THE ROANOKE NEWS, THURSDAY, APRIL 21, 1892.
THE BURNING MINE.
A Story of tho Famous Com
stock Lodo.
In the bonanza days of the Comstock
Lode. Virginia City, Ncv., harbored
two populations, in many ways distinct
irom one another. During the week
the steep streets of the little town, be
intronthe mountainside, were thronped
with crowds of eager speculators, mine
owners, brokers and business men, who
watched the bulletin board for the
latest quotations of the San Francisco
stock exchange, and in offices, saloons
and hotel lobbies dispussed the mar
ket, and exchanged reports and ru
mors concerning the condition of this
or that mine. On Saturday evening
the scene changed. Thousands of
brawny miners then came up from the
deep workings for their one breath of
fresh air and day of leisure; and as the
ffreater number these were Cornish
men, they gave quite a new and for
eign aspect to the place.
Miners, whatever their nationality,
are superstitious. They live close tc
nature in her mysterious moods, and
i, "they acquire a peculiar tendency to
belief in the supernatural. Mines are,
at best, uncanny places, full of deep
shadows and corners of impenetrable
obscurity; full also of queer echoes,
and the creaking and cracking of heavy
timbers, and the rush or trip of water;
while in the deep workings, from ono
to three thousand feet beneath the
surface of the earth, there is an ever
present sense of danger danger from
the immense pressure of tho superin
cumbent mass of rock, and from fire,
which, once started in those labyrinths
of wood-lined passages, spreads with
such appalling rapidity as to baffle
and defeat even the utmost precau
tion and preparation. So it is that the
Comstock miners were given to super
stition. They had many legends and
traditions of fearful things seen in the
deep workings; of spectral appear
ances, of mysterious voices, and, more
than all else, of supernatural warnings
and premonitions prefacing disasters
in the mines. An interesting volume
could have been compiled by anyone
frequenting the favorite saloons of
these honest, old-fashioned miuers, for
on Saturday nights they were in the
habit of "swapping yarns," and the
story to be told here is ono which was
many a time told over pipes and
glasses, on these festal occasions.
John Treloar and James Pennart
were employed in tho Yellow Jacket
mine, and, being closo friends, they
bad arranged so as to be in the same
shift a term nearly equivalent to the
sailor's "watch" at sea. Treloar was
the elder of the two, a sturdy, power
ful, handsome man of thirty, known
and liked for his constant readiness to
befriend his comrades. He was brave
and gentle, modest yet resolute; a man
of action, yet at the same time a man
of sentiment Ilis chum, Jim Pennart,
was five years his junior, and con
trasted with Treloar in many ways.
He was physically robust, but of lighter
frame, good-looking, honest, frank, but
possessing less decision and a timidity
that was almost morbid. Pennart had
an intellect above the merely bodily
toil by which he gained a living. He
bad managed to educate himself par
tially, and knew enough to be dissatis
fied with his position in life. He was
not (Considered selfish, but his was one
of ihe natures which are formed to
- xjiosorb rather than to dispense trust
and affection. John Treloar's loving
friendship was poured out upon him,
and he accepted it as a perfect matter-of-course
manifestation. Had the op
portunity occurred he might have
proved capable of self-sacrifice; as it
was, he seemed merely to let himself
be loved.
Now these two friends did what has
severed many friendships; they fell in
love with the same woman. Alice Min
ton was not a Cornish girl, but of
American parentage and born in Cali
fornia. Left an orphan without means
in her sixteenth year, she had quite
naturally taken to teaching, and had
presently obtained a position in one of
the public schools of Virginia City,
through the interest of an old mining
friend of her father. She had met the
comrades, Treloar and Pennart, at a
ball, where both had danced with her,
and whence both had walked to their
lodgings , in an unaccustomed silence.
The truth was that Jack and Jim were
J3ally hard hit, though neither
thought for a moment that the other
had been impressed by the pretty and
engaging young teacher. Hefore the
mutual discovery occurred, moreover,
both had become still more deeply en
tangled, and when at last the truth
came to light, dismay fell upon each,
as they looked at each other. Treloar
was the first to recover from the shock.
His face was white and his mouth
drawn and set, as he slowly said:
"Jim, lad, do'st 'ee care for her great
ly?" Jim, with pained eyes and trembling
lips, made answer:
"Jack! She's just all there is to me!"
Then silence fell again, and the two
brooded, shielding their faces with
- their hands, no longer looking at each
other.
Treloar's voice, low and yet strained,
at last almost whispered:
"Lad Jim count me out of the run
ning!" Then a pause, and evidently
with difficulty: "Stand thou up to the
rack, boy! I'll do all I can for thee!"
