the dark,
with only internal shAeks to speed his
soul into the vast beyond He had
never felt as sorry for anyone before
as he now felt for himself.
Gradually he realized that he need
ed no further blow to finish him. He
was already mortally hurt. His senses
were growing dim-or, rather, the one
sense that was being most worked. He
could not hear the din as he had heard
it. The shrieks of the women were
weakening In their result upon his i'm
paired facuItis. The walls of the chill
dren had faded until they were hardly
more than wheezes and whoops. Even
the braying of the mules sounded far
ther-and farther-and farther away.
A few moments more and
Finnegan sat up straight. There
was new note in the din. More new
notes were adding.
They were human notes.-the voices
of the women begging for help with
some hope of getting it-and the
voices of men. Yes. there was Riley's
voice
And there was Riley! Riley!
God bless him! Was ever sight so
good for human eyes as his stubby
beard and pale blue eyes and old over
alls and-all the rest of the big, strap
ping, husky, cranky old scoundrel?
"Gowan" He was snarling at the
women, who seemed ready to fall upon
him and divide him up and take him
home for souvenirs. Eyer all right!
What the divviPs the matter wild yez?
It's pretty mess we've made of things,
| driVin all the mules crazy with yer
bpatin', And look at thin carts! And
livery dom mule gone galivatin' into
the tunnelsi It's days work for ten
men ye've made me wild catchin' 'em
In here"