Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Startling introduction of...
 Peveril ties "Blacky's" record
 A 'varsity stroke strikes adverse...
 Starting in search of the Copper...
 The Trefethens
 A mile beneath the surface
 Cornwall to the rescue
 In the new shaft
 Winning a friend by sheer...
 Heroism rewarded
 Nelly Trefethen finds a letter
 A vision of the cliffs
 Log-wreckers and smugglers
 A vain effort to recover stolen...
 Peveril in the hands of his...
 Lost in the prehistoric mine
 Underground wanderings
 From one trap into another
 "Darrell's folly" and its...
 Peveril is taken for a ghost
 Mike Connell to the rescue
 The signal is changed
 A battle with smugglers
 Connell makes good his escape
 A sea-fight on Lake Superior
 First news of the Copper Princ...
 A night with a madman
 Left in sole possession
 A royal name for a royal mine
 Peveril acquires an unshared...
 Back Cover

Group Title: The Copper Princess : a story of Lake Superior mines
Title: The Copper Princess
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00087085/00001
 Material Information
Title: The Copper Princess a story of Lake Superior mines
Physical Description: vi, 2, 304 p. : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Munroe, Kirk, 1850-1930
Rogers, W. A ( William Allen ), 1854-1931 ( Illustrator )
Harper & Brothers ( Publisher )
William Clowes and Sons ( Printer )
Publisher: Harper & Brothers
Place of Publication: London ;
New York
Manufacturer: William Clowes and Sons, Limited.
Publication Date: 1898
Subject: Copper mines and mining -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Miners -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Imprisonment -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Rescues -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Courage -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Smuggling -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Fathers and daughters -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Courtship -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Juvenile fiction -- Upper Peninsula (Mich.)   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1898
Genre: novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by Kirk Munroe ; illustrated by W.A. Rogers.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00087085
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002392366
notis - ALZ7263
oclc - 259808103

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Half Title
        Page i
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Table of Contents
        Page v
        Page vi
    List of Illustrations
        Page vii
    Startling introduction of Tom Trefethen
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
    Peveril ties "Blacky's" record
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
    A 'varsity stroke strikes adverse fortune
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
    Starting in search of the Copper Princess
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
    The Trefethens
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
    A mile beneath the surface
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Cornwall to the rescue
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
    In the new shaft
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
    Winning a friend by sheer pluck
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    Heroism rewarded
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
    Nelly Trefethen finds a letter
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
    A vision of the cliffs
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 123
        Page 124
    Log-wreckers and smugglers
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
    A vain effort to recover stolen property
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
    Peveril in the hands of his enemies
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
    Lost in the prehistoric mine
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
    Underground wanderings
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
    From one trap into another
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
    "Darrell's folly" and its owner
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
    Peveril is taken for a ghost
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
    Mike Connell to the rescue
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
    The signal is changed
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
    A battle with smugglers
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
    Connell makes good his escape
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
    A sea-fight on Lake Superior
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
    First news of the Copper Princess
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
    A night with a madman
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
    Left in sole possession
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
    A royal name for a royal mine
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
    Peveril acquires an unshared interest
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
        Page 304
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



[--The Baldwin Library i
g~g^ r



[Page 120.



A Story of Lake Superior Mines
of "The Painted Desert" "Rick
Dale" The "Mates" Series, etc.
Illustrated by W. A. ROGERS


Copyright, 1898, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
AlZ rights reserved.


