The Ocala Evening Star

The Girl, a
Horse and
a Dog
FRANCIS LYNDE
CHAPTER XVII
Tit for Tat

That word "thunderbolt" is hardly
a figure of speech. The thing that hit
us couldn't be compared to anything
milder than thunder and lightning.
There was a flash, a rending, ripping
roar as if the solid earth were splitting
in two, and the air was filled with
flying fragments and splinters. Air, I
say, but the acrid, choking gas which
filled the shaft-house could scarcely be
called air.

"Dynamite-that's what they fetched
in that wagon!" gurgled the old man
at my side, and I could have shouted
for joy at the mere sound of his voice,
since it was an assurance that he
hadn't been killed outright.

"It's only a question of a little time,
now, Daddy," I prophesied. "What
you said yesterday-that Bullerton
would try to get possession without
destroying the property-no longer
holds good. He has evidently decided
that we've got to be ousted, even at
the expense of building a new shaft-
house and installing new machinery.
Why has he changed his mind, when
he knows that he could starve us out
in a few days?"

"I been thinkin' about that, right
p'intedly, Stannie. Shouldn't wonder
if somethin's in the wind-somethin'
we don't know about."

"Then there's another thing," I put
in. "Supposing, just for the sake of
argument, that our first guess was
right: that he did take Jeanie to
Angels three days ago and that they
were married there. You know your
daughter, Daddy, and I know her, a
little. Nobody but an idiot would sup-
pose that she'd live with Bullerton as
his wife for a single minute if he
makes himself your murderer."

"It sure does look that-away to a
man up a tree," admitted the stout
old fighter.

"I'm hanging on to the little hope
like a dog to a root, Daddy," I con-
fessed. "If I can only keep on believ-
ing that they're not married, I can put
up a better fight, or be snuffed out-if
I have to be-with a good few less
heart-burnings."

But at this the old man, who, no
longer ago than the yesterday, had
seemed to lean definitely toward the
no-marriage hypothesis, suddenly
changed front.

"Don't you go to bankin' on any-
thing like that, Stannie, son," he said
in a tone of deep discouragement.
"Charley Bullerton's a liar, from the
place where they make liars for a
livin', and 'tain't goin' to be no trick
a-tah for him to make Jeanie, and a
lot o' other folks, b'lieve that we
blowed ourselves up with our own
dynamite. No, sir: don't you go to
bankin' on that."

"Then you do believe that Jeanie
went with Bullerton?"

"Looks like there ain't nothing else
left to believe," he asserted dolefully.
"Look at it for yourself, son: she's
been gone three whole days. If she
hadn't gone with him-and the good
Lord only knows where else she could
have gone-don't you reckon she'd 've
been back here long afore this? No,
Stannie; we been lettin' the wish it
was' run away with the 'had to be.' I
reckon we just got to grit our teeth,
son, and tough it out the best we can."

During this waiting interval, which
seemed like hours and was probably
only a few minutes, we were momen-
tarily expecting another crash. It did
not come; but in due course of time
we heard a stir outside and then
voices, and one of the voices, which
was not Bullerton's said: "I'll bet
that ca'tridge smoked 'em out good an'
plenty, cap'n. Gimme th' ax, Tom, till
we bu'st open the door an' have n
squint at 'em."

Just at that moment a submerging
wave of depression surged over me
and shoved me down so deep that I
think possibly if Bullerton had called
out and demanded our surrender I
should have been tempted to tell him
that I was not so much of a hog as
not to know when I had enough. But
the old man squeezed in beside me un-
der the arched boiler plate was made
of better fiber; he was game to the
last hair in his beard. With a wild-
Indian yell, he hunched his Winchester
into position and fired once, twice,
thrice, at the door, as rapidly as he
could pump the reloading lever.

A spattering fusillade was the reply
to this, but the aim was bad and the
only result was to set the air of our
prison fortress to buzzing as if a
swarm of angry bees had been turned
loose on us. After this, the raiders
withdrew, so we judged: at all events,
the silence of the dark hour before
daybreak shut down upon us again,
and once more we had space in which
to "gather our minds," as Daddy put
it.

It may be a dastardly confession of
weakness to admit it, but I am free to
say that the prolonged struggle was
gradually undermining my nerve. If
Bullerton had made up his mind to
write off the loss of the mine buildings
and machinery, it was a battle lost for
us. It could be only a question of a
little time, and enough daylight to en-
able the bombers to throw straight,
until we should be buried in the wreck
of the shaft-house and hoist-and with-
out the privilege of dying in a good,
old-fashioned, stand-up fight.

All of this I hastily pointed out to
Daddy Hiram, adding that, for Jeanie's
sake, if for no better reason, he ought
to take his chance of staying upon
earth. As long as I live I shall
always have a high respect for the
wrath of a mild-mannered man. The
old prospector was fairly Berserk,
mad, foaming at the mouth, and short
of dragging him out by main strength
there was no way of making him let
go.

"No, sir: I done promised your
gran'paw 'at I'd stand by for him, and
he paid me money for doin' it. When
them hellions get this here mine,
they're goin' to dig a hole somewheres
and bury me afterward," was all I
could get out of him.

We were not given very much more
time for discussion, or fer anything
else. The first faint graying dawn was
coming, and with the partial lighten-
ing of the inner gloom, we craned our
necks--like a double-headed turtle
peering out of its shell--and got a
glimpse of the damage done by the in-
itial thunderbolt. We saw it without
any trouble: a great hole torn in the
sheetiron roof directly over the hoist
and shaft mouth. Knowing the use
and effect of explosives pretty well,
Daddy said that the bomb had gone off
prematurely; had exploded before it
had fairly lighted upon the roof.

"If it hadn't-If it had been layin'
on the roof when it went off-we
wouldn't be lookin' up at that hole
right now, Stannie, my son. We'd be
moggin' up the golden stair and a-won-
dering how much farther it was to the
New Jerusalem, and what kind o'
harps they was goin' to give us when
we got there. We sure would."

We didn't keep our heads out very
long. While we were staring up at
the hole and at the patch of sky be-
yond it, a small dark object with a
smoke-blue comet's tail trailing be-
hind it crossed our line of sight, and
we ducked and held our breath-or at
least, I held mine. The crash came
almost immediately, and it was fol-
lowed in swift succession by a second
and a third. Luckily, none of the
three hit the shaft-house, nor, indeed
fell very near to it: and this uncer-
tainty of aim told us where the attack
was coming from. The bomb throw-
ers were posted somewhere on the
steep slope of the mountain above us;
the slope which I have described as
running up from the brink of the
abrupt cliff overlooking the mine
plant.

"They'll get the range, after a
while," Daddy grunted. "And when
they do, I reckon it'll be good-by, fair
world, for a couple of us and one
mighty good dog. I'm a-tellin' you,
Stannie, son, the shot that comes
down through that hole fixes us a-
plenty. Sufferin' Methuselah! what-
all is the folks down yonder at "Tro-
pia a-dreamin' about, to let all this
bangin' and whangin' go on up here
without comin' up to find out what's
makin' it?"

(Continued Tomorrow)