The Storyteiier

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXII, Issue 49, 8 December 1904, Page 23

The Storyteiier

GOOD FOR EVIL. Three sharp, piercing blasts came from the whistle of the shaft-house and reverberated through the silent, snow-covered valley. It was an inky-dark night, Gold •with a biting keenness, aird few ol the miners had mil their cahms and then comparatively comfortless lire sides. But e\en while Uhe whistle was still yowndinj; its hutu^e warning, lights glimmered m the neighborhood ot the black building,, that covered the shaft, excited men with lanterns mosed heie d.ud theie blioutmg to each other, and out in the village t/he light from many afi open door made ruddy patches on the sinow. A few mmuLes later, an,'d biack groups of people, some bearung blazing mine lamps an their hats, ywarmejd up the steep hnl towaid tihe scene of the dist/urbance. In a little while alter the warning had &'O,urrded a crowd of several hundred men and women had gatiheretd outside ol the shaft-house, curiolis, excited, all asking questions, atnd no one beiing able to reply.

The one mian who knew the cause of the warning was Jitkins, tjie mine foreman. He stood in the little olhce building near the tan4iou'se, witli his ear glued to the telephone receiver, pale as a ghost, his hair dishevelled, an!d his black eyes gleaming with suppressed excitement.

' lkil),n » ' .hie said, .' Give me J. C. Cougfhlaai, of the Coughlan Coal Company. For God's sake hurry ! Hello ! Js titiaft Mr. Uoughlan 7 Th,is is ,Jifkihs ! There has been am accident at the mine. Fans' were running oinly half-speed on account of stake. Harry, your sion, came over this afternoon aad went dow ( n this evening without my knowledge. Some of the chambers had gas in them, and — well, there was an explosion and the mswie of the shaft is on fire. Hello ! Yes, sir ! We will do our best ; have courage ' Good-bye ' ' He almost -threw the receiver into its receptacle and dashed irom the room. There was work for him to do. Meanwhile the crowd outside had grown t|o a mob of several hundred people. At intervals vast volumes of pungent smoke ahot Up from tJic mouth «f the pit, acrid and irritating with the odor of oil-soakod wood. Willing hands manned the huge hose which was brought out to flush the shaft, and a dozen stturdy arms pointed it down tihe black cavity. There was a babel of shouted suggestions as to what should be done ; the croud packed closer and clloser around the shatt building, and all seemed confusion. Suddenly out of the tumult rose a clear, shrill Voi'cc

1 Mem, v.c must ha\e order hero ! Push the crowd back, you in front , we must ha\e room to work, and we must ha\e silence. Let me give the orfders. Mo\V, everybody : bring aiounxi that ottier hose ! There, that's 1 it i Now down with it ' (Jood !

It v was Jiii\i,ns, the superintendent. His pale, steadfast face and commanding voice seemed to exercise a remarkable influence over t/he crowd. The men worked with a jiew energy ; out ot confusion came order. Gradually the smoke became less dense, and Jifkm.;, noting every change, at I'as't gave the signal to ha\e the water shut on. '1 he fire had been extinguished.

At almfosit tjie same moment a commotion atose in the rear ot the crowd A carriage drawn by a pair of steaming noises drove up, and a man and a woman alighted. Instinctively the peotple pressed back and made way tor tnem.

' It's Coughlan and his wife ! ' was whispered from mouth to mouth Formerly they had been accustomed to mention Coughlan's name r only with execration — Coughlan, the man who had forced them time and again to rennavn idle in oiaer that coal prices might not fall from over-proid'uetion , Couglhlan, the man whose sat-rap-bosses had practically made- slaves of them. His wife— Uhey knew little conceroing her ; t,hat she was Caughl'asn's' wile was smfheiont.

Jrfkftnsi met the mine owner amTihis wife in front of the shaft-bouse : a hurried colloquy ensiued. •'There is hope, 1 said the siuperihtendent : but some one nmst go down the sibaft immediately. The smoke renders the attempt very dangerous, h>ut we may get volunteers. My lungs won't stand it, or I'd go myself. We need a strong man arid a true man.'

The flabby face of the mine-owner was crimson with excitement and nervous tension. His wife was softly weepung on his shoulder, and looked up as the superintendent ceased speaking.

1 T/haJnk you, Jifkins,' she said. 'We need— 0 Gojd how we need a friend now — strong and true. James, can we ask these people to make such a sacrifice for us?'

Coupjhlan howed his head. ' Don't ! ' he whispered. 1 Uon't talk that way now ! He brave. I'll offer a reward ; we'll find a way ! ' The woman began to sob aloud, attiid ching to him more closely.

In t|he meantime somebody ha,d lighted a'Tnmdle "of oil-soakeu. cotton waste, placed in the fork of a near-by tree. As it .blazed up the red glare, reflected by.,t<hp snow, threw into relief tihe eager faces of the crowrf, pressing now m increased numbers around the , shafthouse, ajnd the anxiqus mtle group in t|he centre of the circle Behind showed tihe mountain, bleak ajxd desolate, covered with blackened tree-stumps, with here and there a sfjruggy pme standing in dusm\al misery all alone. Around the ia<dius of the circle Uhe powdery snow gjittered like a shower of diamond dust.

Cougjhlan, as if nerved with a new determination, released his wife's hands from his neck, placed an arm cUuund ihcr *.. aist, and, facing the assemblage, raised his nand to command sijence.