V. THE TREFETHENS ... ... ... .. 42
VIII. IN THE NEW SHAFT ... ... ... ... 75
X. HEROISM REWARDED ... ... ... 97
XII. A VISION OF THE CLIFFS ... ... ... 116


XXVII. A NIGHT WITH A MADMAN ... ... ... 265


MOVEMENTS" ... ... ... ... ... 17

PEVERIL GOES TO WORK ... ... ... ... 49




BUSHES ... ... ... ... ... .. 151





RESCUED FROM THE SHAFT ... ... ... ... 261

PEVERIL PINDS MARY AGAIN ... ... ... ... 301




"LOOK out, there 1 "
"My God, he is under the wheels I"
The narrow-gauge train for Red Jacket had just
started from the Hancock station, and was gathering
quick headway for its first steep grade, when a youth
ran from the waiting-room and attempted to leap
aboard the "smoker." Missing the step, he fell
between two cars, though still clutching a hand-rail of
the one he had attempted to board.
With cries of horror, several of those who witnessed
the incident from the station platform averted their
faces, unwilling to view the ghastly tragedy that they
believed must occur in another instant.


At sound of their cries, a neatly dressed young fellow,
broad-shouldered and of splendid physique, who was in
the act of mounting the car-steps, turned, and instantly
comprehended the situation. Without a moment of
hesitation he dropped the bag he was carrying and
flung his body over the guard-rail, catching at its
supporting stanchions with his knees. In this position,
with his arms stretched to their utmost, he managed to
grasp the coat-collar of the unfortunate youth who was
being dragged to his death. In another moment he
had, by a supreme effort, lifted the latter bodily to
the platform.
Those who witnessed this superb exhibition of
promptly applied strength from the station platform
gave a cheer as the train swept by, but their voices
were drowned in its clatter, and the two actors in, their
thrilling drama were unaware that it had been noticed.
The rescued youth sat limp and motionless on the
swaying platform where he had been placed, dazed by
the suddenness and intensity of his recent terror; while
the other leaned against the guard-rail, recovering from
his tremendous effort. After a few minutes of quick
breathing he pulled himself together and helped his
companion into the car, where they found a vacant


A few of the passengers noted the entrance of two
young men, one of whom seemed to be in need of the
other's assistance, and glanced at them with meaning
smiles. There had been races at Hancock that day,
and they evidently believed that these two had attended
them. No one spoke to them, however, and it quickly
became apparent that the supremest moment in the
life of one of the two, which would also have been
his last on earth but for the other, had passed un-
noticed by any of the scores of human beings in closest
proximity to them at the time.
It was hard to realize this, and for a few minutes
the young men sat in silence, dreading but expecting
to be overwhelmed with a clamour of questions. It
was a relief to find that they were to be unmolested,
and when the conductor had passed on after punching
their tickets, the one who had rescued the other turned
to him with a smile, saying:
"No one knows anything about it, for which let us
be grateful."
You can bet I'm grateful, Mister, in more ways
than one," answered the other, his eyes filling with
the tears of a deep emotion as he spoke. "I won't
forget in a hurry that you've saved my life, and from
this time on, if ever you can make any use of so


poor a chap as me, I'm your man. My name's Tom
Trefethen, and I live in Red Jacket, where I run a
compressor for No. 3 shaft of the White Pine Mine.
That's all there is to me, for I 'ain't never done any-
thing else, don't know anything else, and expect I'm
no good for anything else. So, you see, I hain't got
much to offer in exchange for what you've just give
me; same time, I'm your friend all right, from this
minute, and I wouldn't do a thing for you only just
what you say; but that goes, every time."
That's all right, Tom, and don't you worry about
trying to make any return for the service I have been
able to render you. I won't call it a slight service,
because to do so would be to undervalue the life I
was permitted to save. Besides, you have already
repaid me by giving me a friend, which was the thing
of which I stood in greatest need, and had almost
despaired of gaining."
"Why, Mister- "
"Peveril," interrupted the other. Richard Peveril
is my name, though the friends I used to have.
generally called me 'Dick Peril.'"
Used to have, Mr. Peril? Do you mean by that
that you hain't got any friends now ?"
"I mean that five minutes ago it did not seem as


