A MINER'S REVENGE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3518, 16 August 1921, Page 58

A MINER'S REVENGE.

[All Rights Reserved.]

By

MRS. A. J. PHILLIPS.

Nance Martin worked away with a cheerful heart. The looms in the great weaving shed at Cross’s were in full swing as their shining, intricate machinery obeyed the workings of the powerful throbbing engines which caused the two thousand looms to weave their worldfamed cloth. The noise was terrific, but it might have been as peaceful as a church for all the effect it ha-d upon the weavers. Nance sang at the top of her sweet young voice as she worked, blissfully conscious that no one could hear her, and as she sang she longed for the working day to end. True, she had not long to wait, but she knew the last hour would be the longest, and determined to make the best of it, and, just as she had made this resolution a bewildering stillness settled upon the workers as the great engines came to a sudden stop and the looms to a standstill. “Something’s gone wrong, I reckon,” said her neighbour, as she rested against her loom. A es, it looks like it,” answered Nance. “I wonder how long we shall have to wait before things are right again." ‘ Not long, I reckon,” answered the other carelessly. “It’s almost half-past four. T shouldn’t Do a bit surprised if we don’t start again, and I’m sure I’m not particular.” Nance looked at her friend pitvingto for Mary Street was a delicate girl, who worked when she ought to have been resting, and whose health altogether was but poor. “Aren’t you well, Mary?” she asked gentlv. “Nay, lass, I’m nobbnt so well t'o-dav," answered the girl with a bravo smile: “but I’m not giving up. Mother and the kids would fare had if I did. But 1 say. Nance, is it true yer courting, lass?” Nance laughed, and flushed "all over her pretty face. With her soft white hands she pushed hack the pretty shining hair from her forehead, and answered somewhat shyly : “Aye, it’s true .Tack Fenton and I are walking out together.” “Well, now, I’m glad, for 1 alius liked Jack. I wish ’e didn’t work in the pit, though. T were afraid George Nutter wen* o'oino- to ait Ter.” “Nav,” protested Nan, “George is too l)]*i«’k-teron('rc j d for mo: and they do sav he’s a }H‘rfoot demon when he’s n't home.” ‘I reckon V just is: hut if 1 were is mother—and she is a widder, poor thing— I'd sie Tin something to no on with!” but, you see. cY; the bread-winner,” replied Nance wisely. And Mary sighed. Aye. so e is ; and 1 know all about that, don’t I?” raid she in a tired voice. An intimation from the manager came at that minute dismissing the weavers and telling them to be at their places as usual in the morning, as everything would be in working order, and a general bustle