' There was no more talk on the sub
ject Pennart accepted ,tho sacrifice,
utter bW manner, perhaps cheapening
it, for the quieting of his conscience,
with tho assumption that his friend
really did not-caro much for the girL
Treloar did no, appear to feel tho re
nunciation deeply, though he knew in
. his heart of hearts that he had missed
. the best life could hold for him, and
through even his modesty could hardly
- have failcil to realize that Alice looked
upon him with special kindliness. Iiut
, ho kept' his word loyally as ever, and
virhen he -found that by continuing to
visit Alice, though with a single
minded purpose to advance the wooing
of his friend, he wus only complicating
matters by developing the girl's liking
for himself, he. determined to keep
away, and thenceforth did so. Still
Jim Pennart's suit did not prosper.
Alice Minton was no coquette, but a
very candid and ingenuous girl. She
did not dislike Jim, and she did not re
alize that her feeling toward Treloar
was more than one of strong friendli
ness. It was only as his absence became
more marked that she caught herself
pondering upon its possible cause, to
un extent that surprised her when s'ic
reflected upon it. Still the full truth
remained unsuspected by her, and as
Pennart's visits became more frequent
a sense of habitude commended him to
her and she was in a fair way to be
prepared for his offer of marriage,
when something occurrul which
changed the situation, tragiially and
deiinitely.
All the workings on the Comstock
lode are lined und roofed with heavy
framed timbers, from afoot to eighteen
inches square. Even these large beams
have often proved unequal to the tre
mendous strain upon them; and when
they do not give way it is found neces
sary to replace, them at intervals, their
fiber being destroyed by the pressure.
The great heat of the lower working's
also dries these timbers, so that they
become dangerously inflammable; and
when, as sometimes has happened, the
rock itself is at a very high tempera
ture, mere contact with it may set tho
wood on fire.
How the great fire in the Yellow
Jacket mine started will never be
known, for those who were alone
likely to know the truth perished in
that disaster. The foulest rumors were
afterward spread abroad to injure the
superintendent of the mine, notwith
standing that ho had risked his life in
trying to rescue the imprisoned men.
It was tho night before this disaster
that John Treloar dreamed a dream.
He thought he was down in the mine
on the twelve-hundred-foot level, and
that some serious accident but he
could not make out what had hap
pened. Whatever its nature, he found
himself with his mate, Jim, struggling
to reach the shaft; and as they labored
through the passage there was the
sound of a heavy fall, and lo! the way
was blocked before them by the col
lapse of the roof. And he dreamed
that ho and Jim set to work to dig
themselves out. but that his own
strength failed under the heat and foul
air, and that Pennart had to drag him
through the opening they had made.
Toward the end, the dream became
less distinct, and the last he remem
bered was a slowly broadening gleam
of light, which, he thought, represent
ed their approach to the shaft
Then he awoke, and at breakfast he
told his dream; and his comrades did
not like it at all, but shook their heads,
and one or two of them determined
then and there that they would "lay
off" that day and not venture to go
uown tho Yellow Jacket
Now, the strangest part of this
strange story is that on this same night
Alice Minton dreamed about the coun
terpart of John Treloar's dream but
with a difference which can hardly be
regarded ar. fortuitous. She, too, found
herself in the mine, and looking on in
a great agitation. At first she saw
only a crowd of excited miners, shout
ing and running this way and that
Then she seemed to float away from
the crowd, and into a comparatively
silent working, w here two men were
frantically digging ot a heap of rock
and earth that filled the passage in
front of them. She looked and recog
nized the two friends, but she could
not speak or make herself known to
them. Presently a narrow opening
was made between the roof and the
top of the fallen mass, and then the
men seemed to be talking, but she
could not hear what was said. After
a pause, one of the men sank back
upon the ground, and the other climbed
the obstruction and made his way
through the opening. At this moment,
an intense longing to know which of
them had escaped and which was left
behind overcame her, but she was now
unable to distinguish their faces; and
as she seemed to strain forward in or
der to see, a cloud as of vapor or
smoke rolled along the dimly lighted
passage, obscuring the scene com
pletely, and the girl awoke with a
shudder and the name of John Treloar
upon her lips. Then she knew for tho
first time that the feeling in her heart
towards this man was stronger than
that of friendship. At the breakfast
table next morning she, too, told her
dream, and those who heard it recalled
and marveled at the story afterward.
