The Boys of Crawford's Basin Part 26

Between the two, half-filled with well-packed snow, lay a deep crevice, which, bearing away down hill to our right, was presently lost among the trees.

"From the lay of the land," said Joe, "I should judge that this is the head of the creek which runs through Big Reuben's gorge--Peter told us it started up here, you remember. And from the look of it," he continued, "I should suppose that the shortest way of getting over to the slide would be to cut right across here to the left through the trees. But that is out of the question: the snow would be ten feet over our heads; so our only way is to cross this gulch and go on up as far as we can along the top of the next ridge, as Peter said."

"Then we shall have to leave the ponies here," I remarked, "and do the rest on foot: there's no getting them across this place."

Accordingly, we abandoned our ponies at this point, and having with some difficulty scrambled across the gulch ourselves, we ascended to the ridge of the next spur and continued our way upward. This spur was crowned by an outcrop of rock, which being much broken up and the cracks being filled with snow, made the walking not only difficult but dangerous. By taking care, however, we avoided any accident, and, after a pretty stiff climb arrived at the foot of a perpendicular ledge of rocks which cut across our course at right angles--the little cliff Peter had told us we should find barring our way.

Here, turning to the left, as directed, we skirted along the base of the cliff, sometimes on the rocks and sometimes on the edge of the snow which rested against them, until at last we reached a point whence we could look right down the steep slope of the slide.

Covered with loose shale, the slope for its whole length appeared to be smooth and of uniform pitch, except that about three-quarters of the way down we could see a line of snow hummocks stretching all across its course, indicating pretty surely that here had grown a strip of trees, which being most of them broken off short had caught and held a little snow against the stumps.

"There's where we want to get, Joe!" I cried, eagerly. "Down there to that row of stumps! This is a limestone country--all this shale, you see, is composed of limestone chips--but that tree-root in which we found the chunk of galena held two or three bits of porphyry as well, you remember, and if it did come from down there, there's a good chance that that line of stumps indicates the course of a porphyry outcrop, as Peter guessed, cutting across the limestone formation."

"Well, what of that?" asked Joe. "Is a porphyry outcrop a desirable thing to find? Is it an 'indication'?"

"It's plain you're no prospector, Joe," said I, laughing; "and though I don't set up to know much about it myself, I've learned enough from hearing Tom Connor talk of 'contact veins' to know that if there's a vein in the neighborhood the most promising place to look for it is where the limestone and the porphyry come in contact."

"Is that so?" cried Joe, beginning to get excited. "Then let us get down there at once; for, ten to one, that's where our big tree came from."

"That's all very well," said I. "The row of stumps is our goal, all right, but how are we going to get down there? I don't feel at all inclined to trust myself on this loose shale. The pitch is so steep that I should be afraid of its starting to slide and carrying us with it, when I don't see anything to stop us from going down to the bottom and over the precipice at the lower end."

"That's true," Joe a.s.sented. "No, it won't do to trust ourselves on this treacherous shale; it's too dangerous. What we must do, Phil, is to get across to that long spur of rocks over there and climb down that. It will bring us close down to the line of stumps."

The spur to which Joe referred, connecting at its upper end with the cliff at the foot of which we were then standing, reached downward like a great claw to within a short distance of the chain of snow hummocks, and undoubtedly our safest course would be to follow it to its lowest extremity and begin our descent from there. It was near the further edge of the slide, however, and to get over to it we had to take a course close under the cliff, holding on to the rocks with our right hands as we skirted along the upper edge of the shaly slope. It was rather slow work, for we had to be careful, but at length we reached our destination, when, turning once more to our left, we scrambled down the spur to its lowest point.

"Now, Phil," cried Joe, "you stay where you are while I go down. No use to take unnecessary risks by both going down together. You sit here, if you don't mind, and wait for me; I won't be any longer than I can help."

"All right," said I; "but take the end of the rope in your hand, Joe.

No use for _you_ to take unnecessary risks, either."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE SHOT DOWNWARD LIKE AN ARROW"]

"That's a fact," replied my companion. "Yes, I'll take the rope."

With a shovel in one hand and the end of the rope in the other, Joe started downward, but presently, having advanced as far as the rope extended, he dropped it and went cautiously on, using the shovel-handle as a staff. Down to this point he had had little difficulty, but a few steps further on, reaching presumably the change of formation we had expected to find, where the smooth, icy rock beneath the shale was covered only by an inch or so of the loose material, the moment he stepped upon it Joe's feet slipped from under him and falling on his back he shot downward like an arrow.