ensued. Nance, with a nod and smile at tired Mary, sped away for her shawl, and, with a happy heart, made ;or home as fast as she could go. That night she was to meet her lover for the first time, and they were to have a delicious walk together. Only on Monday night had Jack Fenton asked her, in a queer, husky voice, if she’d walk out with mm, and Nance’s heart thrilled again at the memory of his dark, handsome eyes as they looked down at her. “Walk out with him?” she thought gladly. “I’d walk to the ends of the world with him, and be quite happy. ’ As sho opened the door of her cottage home her mother looked at her in surprise. “ ’Elio, lass,” she called out. “You re early !” “Aes, mother. There’s been a small breakdown,” answered lier daughter, “and I’m right glad.” “Aye, " smiled Mrs Martin, ‘I reckon you be. You’ve more time to make versel' bonnier. Not that that’ll be very hard work,” she added in an undertone, for her one and only child was very precious to her. “I s’pose you be courtin’ tonight?” “Now, mother, don’t tease,” laughed Nance. “You went courtin’ afore me, didn’t you?” “I did, lassie, and wi’ a man as always took care of me. Aye, and .Tack Fenton will do the same, I know. He allied me isself e wouldn’t hurt a h-air of yer head, my girl,” answered her mother tenderly. Nance helped her to get the tea, then, clearing all away, ran upstairs to make herself smart for the evening walk. She looked as pretty as a picture as she walked down the long street, her neat costume and tasteful hat setting off the beauty of her features and slender, graceful figure. They had arranged to meet about half a mile away, in a nice country part where the mill chimneys could not be seen arid where the birds could be heard in the trees overhead, and to this meeting-place she sped with light steps. She had hardly left the town behind her when she heard a voice address her, and, turning round, she found herself face to face with George Nutter. IV here are ver off to all so fine ?” he asked. “I’ve wanted to see yer, Nance, to ask ver something.” Nance’s heart began to beat- a little fearfully. “What did ver want?” she asked quickly. He laughed a little sheepishly and said, “Why, yer know right enough. I want you and no one else, my girl, for my wife, and ” “No, don’t say any more,” cried Nance, distressfully, drawing away 7 from the man. ou can only be a friend to me, George. I’ve never led ye to think nowt else.” George’s face flushed a dull red, and his eves gleamed angrily. Ho was not a nice-looking man, for ' his face plainly showed his evil temper and his masterful ways. “1 s’pose there’s someone else, and I can prettv well guess who it is,” he shortly. “There’s no need for vou to guess,” replied the girl with spirit. “I’m not ashamed to tell ver that I’m courting with Jack Fenton, and I tell yer straight, George, lad, e.s the only 7 man for me.” George laughed coarsely and suddenly put -his .arm round Nance's waist. I hat so. 7 ’ he cried loudly—“then gi’ me a kiss, my lass, and I'll let thee go?” “What d’you mean?” gasped Nance, struggling madly to free herself. “Let me go, or I’ll scream the place down.” He placed a great red hand over Che girl s pretty mouth and held her mockrogly- but not for long. Soon came the sound of running footsteps, and George Nutter felt a blow upon his jaw which made him release the struggling girl sharply 7 . “Yer great coward!” cried Jack Fenton breathlessly as he held Nance close to him ; “how dare yer touch my girl 1 What d’you want, shall we fight it°out now and ave done with it? I’m ashamed of yer, lad; I thought ver were my friend.” ‘‘So I am, Jack, lad.” returned George huskily. “I’m sorry, Nancy, I were mad, I think. Will yer forgive me?” “Yes, I will, lad,” replied Nance, holding out her hand prettily. “Yer didn’t mean to hurt me. Shake hands wi’ him, Jack, and let us forget all about it.” Jack did so quite heartily, and George turned round and made for his home, but his face was contorted with a terrible rage, and in his evil heart he began to plan how he could he revenged upon his chum, Jack Pec ton. for winning the girl he had set his heart upon. Once he turned and watched the two well-matched figures as they walked leisurely along, Jack’s arm round Nance’s trim waist, and lie cursed loud and deep, vowing that at all costs must Jack Pent-on he got out of his path. Meanwhile the lovers had found a shady retreat, and the tall, stalwart young fellow drew his willing sweetheart into his arms. “Nance, lass, I’m a proud man,” he said, as he kissed her passionately, “and I'm thankful to yer for loving me “Now, Jack,” laughed Nance, raising her pretty face to his and getting promptly kissed in consequence. “Were a thankful pair, aren’t we? For 1 love only you, and I’ll wed wi’ none else.” “Yer won’t mind if we can't walk out often, will yer?” asked he anxiously. “You see, little lass, I’m not going to stop at coal-breaking, not I: I want to keep on with my evening classes and try to become a manager in time.” “My goodness,” said Nance admiringly, “I’ll not stand in yer way, Jack—nav, keep on with your classes. We’ll meet Wednesdays and Sundays, dear lad. and think of each other in between, but you’ll be friendly with George, won’t you?” The happy time passed all too quickly, and when, wtli vows of unendng love, the two parted at Nance’s gate, each longed with a lover’s longing for Sunday to come with all speed.

