Munroe Kirk
The Copper Princess: A Story of Lake Superior Mines

CHAPTER IX
WINNING A FRIEND BY SHEER PLUCK

Peveril's lamp had been extinguished during his struggle to force an entrance into the skip, while that in Mike Connell's hat went out as he sank helpless from terror and crouched at the other's feet. So the blackness that shrouded them as with a pall was only faintly illumined by the fitful flashing of the fuses that hissed like so many fiery serpents beneath them. Their red eyes gleamed spitefully through the gloom, and for an instant Peveril, leaning over the side of the skip, gazed at them in fascinated helplessness.

Then he leaped down among them and began to tear them from their connection with the devilish forces that only awaited a signal to burst forth and destroy him. The fiery serpents bit at him as he flung them, to writhe in impotent rage, where they could do no harm; but he heeded not the pain, and after a little they expired, one by one, hissing spitefully to the last.

As second after second dragged itself away, until it was finally certain that sixty of them had passed, and that sentence had been pronounced in his favor, the young miner sank to his knees and framed, as best he could, a prayer of gratitude. How long he thus remained in grateful contemplation of his narrow escape from death he never knew, but he was at length aroused by a shout from above, and, looking up, saw an approaching light twinkling like a star of good promise through the blackness. The call that came to him was one of anxious uncertainty; but, as his answering shout sped upward, it was changed to an exultant cry of joy. Then came cheer after cheer as the skip slowly descended until it finally reached the bottom, and a solitary figure sprang from it.

This person acted like a crazy man, first flinging his arms about Peveril, and then falling on his knees at the young man's feet, with a torrent of words in which praise and gratitude were mingled with pleas for forgiveness. He was Peveril's recent companion and avowed enemy, who, after the former had leaped from the skip, had leaned weakly over its side and watched with fascinated gaze the struggle for life going on below him. Ere it was ended, the hoisting-machinery began again to work, and the skip was suddenly impelled upward with breathless speed.

Those who witnessed its safe arrival at the surface had their congratulations changed to exclamations of dismay by the discovery that it contained but a single occupant. Though the time-limit for the explosion was already passed, and though Mike Connell begged them to send him down again at once, they refused to do so until another full minute should elapse. During its slow passage they crowded about the shaft-mouth in breathless silence, listening with strained ears for the awful sound they so dreaded to hear.

Even with the minute of safety passed, it was not certain that the explosion might not yet occur; but the young Irishman demanded so fiercely to be instantly lowered to the very bottom that they finally consented to do as he desired. Several were even willing to accompany him, but he waved these back and insisted upon going alone.

He had to meet the man to whom he owed his life, as well as a shameful confession of cowardly acts, and he preferred to meet him alone. Two minutes later he was at the bottom of the shaft, kneeling in semi-darkness on its rocky floor, acknowledging his obligation, confessing his guilt, and imploring forgiveness.

"You are the bravest man I've ever known, Mister Peril, though I've met them as was counted brave before; but none of them would dare do what you have this day. You have given me my life, and yet I tried twice to take yours, for 'twas me flung that rock in the mine. And – I'm choked with the shame of the black deed – but I gave the signal to hoist the skip a few minutes since, and tried to leave you here to die. I'm a coward and a murderer at heart, Mister Peril, and the dirtiest blackguard that ever was let live. I'm not worthy of your contempt, and yet, sir, I'm going to dare ask a favor of you."

"My dear fellow," interrupted Peveril, who was greatly moved by the man's attitude and words of self-condemnation. "Believe me – "

"Wait, Mister Peril. Please wait, sir, till you've heard me through. You have the right to hate me, to despise me, or even to kill me, and I'd not lift a finger to prevent you; but I'm going to ask you to forgive me. If you don't, I can never hold up my head or look an honest man in the face again. If you can't forgive me I shall never dare ask the forgiveness of God in heaven."

"I do forgive you, with all my heart," exclaimed Peveril, "and there is my hand on it." With this he grasped the young Irishman's hand and almost lifted him to his feet. "You have done a brave deed in coming down here after me," he added, "while there was still danger of an explosion, and one much braver even than that, in confessing your faults. These two things prove that you are not a coward, and from this time on I shall claim you as a friend."

