knew that the men were in no humor to be trifled with, and there was little doubt but the strangling would follow unless he obeyed. It was possible to delay the explanations for a few seconds, and thus give Fred so much more time to reach the lower level.
With this view he coughed and struggled after the vice-like pressure upon his throat was removed, to make it appear as if it was only with the greatest difficulty he could breathe, and fully a moment was thus gained when his captor kicked him two or three times as he said:
"None of that shamming. Speak quick, or I'll give you something to cough for."
"The fellow who was with me went back to the slope."
"How long ago?"
"When we first knew you were here."
"That's a lie, for we heard you talking."
"What makes you ask any questions if you know better than I?"
"When did he leave?"
"I told you before. Of course he waited long enough to find out how many there were of you."
At least five minutes had passed from the time Sam was first questioned, and this must have given Fred a safe start.
"Go after him, Zack, and take Jake with you," the spokesman said, sharply. "Travel the best you know how, for everything depends on overtakin' him."
The two men started at full speed, and the leader asked Sam:
"Where is Joe Brace?"
"Brace?" Sam repeated, as if in bewilderment, "Why he didn't come with us."
"Wasn't he in this place when you got here?"
"Of course not. I'm most certain I saw him in the village just after the works were shut down."
There was a ring of truth in the boy's tones which could not be mistaken, and the rioters appeared satisfied.
"Abe, go an' tell Billings that Brace got out of here in time to warn Wright, an' let him know what we've struck. Don't waste any time now."
When the messenger had departed the leader beckoned to another member of the party, and said as he pointed to Sam:
"Take care of him. The whole thing would soon be up if he should get away."
"What'll I do with the cub?" the man asked in a surly tone.
"Anything so that you keep him safe. A thump on the head will help straighten matters, if he tries to kick up a row."
"Where are you going?"
"We'll foller up Zack an' Jake, an' if they catch the boy there'll be nothin' to prevent our finishin' the business we came for."
After a brief consultation, which was carried on in such low tones that Sam could not distinguish a word, the men started down the drift, leaving the prisoner and his captor alone.
Sam knew the man was named Bart Skinner, and that he was an intimate friend of Billings'. He had the reputation of being quarrelsome and intemperate, and was exactly the sort of person one would expect to see among such a party as were now committing lawless deeds.
"I don't count on wastin' much time with you," Bart said when the footsteps of his companions had died away in the distance. "I'll leave you in a safe place pervidin' you behave; but let me hear one yip, an' I'll try the weight of my fist. Come along."
No attempt had been made to fetter Sam. The rioters understood that it was impossible for him to escape, and probably looked upon it as a clear waste of labor.
When Bart spoke he seized the boy by each arm, forcing him through the aperture, and then retaining his hold as he followed. Once in the tunnel the two pressed on at a rapid gait toward the shaft, Sam being obliged to walk a few paces in advance, until they arrived at a point where a tunnel had been run at right angles with the drift; but which was shut off by stout wooden doors.
"We'll stop here a bit," Bart said, as he tried to unfasten the rusty bolts which had not been used for many years.
Believing that he might as well accept his capture with a good grace instead of sulking over it, Sam did what he could to assist in opening the doors.
When the task was finally accomplished Bart motioned for the boy to enter first, and after assuring himself by the flame of his lamp that the air was pure, he obeyed.
"Go on a bit, an' see if it is a drift, or only a stable."
"They've exhausted the vein after following it about thirty feet," Sam replied, as he walked the full length, and when on the point of turning to retrace his steps the doors were closed with a clang, while from the outside could be heard the mocking voice of Bart as he shoved the bolts into their sockets:
"It's deep enough for what I want to use it. You'll do no mischief while here, an' I reckon the bosses will hunt a long time before findin' you."
Then Sam heard the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps, and thought to himself as he vainly shook the timbers:
"If those fellows overtook Fred I'm likely to stay here till the mine is flooded."
CHAPTER VIII
THE PURSUIT
When Fred left Sam to defend the breach in the wall he fully realized the necessity of giving the alarm quickly, and did not stop to light his lamp until after scrambling over the barrier of coal.
Once this had been done he ran at his best pace, guided by the wooden tracks on which the cars were hauled, until he was obliged to halt from sheer lack of breath. A dull sound in the rear caused him to push on again very quickly, for he believed Sam had found it necessary to discharge his weapons.
On making the second halt a few moments later, he detected a certain scurrying noise which at first he fancied might have been caused by the rats; but immediately came the voice of a man, and he knew the rioters were pursuing him.
"I'll get a pretty heavy dose if they catch me," he muttered, hurrying once more, and when the journey was half finished it became apparent that the pursuers were gaining upon him.
The lives of others beside his own might be sacrificed, if he did not win the race, and he bent all his energies to the undertaking. Once he stumbled, almost fell; but luckily recovered his balance, and darted on, forced to run upon the ties because the space either side was so narrow.
Nearer and nearer came the men until he could hear their heavy breathing, and one of them shouted:
"Halt, or we'll shoot!"
Knowing that they might have gotten possession of his gun he had reason to believe the threat would be carried into execution; but he said to himself:
"It's better to be killed by a bullet than take what they choose to give," and the command only served to quicken his pace.
Minute after minute passed; no shot was fired, his breath came in quick gasps, and it seemed impossible to continue the flight many seconds longer. The pursuers were now within a few yards, and nothing could be seen ahead. Whether the lower level was close at hand or a mile away he could not decide; but in his despair he shouted for help.
"Pick