For within twelve hours the great
fire in the Yellow Jacket mine broke
out, and all Virginia City was throng
ing to tho hoisting works, where the
massive engine was being worked at
dangerous speed, and the cage was be
ing almost hurled up and down the
deep shaft, and tho clanging of the
signal-bells, the shouting of orders,
the excitement of the miners, and the
piteous moans and cries of tho women
who had husbands, fathers, brothers
below combined to make a meraoralle
and tragic scene. And now the smoke
grew thicker in the shaft, and those
who looked down saw red points far
down, showing that the iiro was no
longer confined to one level, but had
made its way in the dry timbers far
and wide. So prompt and well-judged
had been the action of the superin
tendent, that three-fourths of the shift
on duty below had been brought up,
for tho most part uninjured, though in
soino cases near to suffocation from tho
smoke and heat. Iiut there were still
twenty-seven men unaCLoisnted for,
and it was known that most of them
hJ lieon in Uio workings farthest
from the shaft. So lor.g as theso miners
WL-re below it was necessary to con
tinue forcing aig rloivn tho Uiine, even
with the t-ertuint.y of increasing the
fire, and now volunteers were called
for to go down, at deadly risk, and
search for the missing ones. The
superintendent announced his inten
tion of heading the rescuo party, and,
though lie was not loved, tho men
j cheered him for 'lis pluck, and pressed
forward with characteristic gallantry
I au 1 devotion to offer themselves for
! tho perilous service. An attempt was
made to clear the shafts of smoke
sufficiently to prevent the suffocation
of the meu while descending, and then
the cage was lowered with such a rush
that old miners held their breath as
they saw the cable spin over the jtul
ley. . ' " ,
Meanwhile the dream had been ful
filling itself in the depths of the mine.
Treloar and Pennart were as usual
working together when the alarm was
given, and it had broken out in the
level they were then in. They quickly
ascertained that the way to the shaft
'was still open, and they started for it
side by side, retaining their tools moro
from forgetfulness than foresight
They were within a hundred yards of
the shaft when Treloar halted and
pulled his mate back, and, as ho did
so. the ground and walls of the passage
shook; there was a rending, grinding
crash of timber, and a great muss of
rock fell from the roof in front of them,
filling the gallery. They stood still
until it seemed that there would be no
further fall, and with scarcely a word,
simultaneously attacked the obstruct
ing mass. Uoth powerful men and
skillful miners, they knew how to ap
ply their tools with most effect, and in
less than half an hour so much had
been cleared away from the top of tho
barrier that it was possible to creep
through closo to the roof. Hut while
they had been working, tho fire had
been advancing in their rear, and sud
den puffs of superheated air, whiffs
of black smoke and un ominous rise in
tho temperature, accompanied by u
sharp, crackling sound, growing con
stantly nearer, warned them that little
time was left them for escape. At this
moment Pennart leaned exhausted on
his pick and turned to Treloar, mean
ing to ask him if it were not best to
stop work and try to free the passage
over the pile of rock. To his conster
nation, he saw John slowly sinking to
tho ground, his face white, as if faint
ing. Pennart sprang to his s.de, and
would have saved him, but Treloar
shook his head, and, after gasping for
breath a moment whispered rather
than spoke:
".'o, no, dear lad! It's no use! I'm
done! Climb thou through the hole.
See! The smoke is thickening, and an
other minute '11 block that way, too,
for 'twill hang under t' roof an' choke
thee. (Jood-by, dear Jim, an' don't
worry over me!" And he -sank against
the timbers of the wall. panting heavily.
The crisis of James Pennart's life
had come. In such circumstances men's
minds work with lightning rapidity,
and he took in the situation instant'.y,
and graspe l the duty that lay before
him clearly. That duty was to save his
friend, no matter at what peril to him
self. Ho knew perfectly well that
John Treloar would have had no hesi
tation in such a case. He knew that
there was just a chance of being able
to thrust John through the hole, or to
go through first himself and then drag
him after. He felt still physically cap
able of doing this, and yet something
held him back. All his obligations to
his friend rose up against his sluggish
will. With them, unhappily, rose also
n remembrance of Alice Minton's
preference for the man who now lay
half unconscious before him. No def
inite purpose of evil crossed his mind;
no definite feeling of jealousy; but the
hesitation which paralyzed his moral
nature deepened. All this reflection,
tedious as it is to represent it in words,
occupied so few seconds that there
seemed to have been hardly a pause
after Treloar's speech when his com
rade answered:
"Nonsense, John! You're a long
-was from being done yet Lean on
me, and we'll make the riffle together."
P.ut as he said this, James Pennart
clearly knew that the moment for ac
tion had passed. John Treloar's eyes
opened sowly, he moved his head so
that he could look down the gallery,
and, seeing a dense curtain of smoke
pressing toward them, ho onco more
shook his head, and with half-strangled
utterance murmured: "Get Jim, for
the sake of Alice!" and his head sank
upon his breast.