"Thank you, Mister Peril, and may God bless you for them words," cried Connell, in a voice choked with feeling. "As for being your friend, sir, I'd be proud to be counted your slave."

"I would much rather have a friend than a slave," returned the other, smiling. "And so, if you don't mind, we'll stick to the first proposition. But, Connell, I want to ask you a question. What made you hate me, as you seemed to do from the very first?"

"Jealousy, Mister Peril. Just black, bitter jealousy, and nothing at all else."

"How could that be, when you didn't even know me?"

"Because, sir, I'm near crazy with love for a girl who only laughs at me, and whose folks treat me with contempt. When I first saw you, so strong and handsome and gentleman-like, with her father, and knew he was going to take you to live in the very house along of her, I couldn't help but hate you."

"You surely can't mean Miss Trefethen?"

"Yes, sir, no other; and when I seen you and her walking together, and she looking up so smiling into your face, I swore I'd kill you if ever I had the chance, and this day the devil gave it to me. But now, Mister Peril, you've proved yourself the best man of us two, and if you want her I'll never again stand in your way."

"But I don't want her!" cried Peveril. "Nothing was ever farther from my thoughts; and even if I did, I couldn't have her, because I am engaged to another young lady."

"You are, sir? Bless you for them words! And may I tell her that you are already bespoke?"

"Certainly; or, better still, I will tell her myself at the very first opportunity I have for speaking with her on such a subject. But, now that everything is settled between us, don't you think we'd better prepare the blast again before we go up? There is fuse enough left in the skip."

"Well, you are a game one!" exclaimed Connell, admiringly. "Of course, if you are willing to do it after what you've just gone through, I'm the man to stand by you. Only I do hope as there won't be no hitch in the hoisting this time."

The signal, "All's well," having already been sent to the surface, Connell now notified the engineer to be ready to hoist for a blast, and the two set to work. In a few minutes the charge, that had so nearly proved fatal to both of them, was again ready for firing, and the hissing fuses were lighted. Then both men sprang into the skip, the signal to hoist was hurriedly sounded, and away they sped up the black shaft towards the distant sunlight.

As they reached the surface and clambered from the skip, aided by a dozen eager hands, there came from the depths below a dull roar and the tremor of a heavy explosion. At this a throng of persons which, to Peveril's surprise, was gathered at the shaft-mouth raised a mighty cheer. Then they crowded tumultuously forward to shake hands with, or even to gaze on, the hero of the hour; for, on his previous visit to surface, Mike Connell had told of Peveril's brave deed, and news of it had already spread far and wide. So the night-shift had paused to see him before entering the mine, and the day-shift had waited to greet him before going to their homes, while others had come from all directions.

Waving them all back, and grasping Peveril's hand, Mike Connell shouted:

"Wait a minute, mates! Only one minute, and then you shall have a chance at him. First, though, I want you all to know that Mister Peril here has just stepped from the very jaws of hell, where he went of his own free will to save my life. It's proud I am to call him my friend, and for the deed he has done this day I name him the bravest lad in all Red Jacket. If any man denies that, he'll have to settle with Mike Connell, that's all. And now, boys, you may treat him as a brave man deserves to be treated."

Poor Peveril, covered with confusion, tried to explain that whatever he had done was for his own salvation as well as for that of his friend, Mr. Connell; but no one would listen. All were too busy with cheering and in crowding forward for a look at him.

In another minute he was hoisted on the shoulders of half a dozen sturdy miners, the foremost of whom was proud old Mark Trefethen, and was being borne in triumphal procession through the principal streets of the town.

It was a spontaneous tribute of working-men to a fellow-workman; and, gladly as Peveril would have modified the form of the ovation, he was more proud of it than of any ever tendered him for having stroked the Oxford 'varsity eight to a win.

CHAPTER X
HEROISM REWARDED

As the story of Peveril's brave act preceded him, it gained so remarkably in passing from mouth to mouth that, by the time it reached Mrs. Trefethen, she received a confused impression that by some unheard-of bravery the young man had saved all in the mine, including her Mark and her Tom, from instant destruction. Her information having come direct from her dearest friend, Mrs. Penny, she could not doubt its truth, nor had she time to do so before the triumphal procession of miners appeared and halted at her very door.