' i\le)a,' he said, hi a voice kembling with emotion, 'my s,ofn is down in that burning Hhalt, and some one niiust braA-e danger to rind him and to rescue him. We hope that he is alive ; but alive or dead. I am determined to help him. rie is my only son, and. he is dear to me. So listen now. I am an ol,d main, and I call on you tio do, not an act of justice but an act of heroism. 1 myself will go down the sihaft to find my son ; 1 ask only for one volunteer to accompany me. \\,ho will be my comnainidn ? He will be rewarded ! '

The ci-|O\v>d was silent for a moment. Then se.veral m^n at/tempted to go forward. There were many "brave hearts t|here , but tiheir wnes or their sweethearts pulled them back. Why should they give their liv^s to this miaji "' They were as dear to tfheir kindred as his son was to him. They were sorry indeed, but they h&d gi\ en ihim everything else ; why shoulld he now demand tneir lives ?

' is tUiere no one to volunteer ? ' cried Jifkins 1 , searching tihe faces of the crowd. Then, men—' He p-a,us-ed. A burly, bewhiskered giant, wearing a red flannel shirt, open at the collar to display his brawny, hairy chest, was pressing to tihe front. His slouch hat was pulled far over his forehead, a^d his eyes 1 glared from under lus bushy brows with a 'gleam like a mad bear's. He reaqhe)d the cetitie of the group, and for a moment confronted the nnne-owner in silence. 1 The Anarchist ■ ' the cr*owd exclaimed in wfonder. During tihe past two weeks of idleness the man had been gucn this title, however unmerited, on account of his Jieiy spee/ches against capital. He was counted one of the most desperate men, and the hardest drinker in town. Whether his nationality w^as Germain, Polish, or Sla\omc no one could tell— he spoke all these lang,u^,ges mdinereintly well ; but that he was a fanatic, with all the fanatic's lo'\e of admiration, was admitted by all. His burly Irame towered over the stooped iigtire of the mine-owner, and there was an exultant ring in his \oice whom he began to speak.

1 Master Coughlan,' he said, ' you haf coom to beg of the beggars , you haf asked us t,o go to maybe death to save your son. One little week ago we come to you ; we ask you for work. \ou s,ay to us w^hen we come, Miiat you cannot afford to let us work. You tell us that, remember— and you heard him, my people— you cannot afford to keep the starve away from us. Hjuh ! ' There was biting sarcasm in the man's tones, and the mine-owner was infuriateid. He glared at his accuser, and attempted to steip forward, but the ' Anarchist ' made a warning gesture with one hand, and with the ot,hcr pointed toward the shaft.

' ion can talk later ; now it is our time ! Master Coughlan, you haf asked us to keep your son from death— you vjio would not risJc the price of a loaf of biead to keep us alne ! And what do we answer? Listen, then ! ' He paused for a brief instant. What do we say to you, the heartless man ? We say "Yes!" We say we will help you ; not because you are rich, or becaaisc ,of money, but to show you that riches haf not the power to buy courage ot friends. We say n 0 man is rich or poor in the brestence of death, and so we say . " Here is Alex. Birchon— a poor man, an igjnoranti man— and he will go down in the mine and face death for you— alone— all alone ! You shall not go ; yom are too old. Have 1 spoken well, my people? ' 'i nere was a cheer from tihe crowd, amd the orator's eyes glistened with pleasure. The mine-owner, forgetiul ot all save that nis son was Vo be rescued tpriedto grasp Binhofi's hand.

1 I will pay you well ! ' he lepeated over and over again.

Birchoft seemed not to notice him. Don't bother me now,' he said. 'We will talk if I come hack. Goodbye, fnejnds ! ' he cried, and he stepped on tihe carriage ready to be lowered five hundred feet into the earth. His clot/hes were wetted and a damp siponge was placed o\cr his nose Then the bell clanked, and the carriage sank down suddenly, aad noiselessly, ink) tihe tomb-like darkness.

Then ensued tense moments of waiting that- 'seemed hours. Suddenly the bell again clanked, 'the signal to hoisi. The Gable became taut, and there was a bUw of conversation, followed by a strange silence. Somewhere

in the crowd a woman sobbed hysterically, and now all eyes were strained to see the uprising carriage.' Wheai at last it came Do view a dozen v.oluHiteers rusdied forward to help the returned man. Birchoff, as erect as a soldier, stood on the platform supporting m his arms the unconscious torm of Henry Coughlan. Those who would assist him he waved bvnck with a stern brusquencss. Blackened and burnt with the subterranean flames, nis hair and beard singed to a crisp, there was yet a certain nobility in his mien as he walked erect with his burden and raid it at though Lans feet. Mrs. Coughlan took her son's head in her lap and kissed his pale and snroke-g rimed face with rapture. ' Thiank Uod ! ihanK Cxod ! she excUumxl, 'he !■> not dead ! Heaven will bless you for this noble act ! ' And then beading o,v<er her son, she smooth t'H ins haii, matted with the singeing bla/.e, and wept with mingled joy and sympathy. ' My man—' began the mine-owner ; but Birchofl interrupted him with an imperrous gesture. ' It is a bresenl. 1 he said—' a holiday bre^ent, to you and her— from the beople. We haf givqn you the life of your son ; we only as<k that you give to us a little work— a little bread— a little— we ask—'

lie swayed and fell like a log, his fingers clutching at the feathery snow, and he muttering weakly : 'it is a b^escnt — a little work — for the beople ! ' — ' Catholic World Magazine.'