I held my breath as I watched him, horribly scared lest he should go flying down the whole remaining length of the slope and over the precipice; but my suspense lasted only a few seconds, for presently a great jet of snow flew into the air, in the midst of which Joe vanished.

The next moment, however, he appeared again, hooking the snow out of his neck with his finger, and called out to me:

"All right, Phil! I fell into a hole where a tree came out. I'm going to shovel out the snow now. Don't let go of that rope whatever you do."

So saying he set to work with the shovel, making the snow fly, while I sat on the rocks a hundred feet above, watching him. In about a quarter of an hour he looked up and called out to me:

"I've found it, Phil. Right in this hole. It's the hole our big tree came out of, I believe. Can't tell how much of a vein, though, the ground is frozen too hard. Bring down the pick, will you? Come down to the end of the rope and throw it to me."

In response to this request, having first tied a knot in the end of the rope and fixed it firmly in a crack in the rocks, I went carefully down as far as it reached, when, with a back-handed fling, I sent the pick sliding down to my partner.

"Don't you think I might venture down and help you, Joe?" I called out.

"No!" replied Joe with much emphasis. "You stay where you are, Phil. It would be too risky. I can do the work by myself all right."

Still keeping my hold on the rope, therefore, I sat myself down on the shale, while Joe, pick in hand, went to work again. Pretty soon he straightened up and said:

"I've found the vein all right, Phil; I don't think there can be a doubt of it. Good strong vein, too, I should say."

"How wide is it?" I asked.

"Can't tell how wide it is. I've found what I suppose to be the porphyry hanging-wall, right here"--tapping the rock with his pick--"and I've been trying to trench across the vein to find the foot-wall, but the shale runs in on me faster than I can dig it out."

"What do you propose to do, then, Joe?"

"Try one of those other holes further along and see if I can't find the vein again and get its direction. You sit still there, Phil. I shall want you to give me a hand out of here soon."

With extreme caution he made his way along the line of stumps, helping himself with the pick in one hand and the shovel in the other, until, about a hundred yards distant, he arrived at another hole where a tree had been rooted out, and here he went to work again. This time he kept at it for a good half hour, but at length he laid down his tools, and for a few minutes occupied himself by building with loose pieces of rock a little pillar about eighteen inches high.

"Can you see that, Phil?" he shouted.

"Yes, I can see it," I called back.

This seemed to be all Joe wanted, for he at once picked up his tools again, and with the same caution made his way back to the first hole.

"What's your pile of stones for, Joe?" I asked.

"Why, I found the vein again, hanging-wall and all, and I set up that little monument so as to get the line of the vein from here."

Taking out of his pocket a little compa.s.s we had brought for the purpose, he laid it on the rock, and sighting back over his "monument,"

he found that the vein ran northeast and southwest.

"Phil," said he, "do you see that dead pine, broken off at the top, with a hawk's nest in it, away back there on the upper side of the gulch where we left the ponies?"

"Yes," I replied, "I see it. What of it?"

"The line of the vein runs right to that tree, and I propose we get back and hunt for it there. I don't want to set up the location-stake here: this place is too difficult to get at and too dangerous to work in. So I vote we get back to the dead tree and try again there. What do you say?"

"All right," I replied. "We'll do so."

"Very well, then I'll come up now."

But this was more easily said than done. Do what he would, Joe could not get up to where I sat, holding out to him first a hand and then a foot.

He tried walking and he tried crawling, but in vain; the rock beneath the shale was too steep and too smooth and too slippery. At length, at my suggestion, Joe threw the shovel up to me, when, on my lying flat and reaching downward as far as I could stretch, he succeeded in hooking the pick over the shoulder of the shovel-blade, after which he had no more difficulty.

"Well, Joe," said I, when we had safely reached the rocks again, "it's just as well we didn't both go down together after all, isn't it?"

"That's what it is," replied my partner, heartily. "If you had tried to come down with me we should both probably have tumbled into that hole together, and there we should have had to stay till somebody came up to look for us; and there'd have been precious little fun in that. Did it scare you when I went scooting down the slide on my back?"

"It certainly did," I replied. "I expected to have to go down to Peter's house and lug _you_ home next--if there was any of you left."

"Well, to tell you the truth, I was a bit scared myself. It was a great piece of luck my falling into that hole. It's a dangerous place, this, and the sooner we get out of it the better; so, let us start back, at once."