Calling upon Nelly to support her, the worthy woman started forth to greet her heroes, and welcome them with all the warmth of her overflowing heart. As she gained the roadway, she was so blinded by thankful tears that she could not distinguish one person from another, but impulsively flung her arms about the neck of the first man she encountered, who happened to be Mike Connell, and treated him to a hearty embrace.

"Gie mun a kiss, lass!" she called to Nelly, as she loosed her arms and made towards another victim. "Nought's too good for they brave lads this day. Oh, Mark, man! but I be proud o' being thy earthly wife, 'stead o' seeing thee in 'eaven this blessed minute."

This last was addressed to a bewildered stranger whom Mrs. Trefethen had mistaken for her husband, and who was vainly striving to escape from her encircling arms.

"Art crazy, mother, to be hustling men in public street thiccy way? I be 'shamed of 'ee!" cried Mark Trefethen, catching hold of his wife at this moment. "Come along in house, or if 'ee must have man to hug take me or Tom here, or Maister Peril, who deserves it best of all for this day's work."

Nothing loath to do as she was bid, Mrs. Trefethen made a third effort to express her feelings towards Peveril, in her own peculiar fashion; but he laughingly evaded her, and she fell instead upon the neck of another astonished stranger who happened in her way, and upon whose head she tearfully called down the choicest blessings of Heaven.

"Thee's saved me from widow's grave, lad, which the same, I frequent saz to Miss Penny, I did 'ope never to live to see; but our 'Eveanly Feyther knows best, and if hits 'Is will – But there, I'm that over-set – Nelly, gie Maister Peril a kiss, lass, in token of thy forgiveness for what 'e's done this day."

So saying, the well-meaning blunderer released her victim, with the view of allowing Nelly a chance to express her gratitude, and, for the first time, caught sight of his face.

"Thee's not Dick Peril!" she cried. "W'at's thee mean by scandalizing honest woman thiccy way? Isn't thee 'shamed on thysel', thou great lump?"

The poor man tried in vain to explain his innocence of act or intention, but his voice was drowned in the boisterous laughter of his mates, amid which the crowd gradually dispersed, while Mrs. Trefethen, still exclaiming against the duplicity of men in general, was led into the house by her husband and son.

In the meantime Miss Nelly had demurely shaken hands with Mike Connell, who was still gasping in astonishment at the warmth of Mrs. Trefethen's reception. Then she kissed her father and Tom, stole one look at Peveril's face, and, murmuring something about seeing after supper, ran into the house.

Although Peveril had not forgotten the promise to his newly made friend to inform Nelly of his own engagement as soon as possible, he had no chance to do so that evening; for supper had hardly been eaten when he began to receive visitors eager to congratulate him upon his recent act of heroism. Among these was Major Arkell, general manager of the mine, whom the young man had never before met.

The Trefethens were thrown into a flutter of hospitable pride by the coming to their cottage of so distinguished a visitor, but, after a courteous greeting to them, he devoted his entire attention to him whom he had come purposely to see. After the latter had been introduced to him as "Mr. Peril," he asked so many questions concerning the recent incident as to finally draw out the whole story of that day's experience. He was a good listener, though a man of few words, and during Peveril's narrative gained a very fair idea of our young miner's education and capabilities. When the latter had finished, the major asked him if he proposed to continue his career as a miner.

"I expect I shall have to," answered Peveril, "seeing that I am entirely dependent upon my own exertions for a livelihood, and have no knowledge of any other business."

"Do you mind telling me what led you to choose this line of work from all others?"

"Because," replied Peveril, flushing, "finding myself in Red Jacket without a dollar, I was glad to accept the first job that offered."

"And we was only too glad to have him for one of us, major," broke in Mark Trefethen, "seeing as how he introduced himself by saving our Tom's life."

"Indeed! I hadn't heard of that. How did it happen?"

Glad of an opportunity for singing his young friend's praises, the timber boss eagerly related the incident; and when it was told the manager said, with a smile:

"Well, sir, you seem to have such a happy faculty for life-saving that I don't know but what we ought to appoint you inspector of accidents. Seriously, though, I am very glad to have a man of your evident ability and steady nerve with us, and if you are inclined to remain in our employ I shall make it my business to see that your interests do not suffer. So, if you will call at my office about eight o'clock to-morrow morning I shall be pleased to have a further talk with you."