though I had a friend in the world; but now I have
one, who, I hope, will prove a very valuable one as
well, and his name is Tom Trefethen."
"It's good of you to say so, Mr. Peril, though how
a poor, ignorant chap like me can prove a valuable
friend to a swell like you is more than I can make
At this the other smiled. I don't know just what
you mean by a swell," he said. But I suppose you
mean a gentleman of wealth and leisure. If so, I cer-
tainly am no more of a swell than you, nor so much,
for I have just expended my last dollar for this rail-
road ticket, and have no idea where I shall get another.
In fact, I do not know where I shall obtain a supper
or find a sleeping-place for to-night, and think it
extremely probable that I shall go without either. I
hope very much, though, to find a job of work to-morrow
that will provide me with both food and shelter for
the immediate future."
"Work! Are you looking for work ?" asked Tom,
gazing at Peveril's natty travelling-suit, and speaking
with a tone of incredulity.
That is what I have come to this country to look
for," was the smiling answer. "I came here because
I was told that this was the one section of the United


States unaffected by hard times, and because I had a
letter of introduction to a gentleman in Hancock
whom I thought would assist me in getting a position.
To my great disappointment, he had left town, to be
gone for several months, and as I could not afford to
await his return, I applied for work at the Quincy and
other mines, only to be refused."
"Is it work in the mines you are looking for? "
asked Tom Trefethen, evidently doubting if he had
heard aright.
"Yes, that or any other by which I can make an
honest living."
"Well, sir, I wouldn't have believed it if any one
but yourself had told me."
But you must believe it, for it is true, and I am
now on my way to Red Jacket because I have been
told there is more work to be had there than at any
other place in the whole copper region, or in the State,
for that matter."
"And more people to do it, too," muttered Tom
Trefethen, as he sank into a brown-study.
By this time the train had climbed from the muddy
level of Portage Lake, which with its recently cut ship-
canals bisects Keweenaw Point, making of its upper
end an island, and was speeding northward over a


rough upland. Its way led through a naked country
of rocks and low-growing scrub, for the primitive
growth of timber had been stripped for use in the
mines. Every now and then it passed tall shaft-houses
and chimneys, belching forth thick volumes of smoke,
which, with their clustering villages, marked the sites
of copper-mines. Finally, as darkness began to shroud
the uninteresting landscape, the train entered the
environs of a widespread and populous community,
where huge mine buildings reared themselves from
surrounding acres of the small but comfortable dwell-
ings of North-country miners. Everywhere shone
electric lights, and everywhere was a swarming
Peveril gazed from his car window in astonishment.
"What place is this ?" he asked.
"Red Jacket," answered his companion. "That is,
it is Red Jacket, Blue Jacket, Yellow Jacket, Stone
Pipe, Osceola, White Pine, and several other mining
villages bunched together and holding in all about
twenty-five thousand people."
"Whew! and I expected to find a place of not over
one thousand inhabitants."
You don't know much about the copper country,
that's a fact," said Tom Trefethen, with the slight air


of superiority that residents of a place are so apt to
assume towards strangers. "Why, a single company
here employs as many as three thousand men."
I am willing to admit my ignorance," rejoined
Peveril, "but I am also very anxious to learn things,
and hope in course of time to rank as a first-class
miner. Therefore, any information you can give me
will be gratefully received. To begin with, I wish you
would tell me the name of some hotel where my grip
will serve as security for a few days' board and
"A hotel, Mr. Peril! You can't be feeling so very
poor if you are thinking of going to a hotel. Or per-
haps you don't know how expensive our Red Jacket
hotels are. You see, there is always such a rush of
business here that prices are way up. Why, they
don't think anything of charging two dollars a day;
and they get it, too-don't give you anything extra
in the way of grub, either. I can do lots better than
that for you, though. There's a plenty of boarding-
houses here that'll fix you up in great shape for five
a week. You just wait here at the station a few
minutes while I go and look up one that I know of."
Without waiting for a reply Tom Trefethen hurried
from the train, which was just coming to a stop at the


