Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Coal mines and mining -- Juvenile fiction; Foundlings -- Juvenile fiction; Scranton (Pa.) -- Juvenile fiction
But, after a while, he took heart again; courage came back to him; the
belief that he would be finally saved grew stronger in his mind; hope
burned up brightly in his breast, and the pride of parentage within
him filled him with ambition to do what lay in his power to accomplish
his own deliverance. It was little he could do, indeed, save to wait
with patience and in hope until outside help should come, but this
little, he resolved, should be done with a will, as befitted his birth
and position.
He folded the precious bit of paper he had found and fastened it in
his waistcoat pocket so that he should not lose it as Robert Burnham
had lost it; then he took up his lamp and went back through the
half-walled entrance, down the chamber and along the side-heading to
the air-way door where Jasper had been left.
There was a small can of oil sitting just inside the door-way. It
was the joint property of Ralph and the door-boy. It was fortunate,
he thought, that he had selected that place for it, as he was now in
great need of it. He filled his lamp, from which the oil had become
nearly exhausted, and then passed out through the door.
The mule was still there and uttered a hoarse sound of welcome when he
saw the boy.
"I found somethin' up there, Jasper," said Ralph, as he sat down
on the bench and began to pat the beast's neck again, "somethin'
wonderful; I wish I could tell you so you could understand it; it's
too bad you can't, Jasper; I know you'd be glad."
The mule seemed to recognize the pleasantness of the lad's voice and
to enjoy it, and for a long time Ralph sat there petting him and
talking to him.
Finally, he became aware that the air about him was growing to be very
bad. It made him feel sick and dizzy, and caused his heart to beat
rapidly.
He knew that he must go farther in. He thought, however, to make an
attempt to get out toward the shaft first. It might be that it had
grown clearer out there, it might be that the rescuers were already
working down toward him. He started rapidly down the heading, but
before he had gone half-way to the head of the plane, the smoke and
the foul air were so dense and deadly that he had to stop and to crawl
away from it on his hands and knees. He was greatly exhausted when he
reached the air-way door again, and he sat on the bench for a long
time to rest and to recover.
But he knew that it was dangerous to remain there now, and, taking the
can of oil with him, he started slowly up the heading. He did not know
how soon he should get back here, and when the oil in his lamp should
give out again he desired to be able to renew it.
The mule was following closely behind him. It was a great comfort,
too, to have a living being with him for company. He might have been
shut up here alone, and that would have been infinitely worse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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