"Thank you, sir," rejoined Peveril; "I will not fail to be there."

After the great man had departed, the Trefethens indulged in many speculations as to what he intended to do for their guest; nor was Peveril himself devoid of a hopeful curiosity in the same direction.

"Mayhap he'll make 'ee store-keeper," suggested Mrs. Trefethen; "hand if 'e only will, Maister Peril, me and Miss Penny 'll take all our trade to thy shop, though they do say has 'ow company ginghams woan't wash, while has for white goods, they've poorest stock in hall Red Jacket. Same time, there's many other little things can be 'ad reasonable, and Miss Penny's a lady as isn't above buying 'er own groceries, which hit's a treat to see 'er taking, a taste of this or a nibble at that, and always giving shopkeeper the benefit of 'er hexperience."

"Store-keeper be danged!" growled Mark Trefethen. "'Tisn't likely they'll try to make a counter-jumper outen a lad of Maister Peril's size and weight o' fist, to say nothing of his l'arnin'. No, no. More like he'll get a good berth underground – foreman of gang, or plat boss, or summut like that."

Tom thought it might be a job connected with the railroad, which was his own ambition; while Nelly, usually so ready with her tongue, for a wonder kept silent and made no suggestions.

On the following morning, when, promptly at eight o'clock, Peveril presented himself at the manager's office, his patience was tried by being compelled to wait in an anteroom for more than an hour while the great man despatched an immense amount of business with many subordinates. Richard could not help overhearing many of the conversations carried on in the private office, and, as he listened, was filled with admiration at the decisive readiness with which the manager disposed of one difficult problem after another.

Finally, when all the others had been dismissed, Peveril was summoned to the inner room, where, after a word of regret at having kept him so long in waiting, the manager bade him be seated, and said:

"Mr. Peril, it is so evident that you have been accustomed to a position far removed from that of a common laborer, that I am desirous of knowing something more of your life before intrusting you with a responsibility. Do you mind telling me what brought you to this section of country?"

"No, sir; I don't know that I do. I came out here ruined in fortune, through no fault of my own, to seek information concerning an old, and, I believe, a long-ago-abandoned mine, known as the Copper Princess."

"Um! I remember hearing the name; and, if I am not mistaken, it applied to a worthless property on which a large sum of money was squandered many years since."

"Yes, sir."

"How are you interested in it?"

"My father was an owner, and I am his heir."

"I am glad you have told me this, and relieved to find that no worse folly has caused a gentleman to seek employment as a common miner, though I cannot hold out the slightest hope that you will ever recover a dollar from your property. Still, I will make inquiries, and let you know anything I may learn."

"Thank you, sir."

"Do you know anything about boats?" asked the manager, abruptly changing the subject.

"Yes, sir; I have handled boats more or less all my life."

"Good! Then I want you to take charge of a gang of men whom you will find awaiting you on the company's tug down at the landing. They are going some distance up the coast, to recover whatever may be found of a valuable timber raft belonging to us, and wrecked near Laughing Fish Cove during the gale of two days ago. All our logs are marked 'W. P.' If you find any such in possession of other parties, you will lay claim to them, and even take them by force if necessary. The tug will leave you at the cove, where you will establish a camp, and to which you will raft the recovered logs, holding them against her return, which will be in about a week. Here is a note of introduction to her captain. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir; I think I do."

"Then you may start at once."

"Very well, sir;" and the young man, realizing his employer's love of promptness, rose to leave.

"By the way," said the other, as he reached the door, "is your name Peril?"

"No, sir; it is Peveril."

"Richard?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then this letter is probably for you. It has lain here several days, awaiting a claimant."

With this Major Arkell handed the young man a dainty-looking missive that he acknowledged to be for him, and which, as he thrust it into his pocket, he saw with a thrill of joy was addressed in the handwriting of Rose Bonnifay.

CHAPTER XI
NELLY TREFETHEN FINDS A LETTER

Having donned his best suit for the interview with Major Arkell, and realizing that his mine clothing would be more in keeping with the job now on hand, Peveril first hastened home to make the change. He found only Mrs. Trefethen in the house, and at sight of him she expressed an eager curiosity to learn the result of his recent interview.