bustling Red Jacket station, and disappeared in the
crowd of spectators who had gathered to witness its
arrival. Peveril followed more slowly, and, depositing
the handsome dress-suit case that he had learned to
call a "grip in a vacant corner of the platform, pre-
pared to await the return of his only acquaintance in
all that community, "or in the whole State of Michi-
gan, so far as I know," reflected the young man.
"As for friends, I wonder if I have any anywhere.
This Tom Trefethen claims to have a friendly feeling
towards me, and, if he comes back, I will try to believe
in him. It is more than likely, though, that his leav-
ing me here is only a way of escaping an irksome
obligation, and I shouldn't be one bit surprised never
to see him again. It seems to be the way of the
world, that if you place a fellow under an obligation
he begins to dislike you from that moment. My!
if all the fellows whom I have helped would only pay
what they owe me, how well fixed I should be at this
minute. I could, even put up with a clear conscience
at one of Tom Trefethen's two-dollar-a-day hotels.
What an unsophisticated chap he is, anyway. Wonder
what he would say to the Waldorf charges ? And yet
only a short time ago I thought them very moderate.
It's a queer old world, and a fellow has to see all sides


of it before he can form an idea of what it is really
like. I must confess, however, that I am not parti-
cularly enjoying my present point of view. Must
be because I am so infernally hungry. Odd sensa-
tion, and so decidedly unpleasant that if my friend
with the Cornish name doesn't return inside of two
minutes more I shall abandon our tryst and set forth
in search of a supper."
At this point in his dismal reflections Peveril
became aware of a short, solidly built man, having a
grizzled beard, and wearing a rough suit of ill-fitting
clothing, who was standing squarely before him and
regarding him intently. As their eyes met, the new-
comer asked, abruptly:
"Be thy name Richard, lad ?"
What's t'other part of it ?"
Peveril. And may I inquire why you ask ?"
"Because, lad, in all t' world thee has not a truer
friend, nor one more ready to serve thee, than old
Mark Trefethen. So come along of me, and gi' me a
chance to prove my words."



"ARE you the father of Tom Trefethen?" asked
Peveril of the man who had so abruptly introduced
"Certain I be, lad, feyther to the young fool who,
but for thee, would never have come home to us no
more. His mother was that upset by thought of his
danger that she couldn't let him leave her, and so
bade me come to fetch you mysel'. Not that I needed
a bidding, for I'm doubly proud of a chance to serve
the man who's gied us back our Tom. So come along,
lad, to where there's a hearty welcome waiting, together
with a bite and a bed."
"But, Mr. Trefethen, I can't allow you to- "
"Man, you must allow me, for I'm no in the habit
o' being crossed. Besides, I'd never dare go back to
mother without you. This thy grip ?"


With this the brawny miner swung Peveril's bag
to his shoulder, and started briskly down the station
platform, followed closely by the young man, who but
a moment before had believed himself to be without
a friend.
They had not gone more than a block from the
station, and Peveril was wondering at the crowds of
comfortable-looking folk who thronged the wooden
sidewalks, as well as at the rows of brilliantly lighted
shops, when his guide turned abruptly into the door
of a saloon.
Following curiously, the young man also entered, and,
passing behind a latticed screen, found himself in a
long room having a sanded floor, and furnished with a
glittering bar, tables, chairs, and several queer-looking
machines, the nature of which he did not understand.
Several men were leaning against the counter of the
bar; but without noticing them other than by a
general nod of recognition, Mark Trefethen walked to
the far end of the room, where he deposited Peveril's
bag on the floor beside one of the machines already
It was a narrow, upright frame, placed close to the
wall, and holding a stout wooden panel. In the centre
of this, at the height of a man's chest, was a stuffed