_ I he next meeting between Jack and George was not quite cordial, but the coolness wore off, and soon each were good friends once more. Jack Fenton was a collier in a large and flourishing mine, but George's work was different. He was a master sinker, and an experienced man at his work, and as they were sinking a shaft in the near neighbourhood of his home he was naturally for the time being staying with his widowed mother, who was greatly looking forward to a few weeks ahead, when another engagement would take him away. She was going to be married again, and this she dared not tell her fiery-tempered son, but she determined, as scon as he was safely out of the way, to marry her man, and so have someone to protect her when next George returned home. How are you getting along, George?” asked Jack a few weeks after this quarrel. ‘I' expect you’re about done.” . a 3T lad, not so fast, but we’re getting along very nicely.” I wish you’d take me down one of them bowks, and show me what yer work is like, said Jack, who took a deep interest in everything connected with the mine. '' hy> so I will. Yer can come to-day, if you’ve a iffind,” answered George in a friendly voice. Jack laughed and shook his head. . 7 '' o t to-day, old man, it’s courting night, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world, but I’ll come to-morrow.” A strange gleam shone out of George’s eyes, but he only said carelessly; “All right, meet me after tea, and i’ll take yer down.” That night, while Jack and Nance were enjoying their walk, Jack said casually : “I’m going down the new shaft with George to-morrow, Nance. He’s taking me to show me his work. I’ve wanted to see for some time what his particular work was.” “I hope it’s not dangerous. Jack,” replied Nance, a little anxiously, but Jack laughed an dsqueezed her hand. “Who’s a frightened, littie lass,” he said tenderly. “I II take care of myself, never fear.” He changed the conversation to some thing more interesting to themselves, and Nance thought nothing more about it, and, indeed, was so happy with her lover that she completely forgot the information altogether. The next night George met Jack at the pit head ready to take him down the new shaft, which was very nearly completed. He met him in the usual friendly wav, and Jack saw nothing strange in his manner. They stepped into the bowk, a big bucket-like contrivance made to hold several men, and were lowered down the dark abyss. George explained things to his interested friend, and when all was seen the signal was given to ascend. They had gone a good wav up when Jack felt a heavy hand laid upon him, and heard a voice he hardlv recognised loss out in terrifying accents : “Jack Fenton, your end has come! I mean to murder you! Nance Martin will never be yours !” Quick as lightning Jack sprang round to see a face convulsed with rage, and George’s hand descending upon him holding a knife, which gleamed dully in the dim light of the miner’s lamp. With an instinct, of self-preservation the horrified young fellow closed upon his infuriated friend, whom he felt certain had suddenly lost his reason. With a sharp movement he managed to jerk the dangerous knife out of George’s hand, and it fell harmlessly into the inky depths as the madman set upon his rival with a terrible fury. To and fro they went, each fighting with all his might, and the bowk swayed horribly from side to side. George, thick-set and powerful, was no mean opponent to Jack, who, though taller, was of a slenderer build. He felt himself being thrust closer and closer to the side of the bowk, and realised that the fiendish intention of this once friend of his was to fling him out of the bucket into the arms of death below. He fought desperately for life, and planted his feet more firmly to resist, when suddenly the bucket-like apparatus overturned, and both men were flung out of it into the cha-sm beneath. As Jack fell he flung out his arms with a wild hope of seizing hold of something, and to his jov his hand miraculously struck the guide rope, and at once he clung to It with -the grip of one demented. A cold sweat broke over him as he realised the horror of his position. Death stared him in the face. He was caught like a rat in a trap, and there seemed to him no possibility of escape. Death ! While above the nit shaft the soft moonlight shone on all. and particular! v upon a small home which held for him the dearest possession on earth. God ! What an age it seemed since he had held sweet Nance in his arms and kissed her unresisting lips. “Was it only last night?” he asked himself, for already this horrible thing that had happened to him had sent time reeling into the past, and the thought of sweetheart and home now seemed to him like some vague memorv from down the ages. He clung to the thin, greasy wire with all his might, but it afforded him little support, and he found after a few tense minutes that he could not keep his hold. To his horror he began to slide slowly downwards into the abyss of darkness beneath him. Slowly at first, but he gathered speed as he moved, and, despite his wild efforts to strain his feet and arms round the wire to impede his progress, he slid along faster and faster. Idle murky, poisonous air, rushed up at him like some hot breath of hell, and the pain of the slender rope was well-nigh unbearable, as it cut through his boots and oilskins into his hands and legs until the blond flowed freely, and poor Jack began to wish he. had fallen to instantaneous death below. Down he went, and still down, and the fiery wire seemed to be cutting into his very vitals, but still he clung madly, fear-