Pennart hesitated no longer. Press
ing his friend's hand, but unablo to
speak for emotion, he sprang up the
pile of debris, forced his body through
tho narrow opening, rolled into the
clear gaiiery, and reached the shaft in
time to be taken up on the last trip of
the cage. As he was struggling over
tho rock heap after abandoning his
comrade, he thought but could not be
sure, that he heard a faint a dying
voice whisper: "Alice!" It might have
been an echo or a fancy, and no one
could prove or disprove "it; for when,
after many waeks, tho Yellow Jacket
mine was onco moro habitable, noth
ing but a few charred bones remained
beside the fallen rock in tho gallery, to
show where John Treloar had died.
Had died I have said but, after all,
which of these two men was it whose
life ended 01 that fateful day? John
Treloar's na.:ie is n-vcr mentioned by
the miners save with deepest respect
and admiration He, indeed, seems to
our circumscribed vision to have
missed happiness and success and love;
but what do we know of ultimate con
sequences? As for James Pennart
surely his was a living death from the
hour he proved recreant to his duty; for
he was sensitive and clear-sighted, and
he could not forgive himself. Neither
could Alice Minton forgive him, nor
look upon him with kindness thence
forward. She never married, and he,
miserable, went forth a wanderer, ob
jectless, hopeless and indifferent to the
future, feeling that nothiny it held
could by any possibility affect or miti
gate the weight of that burden of self
to which he was bound tieorgo F
Parsons, in K. Y. Ledger.
j Important Information. A .Texas
I lawyer undertook to cross-examine a
; colored witness, Jim Webster. "What's
; your name?" "Jim Webster." "What's
i your occupation?" "I drives a dray."
"Have you got a brother who looks
I like you, and drives a dray?" "He am
i dead." "What was he before he died?"
! "Alive." Texas Sittings.
Englishman "Pardon me, sir; but
where do you come from?" Paddy
"From County Cork." Englishman
"Then that accounts for your brogue."
Paddy -"May I ax where you come
from?" Englishman "From Worces
ter, sir." (proudly). Paddy "Then
that accounts for your sauce."
ADVERTISEMENTS.
7EM w Bum
wmwEummmmw.
tiaij IBM'
ir or Letter Heads,
USlslliii Bm Heads,
a-
LIPPMAN BflOS.. Proprietors,
Dr-iagltts, Llppmun't Dlock, SAVANNAH, GA.
For Sale by V. M. COHEN.
apr23 ly
LAND SALE.
VALUABLE FARMS FOR SALE IN
HALIFAX COUNTY, N. C:
r NE FARM CONTAING 534 ACRES
J 6 horse crop cleared, good pasture,
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0
NE TRACT OF 200 ACRES, ONE
horse crop cleared, most of the other
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out houses.
PK1CE $1,000.
0
NE TRACT OF 83 ACRES, OXE
horse crop cleared, the balance in
heavy urowth of original pines.
IUUCH $400.00.
0
NE TRACT OF 314 ACRES, TWO
horse crop cleared, the balance in fin
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PUTCR $1,000.
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NE TRACT OF 484 ACRES, 3 HORSE
crop cleared; good dwelling and all
neccssarv out-houses.
PKICE $2,000.
0
N E TRACT OF 850 ACRES, FIVE
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PIIICE $2,r00.
These farms are convenient to churches,
in a healthy locality, and a short distance
from Halifax and Eufield. Partios wishing
to bny and want to
EXAMINE :-: TIIESE-:-LANDS
Will call on MR. THOMAS OUSBY, Hen
demon, N. C, or MR. T. C. BURGESS,
who lives near Halifax, who will takepleas
ure in showing them to purchasers.
Any or all of these lands will be
EB1TTED
ON REASONABLE TERMS
POB 1800.
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Address All Correspondence To
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0.
WATCHMAKER
Littleton,
Makes aspecialty of
repairing fine
WATCHES and
CLOCKS.
Fitting spectacles and
eye glasses.
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gold tnd silver.
THE NEW YORK WORLD
Never crows. For what it has dnn it
slis no favor and and no consideration.
That is ancient history to be fnnrotten
It looks only to the future to the work
to be done. Our hopes and fears, our
joys and sorrows are before us not one
behind.
In THE WORLD'S woik for 1891
fTcry American citizen vitally interes
ted, and not one no matter what his
politics may be can afford to be without
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Every tenth man should send to day for
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Subscribe at once. Three months costs
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Addrw .
v THE WORLD,
NiwTork.
f 'JJwjjNrk
GORDLE,
and JEWELER,
North Carolina,
A nice Hue of
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AM) JEWELRY,
Always nn hand for
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Solentlflo American)
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0 MY STOCK OF 0
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And
WINTER
! i i iiacaimEiaagaaggtasei
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the) . ,ee
NEW STYLES.
COME AND SELECT THE NEW
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VRS. P. A. LEWIS,
ocUly Weldoi, N.C,
- - - a
1
Iw V Millinery.
Millinery.