leather pad, on which was painted a grotesque face,
evidently intended for that of a negro, and above it was
a dial bearing numbers that ranged from 1 to 300.
The single pointer on this dial indicated the number
173, a figure at which Mark Trefethen sniffed con-
"Let's see thee take a lick at 'Blacky,' lad, just for
luck," he said.
Although he had never before seen or even heard of
such a machine as now confronted him, Peveril was
sufficiently quick-witted to realize that his companion
desired him to strike a blow with his fist at the grin-
ning face painted on the leather pad, and he did so
without hesitation. At the same time, as he had no
idea of what resistance he should encounter, he struck
out rather gingerly, and the dial-pointer sprang back
to 156.
Mark Trefethen looked at once incredulous and dis-
appointed. "Surely that's not thy best lick, lad," he
said, in an aggrieved tone; "why, old as I am, I could
better it mysel'." Thus saying, the miner drew back a
fist like a sledge-hammer, and let drive a blow at
"Blacky" that sent the pointer up to 180.
"Now, lad, try again," he remarked, with a self-
satisfied air; and remember, what I should have telled


thee afore, that the man who lets pointer slip back owes
beer to the crowd."
SWondering how he should cancel the indebtedness
thus innocently incurred, and also at the strangeness of
such proceedings on the part of one who had just in-
vited him to a much-longed-for supper, Peveril again
stepped up and delivered a nervous blow against the
unresisting leather pad, driving the pointer to 184.
The miner's shout of "Well done, lad! That's
spunky," attracted the idlers at the bar and brought
them to the scene of contest. They arrived just in
time to see Trefethen deliver his second blow, the force
of which drove the sensitive needle six points farther
on, or until it registered 190.
With a flush of pride on his strongly marked face,
the old Cornishman exclaimed, "There's a mark for
thee, lad, but don't 'ee strike 'less thee can better it,
for I'd like it to stand for a while."
Peveril only smiled in answer, and, taking a quick
forward step, planted so vigorous a blow upon the
painted leather that the pointer gained a single in-
terval. So small were the spaces that at first it was
thought not to have moved; but when a closer ex-
amination showed it to indicate 191, a murmur of
approbation went up from the spectators. Mark


Trefethen said not a word, but, throwing off his coat
and baring his corded arm for a mighty effort, he again
took place before the machine. Carefully measuring
his distance, he drew back and delivered a blow into
which he threw the whole weight of his body. As
though galvanized into action, the needle leaped up
four points and registered 195.
"A record! A record!" shouted the spectators,
while the miner turned a face beaming with triumph
towards his athletic young antagonist. On many an
occasion had he played at solitaire fisticuffs with that
leather dummy, but never before had he struck it
such a mighty blow, and now he did not believe that
another in all Red Jacket could equal the feat he had
just performed.
"Lat it stand, lad! Lat it stand!" he said, good-
humouredly, but in a tone unmistakably patronizing.
" You've done enough to take front rank, for not more
than three men in all the Jackets have ever beat your
figure. Besides, the beer is on the house now for a
record, but 'twill be on any man who lowers yon-so
best lat well enough alone."
This advice was tendered in all sincerity, and was
doubtless very good, but Peveril was now too deeply
interested in the novel contest to accept defeat without


a further effort. Besides, the stroke-oar of a winning
crew in the great Oxford-Cambridge boat-race, which
is what Dick Peveril had been only two monthsi'Y
earlier, was not accustomed to be beaten in athletic
So he, too, threw off his coat and bared the glorious
right arm that had at once been the pride of his college
and the envy of every other in the 'varsity. In breath-
less silence the little group of spectators watched his
movements, and when, with sharply exhaled breath,
he planted a crashing facerr" straight from the
shoulder squarely upon the leather disk they sprang
eagerly forward to note the result. For an instant they
gazed at each other blankly, for the needle, though
trembling violently, remained fixedly pointing at the
figure 195.
Then they realized what had happened. Mark
Trefethen's score had been neither raised nor lowered,
but had been duplicated. A double record had been
established, and that in a single contest. Such a
thing had never before happened in Red Jacket, where
trials of strength and skill similar to the one they
had just witnessed were of frequent occurrence. As
the amazing truth broke upon them, they raised a
great shout of applause, and every man present pressed