ing to let himself fall into the black depths which yawned beneath him, hoping against hope, and praying with anguished lips for deliverance. Presently a faintness began to creep over him ; a deathly sensation overwhelmed him, and he began to relax his . 10iu , u Pp n the wire, when—oh! jov of J°yf • ‘tes foot struck against something, and he came to a sudden stop. Line a ftasn new life returned to him, ins faintness vanished, he forgot his pain in the relief that flooded his being, for his feet had caught against a tanglement ox wire, and, slipping into it, found at once a safe and sure support. Carefully he renewed his grip, making io n Se \? more secure, and there he hung, 1800 feet below the surface, in the pitch darkness, alone. Meanwhile, in her home, Nance was reading. She had helped her mother with j e housework, and, having washed and dressed herself, tried to read the instalment of a serial that was interesting her. But somehow she could not settle 'to it, and presently the paper fell on to her f, nee >, an d she lost herself in drearv thought. What was Jack doing? She wondered, and at once the dreaminess \aniseed, for suddenly a dream she had had the night before rushed across her senses. She dreamt Jack had been in danger, awful danger, hut she could not tell what, and, with a ouiek sense of teap i.’i her heart, she rose to her fc-et. ’’Why, child, what is the matter?” asked her mother in surprise. I don t know, ’ cried Nance, unhappily, but somehow I have just remembered a horrid dream, and I am afraid that all is not well with Jack.” * P' ess le laughed her mother. "What nonsense!” But her laughter died away as she saw the fear in her daughter’s face. “He has gone down alone with George,” sue whispered fearfully. “Suppose George ——” She stopped, then said wildly : Oh! mother, I feel that awful dream is coming true. Let us get our things on and go and see for ourselves.” .Mrs Martin did as she was told, and, with an unknown fear at her heart, Nance hurried her mother to the nit top. The grave faces of the small crowd there confirmed her fears. “What is the matter?” she cried wildlv. W here is Jack Penton ?” The men looked at her pityingly. “There’s bin an accident, Nance,” said one of them. “The bowk's overturned itsei’ in some way, and Nutter and Fenton have been flung out.” Nance looked at her mother with a terrible anguish in her eyes. Well, will they be killed?” she whispered with stiff lips. There was no answer. ‘What are you going to do?” she cried suddenly, madly, “are you going to stay here and let them die down there alone? Can nothing be done?” 7’he men looked at each other in bewilderment. “Rummat’s gone, wrong,” affirmed one. “The guide rope ain’t wot it ought to be. I can’t understand it. I m afeared it ’ud be dangerous to go down i’ the bowk.” “Then let me go,” cried Nance. “I’ll go alone. You’re nowt but a pack of cowards, to let your fellow-men die without raising a hand to help them.” "Yer shan’t go alone, rnv girl,” said a rough-looking miner. ‘l'll go wi’ ver one or two more men offered, and 'soon the bowk was lowered verv carefully once more into the pit-shaft. Very slowly they wore let down, and Nance, with a wild pain at her heart, listened eagerly for the slightest sound. “Someone shout!” she asked in agony. “Perhaps we may get an answer.” At once a powerful call was sent ringing down below, and the others held their breaths and shuddered as from out the black abyss a faint, answering cry was heard. Nance hid her face in her hands and settled weakly; and slowly, but surely, they crawled downwards. ‘ To Jack the sound of that call was like the sweetest musmic, for it told him that deliverance was at hand, and when the great bucket appeared he knew that his prayer had been heard. A to a wire rope was lowered to him, and with couraged forethought he made a noose in the end, slipped his foot into it. and was drawn slowly and steadily upward, until willing hands assisted his exhausted body into safety. “Oh! Jack! Jack!” sobbed Nancy, as her arm shot round his fainting figure. “You, Nance!” he whispered weakly, recovering himself with an effort. “You here!” “Aes, my lad, she made us come, she did. Dragged us down wi’ her, bless her an’ a good thing, too,” said one of the coll iers. Up they went into the blessed air once more, and poor, bleeding Jack was assisted to his home, where, being strong of limb, and a clean liver, he soon made a rapid recovery. George’s body was brought up to the surface and given> a quiet funeral, and who shall blame his mother if, when she had recovered from the shock, she experienced a decided sense of relief that one who had proved himself a tyrant had been removed out- of her path. Jack, when he told the story of his very trying experience, emphasised the fact that he firmly believed his friend had suddenly become bereft of his senses, and was not responsible for his terrible act; and, though Nance did not agree with her lover, she held her peace, rejoicing in the fact that she had helped to save Jack« life, and, looking out into the future with happy eyes, felt she could be both generous and charitable.