"It's all right," he laughed, as he bounded up the narrow stairway leading to his room. "I'm to turn sailor, and be captain of a craft somewhere up the coast."

"Whativer can lad mean?" exclaimed the perplexed woman. "'Im a sailor! Did iver any one 'ear the like o' that? Oh, Maister Peril! be iver coming back?"

"Of course I am!" shouted Peveril from the little upper room, in which he was hastily changing his clothing. "I shall be back whenever my ship comes in, which will probably be in a week, or it may take a few days longer. There's a wreck, you know, and I am going to save the pieces. But I'll be down directly."

"A wrack!" gasped Mrs. Trefethen, "and 'im in hit! Save us! but 'twill be worse than down shaft. Shaft be dry land, anyway, but they awful sea that rageth like a lion seeking whom it may devour. Oh, Maister Peril!"

"Yes, coming!"

The young man was just then making a hasty transfer of the contents of his pockets, besides cramming into those of his working-suit several articles that he imagined might prove useful. At that moment an impatient whistle from the timber train that would take him to the landing warned him that he had no more time to spare, and, snatching his hat, he sprang down the stairway.

"Good-bye, Mrs. Trefethen!" he cried. "Tell Miss Nelly she sha'n't be turned out of her own room any longer, and tell her – But never mind; only tell her that I will have something important to say to her when I come back. Give her my love, and – " Here his words were cut short by another shrill whistle from the waiting train; and Peveril ran from the house, shouting back "Good-bye!" as he went, and leaving the good woman gasping with the breathless flurry of his departure.

When Nelly Trefethen reached home a half-hour later she received such a confused account of what had just happened as caused her rosy cheeks to take on a deeper color and filled her with a strange agitation. Mr. Peril had gone to be a sailor, and would come back very shortly as captain of a ship. Perhaps it would be a splendid, great steamer, such as she had seen lying at the Marquette ore docks. He had left his love for her; he would have something of the greatest importance to say the next time he saw her; and she was not to be turned out of her room again. What could he mean by that, and what a very strange thing it was for a young man to say? Since he had said it to her mother, though, it must have meant – Oh dear! how she wished she had not gone out that morning, and what an endless time a whole week seemed!

At length, anxious to escape from her mother's torrent of words, and to be alone with her own thoughts, the blushing girl fled up-stairs on the pretence of putting Mr. Peril's room in order.

The very first thing she spied on entering the room, about which his belongings were scattered in every direction, was a letter lying on the floor, and almost hidden beneath the bed. Picking it up, she was surprised to find it sealed, and still more so to note that it was addressed to Mr. Richard Peveril. How could that be? Was their guest living among them under an assumed name? No, of course he wouldn't do such a thing; and this letter must have been handed to him by mistake. That was the reason why he had not opened it. The names were very much alike in sound, though so differently spelled. Besides, this letter was addressed in a lady's handwriting, and evidently came from some foreign country. She knew Mr. Peril was an American, because he had said so. He had also told them that he was, so far as he knew, without a relative in the world, so there were no sisters or young lady cousins to write to him.

She did not think he could be engaged, because he had never mentioned the fact, while all the other young men of her acquaintance were in the habit of talking very freely about their "best girls," if they were so fortunate as to have such. Besides, had not Mr. Peril just left his love for her, and a message to the effect that he had something very important to tell her? She would keep this hateful letter, though, and confront him with it the moment she saw him again. Then his manner would convey the information she wanted. How she did long to open it and just glance at its contents! The impulse to do this was so strong that only by thrusting the letter into her pocket could she resist it.

Now the innocent cause of her perplexity seemed to burn like a coal of fire until she again drew it forth. A dozen times that day did she do this, with the temptation to set her doubts at rest by tearing open the sealed envelope always assailing her with increased force. Finally, to her great relief, an honorable way of escaping this temptation presented itself. She would return the horrid letter to the post-office. From there, if it were indeed for Mr. Peril, he would in due course of time receive it, as he had before; while, if it were intended for some one else, it would be delivered to its rightful owner. This plan was no sooner conceived than executed; and, as the troublesome missive disappeared through the narrow slit of the post-office letter-box, the girl heaved a sigh of relief.