F- ~ ~

I' '14
A- vt
*' *. ;,o
A. ~r
I .. -

MOVEMENTS" [Page 16.


eagerly about the two champions with cordially ex-
tended hands.
But Peveril and the old miner were already shaking
hands with each other, for Mark Trefethen had been
the first to appreciate the result of his opponent's
blow, and had whirled around from his examination
of the dial to seize the young man's hand in both
of his.
"Now I believe it, lad! he cried. "Now I believe
the story boy Tom telled this night. I couldn't make
it seem possible that you had lifted him as he said,
and so I wanted proof. Now I'm got it, and now I
know you for best man that's come to mines for many
a year. Pray God, lad, that you and me '11 never
have a quarrel to settle wi' bare fists, for I'm free
to say I'd rather meet any either two men in the
Jackets than the one behind the fist that struck yon
"You will never meet him in a quarrel if I can
help it, Mr. Trefethen," replied Peveril, flushing with
gratified pride, "for I can't imagine anything that
would throw me into a greater funk than to face as
an enemy the man who established the existing record
on that machine. But, now, don't you think we
might adjourn to the supper of which you spoke awhile


since ? I was never quite so famished in my life, and
am nearly ready to drop with the exhaustion of hunger."
"Oh, Jimmy! groaned one of the listening specta-
tors. "If 'e done wot 'e did hon a hempty stummick,
hit's evenn 'elp the man or the machine 'e 'its when
'e's full."
"Step up for your beers, gentlemen," cried the
bartender at this moment. "The house owes two
rounds for the double record, and is proud to pay a
debt so handsomely thrust upon it."
This invitation was promptly accepted by the
spectators of the recent contest, all of whom immedi-
ately lined up at the bar. Mark Trefethen stood with
them, and when he noticed that Peveril held back, he
called out, heartily, "Step up, lad, and don't be
bashful. We're waiting to take a mug wi' thee."
"I thank you all," rejoined Peveril, politely, "but
I believe I don't care to drink anything just now."
"What! Not teetotal ?"
"Not wholly," replied the other, with a laugh, "but
I long ago made it a rule not to take liquor in any
form on an empty stomach."
"Oh, it won't hurt you. And this time needn't
count, anyway," said one of the men, whose features
proclaimed him to be of Irish birth.


"I think it would hurt me," replied Peveril, "and
if my rule could be broken at this time, of course
it could at any other. So I believe I won't drink
anything, thank you."
"You mane you're a snob, and don't care to associate
with working-men," retorted the other.
"I mean nothing of the kind, but exactly what I
said, that I don't propose to injure my health to
gratify you or any other man. As for associating with
working-men, I am a working-man myself, and have
come to this place with the hope of finding a job in one
of the mines. If I hadn't wanted to associate with
working-men I shouldn't be here at this minute."
"Well, you can't associate with them in one thing
if not in all, Mr. Workingman," rejoined the Irishman,
sneeringly, "and so, if you won't drink with us, you
can't become one of us."
"That's right," murmured several voices.
"Moreover," continued the speaker, "you don't look,
talk, or act like a working-man, and I'm willing to bet
the price of these beers that you never earned a dollar
by honest labour in your life."
If I didn't, that's no reason why I shouldn't."
But did you ?"
No, I never did."


