Southern States -- History -- 1865-1877 -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
The rest was a confused dream. He was conscious for a moment of the
weight being lifted from him, and he was sinking into the water as if
into a soft couch. He thought some one clutched him, but he knew
nothing more.
* * * * *
Terpsichore was out on the street when the rumor of the accident reached
her. Any accident always came home to her, and she was prompt to do what
she could to help, in any case. But this was Mr. Keith's mine, and rumor
had it that he was among the lost. Terpsichore was not attired for such
an emergency; when she went on the streets, she still wore some of her
old finery, though it was growing less and less of late. She always
acted quickly. Calling to a barkeeper who had come to his front door on
hearing the news, to bring her brandy immediately, she dashed into a
dry-goods store near by and got an armful of blankets, and when the
clerk, a stranger just engaged in the store, made some question about
charging them to her, she tore off her jewelled watch and almost flung
it at the man.
"Take that, idiot! Men are dying," she said. "I have not time to box
your jaws." And snatching up the blankets, she ran out, stopped a
passing buggy, and flinging them into it, sprang in herself. With a nod
of thanks to the barkeeper, who had brought out several bottles of
brandy, she snatched the reins from the half-dazed driver, and heading
the horse up the street that led out toward the mine, she lashed him
into a gallop. She arrived at the scene of the accident just before the
first men rescued reappeared. She learned of Keith's effort to save
them. She would have gone into the mine herself had she not been
restrained. Just then the men came out.
The shouts and cries of joy that greeted so unexpected a deliverance
drowned everything else for a few moments; but as man after man was met
and received half dazed into the arms of his family and friends, the
name of Keith began to be heard on all sides. One voice, however, was
more imperative than the others; one figure pressed to the front--that
of the gayly dressed woman who had just been comforting and encouraging
the weeping women about the mine entrance.
"Where is Mr. Keith?" she demanded of man after man.
The men explained. "He went on to try and find three more men who are
down there--Bluffy and Hennson and his boy."
"Who went with him?"
"No one. He went alone."
"And you men let him go?"
"We could not help it. He insisted. We tried to make him come with us."
"You cowards!" she cried, tearing off her wrap. "Of course, he insisted,
for he is a _man_. Had one woman been down there, she would not have let
him go alone." She sprang over the fencing rope as lightly as a deer,
and started toward the entrance. A cry broke from the crowd.
"She's going! Stop her! She's crazy! Catch her!"
Several men sprang over the rope and started after her. Hearing them,
Terpsichore turned. With outstretched arms spread far apart and blazing
eyes, she faced them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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