When, the very next day, that identical letter was advertised on the post-office bulletin, and Nelly Trefethen saw the notice, she was assured that she had done the right thing. For ten days that advertisement stared her in the face whenever she visited the office, and then, to her great satisfaction, it disappeared. Rose Bonnifay's message from across the sea had gone to the place of "dead" letters, but Nelly believed that it had at last found its rightful owner.

On the very evening of Peveril's departure Miss Nelly's old sweetheart, Mike Connell, joined her for a walk, and, after much preliminary conversation, finally plucked up courage to ask if Mr. Peril had told her anything of importance before going away.

"What should he have to tell me?" asked the girl, evasively.

"He might have tould you that he liked you better than any other girl in the world," was the diplomatic answer.

"You know he'd never say a thing like that, Mr. Connell," cried Nelly, blushing furiously.

"Well, then, he might have said he was already bespoke."

"I don't believe it."

"It's true, all the same."

"What right have you to say so?" asked Nelly, whose face was now quite pale.

"The right of his own words, for he telled me so himself."

"Who is she?"

"He didn't say."

"Where does she live, then?"

"Divil a bit do I know."

"I don't believe you know anything at all about it. You are just making up a story to tease me."

"T'asing you is the last thing I'd be thinking of, Nelly darlin', except it was t'asing ye to marry me. No, alanna, it's the truth I'm telling you, and if you can't believe me just ax him. At the same time, I'm sore hurted that ye should be caring whether he's bespoke or no."

"I will ask him," answered the girl, "and until I do I'll thank you, Mr. Connell, never to mention Mr. Peril's name again."

"Not even to tell you what a brave, bowld lad he is, and how handsome?"

"You'd not be telling me anything I don't know."

"But, darlin', when he tells you with his own mouth that he's already bespoke and not to be had at all, you'll not refuse a bit of hope to one who loves the very ground trod by your two little feet."

"Good-night, Mr. Connell. Here's the door, and I'm going in."

In the meantime Peveril, after bidding good-bye to Mrs. Trefethen, had been whirled away by the little timber train to a landing on the lake shore, where he found the tug Broncho awaiting him. Towing behind it was a light double-ended skiff, and on its narrow deck he saw three men, dressed very much as he was himself, whom he knew must be those chosen to assist him in his forthcoming labors. One of them was a bright-looking French Canadian, while the others were evidently foreigners of the same class as the car-pushers in the mine. The captain of the tug was a Yankee named Spillins.

The latter glanced over the note from Major Arkell that the new-comer handed him, and said, "All right, Mr. Peril; if you're ready for a start, I am."

"Yes," replied Peveril, "I'm ready," and in another minute they were off. As they got under way the young leader of the expedition walked aft to make the acquaintance of his men. He was annoyed to find that, while two of them were brawny fellows who looked well fit for work, they could not muster a dozen words of English between them. Noting his efforts to converse with them, the third man, who introduced himself as Joe Pintaud, came to his assistance.

"No goot you talk to dem Dago feller, Mist Pearl," he said; "zey can spik ze Anglais no more as woodchuck. You tell 'em, 'dam lazy scoundrel,' zey onstan pret goot; but, by gar, you talk lak white man you got kick it in hees head."

Realizing the truth of Joe Pintaud's words, Peveril left the others to a stolid smoking of their long-stemmed pipes, and sought whatever information their more intelligent companion had to give concerning their present undertaking. He quickly discovered that, while Joe was as ignorant as himself of that coast, he was an expert raftsman and logger. He also found that the tug carried a good supply of rope, axes, pike-poles, and other things necessary for the work in hand.

After having satisfied himself on these points, Peveril gazed for a while at the bleak, rock-bound coast along which they were running, and then, suddenly bethinking himself of a pleasure that he had reserved for a leisure moment, he entered the pilot-house, and, sitting down on a cushioned locker behind Captain Spillins, who stood at the wheel, began to feel in his pockets.

As he did this his movements grew more and more impatient, until finally, with a muttered exclamation, he turned the entire contents of his pockets out on the cushion.

"Lost something?" asked the captain, looking around.

"Yes."

"Not your money, I hope."

"No, but a letter that was worth more to me than all the money in the world."

"Whew!" whistled the captain. "Must have been important."