nk, when I was violently knocked
down. In falling I struck my head against the rough wall, cutting myself
badly over the left eye. I struggled to my feet dazedly, the blood
streaming down over my face. I had mined long enough to know just what
had happened. In some way your father had prematurely set off his blast.
I started toward him, but the heavy powder smoke drove me back. I dropped
to my knees to get the air--it's always best near the floor--and in
a moment a second explosion came. I snatched the jug of water and began
crawling toward Bill on all fours. I called again and again, but no
answer came. When I finally reached him I felt faint and sick. I found
him nearly completely buried in a heap of stone. He was unconscious,
and never spoke to me again. After two hours of tremendous effort, I was
able to lift his poor, broken body in my arms and carry it out. I was
thankful then that he was unconscious and could not feel the pain. By
night I got him to the cabin, and at once set off for Ben's. We came
back by lantern light that night, and led the old horse. We spent the
rest of the night building a crude litter of poles and blankets, and as
soon as it was light we fastened one end of the stretcher to the horse, a
pole on either side of him, and each one of us carried a pole at the
other end. It took an hour for us to get down to the canyon road. In
twelve hours your father died. He regained consciousness just long enough
to talk with Williams briefly. What he said at that time I have never
been able to find out.

"Then followed the awful years of lonesomeness for me, made worse by the
always-present knowledge that I should have been the one to shoot those
blasts and not your father. I wrote your mother fully concerning the
accident, but never received a reply, so have had no word of you since
that time. I've told you how your uncle tried to get possession of the
mine. When I would not sell, he hounded my every step until at last I
left the city and went to work for the D. & P.W. as fireman. I went
through the city often, but very rarely stopped off. But it seems I came
just often enough to keep your uncle too frightened to carry out his plan
concerning the tunnel."

Ham was returning up the trail now, and soon the candles were lighted.
Tad took the lead, followed by Willis, Ham and Old Ben bringing up the
rear. A little inside the entrance, and to one side, a small room had
been cut in the solid granite for a store