"I knew it from the first," exclaimed the other,
triumphantly, "you're nothing but a d-d-- "
"Shut up, Mike Connell! don't ye dare say it!"
shouted Mark Trefethen, shaking a knotted fist in close
proximity to the Irishman's face. "How dare you
insult the friend I've brought to this place ? Lad's
right about the liquor, too, and damned if I'll drink a
drop of it mysel'. Same time, working-man or no,
he's worth any two of you wi' his fists, and, I'll bate,
has more brains than the rest of us put together. So
keep a civil tongue in your head in the presence of
your betters, Mike Connell. Come, lad, time we were
getting home. Mother '11 be fretting for us."
Thus saying, the sturdy miner laid his toil-hardened
hand on Peveril's shoulder and led him from the place.



RICHARD PEVERIL, student at Christ Church, was not
only one of the most popular men in his own college,
but, as stroke of the 'varsity eight, was becoming one
of the best known of Oxford undergraduates when the
blow was struck that compelled him to leave England
and return to the land of his birth without even waiting
to try for his degree. He had been an orphan from
early boyhood, and, under the nominal care of a
guardian who saw as little of his charge as possible,
had passed most of his time in American boarding-
schools, until sent abroad to finish his education.
While his guardian had never been unkind to him, he
had not tried to understand the boy or to win his
affection, but had placed him at the best schools,
supplied him liberally with pocket-money, and then
let him alone.


Although the lad had thus been denied the softening
influence of a home, the tender care of a mother, and a
father's counsel, his school-life had trained him to self-
reliance, prompt obedience to lawful authority, a strict
sense of honour, and to a physical condition so perfect
that in all his life he had never known a day's sickness.
Having always had plenty of money, he had never
learned its value, though in his school-days his allow-
ance had been limited by the same wise rules that also
checked undue extravagance. Thus, while brought up
to live and spend money like a gentleman, he had not
been permitted to acquire vicious habits.
Even at college his allowance had always been in
excess of his needs, and so, though ever ready to help
a friend in trouble, he had never run into debt on his
own account.
Another influence for good was the lad's inherited
love for all out-of-door sports, and he could not re-
member the time when he was not in training for a
team, a crew, or an athletic event of some kind. Thus
the keeping of regular hours, together with a studied
temperance in both eating and drinking, had been
grafted into his very nature.
Life had thus been made very pleasant for our
hero, and, believing himself to be heir to a fortune, he


had never been disturbed by anxieties concerning the
future. Of course, while he had hosts of acquaintances,
most of whom called themselves his friends, he was
well aware that some of them were envious of his
position and would rejoice at his downfall, should such
an event ever take place. It was partly this know-
ledge, partly his own sense of absolute security in life,
and partly a habit acquired during a long career of
leadership among his school companions, that rendered
him brusque with those for whom he did not particu-
larly care and contemptuous to the verge of rudeness
towards such persons as he disliked. Thus it will be
seen that our young man possessed a facility for the
making of enemies as well as friends.
Of his secret enemies the most bitter was a fellow-
student, also an American, named Owen, who, possessed
of barely means enough to carry him through college,
and with no prospects, had, by relinquishing every-
thing else, taken much the same stand in scholarship
that Peveril had in athletics. As a consequence,
each was envious of the other, for the stroke of the
'varsity eight was so little of a student that he had
never more than barely scraped through with an
examination in his life, and was always overwhelmed
with conditions. This jealousy would not, however,


have led to enmity without a further cause, which had
been furnished within a year.
Owen had crossed on a steamer with Mrs. Maturin
Bonnifay, of New York, and her only daughter, Rose.
They did London together, and never had the young
American found that smoke-begrimed city so delightful.
At his solicitation the Bonnifays consented to visit
Oxford, and permitted him to act as their escort. In
contemplating the pleasure of such a visit, Owen had
lost sight of its dangers; but, alas for his happiness!
they became only too quickly apparent.
The ladies must be taken to the river, of course, and
there the one thing above all others to see was the
'varsity eight at practice. Of the entire crew none
attracted such instant attention as the stroke-oar, and
when they learned that he was an American their
interest in him was doubled.
Of course he and Mr. Owen, being compatriots in
a strange land, and both having done so splendidly at
the dear old university, must be friends.
Oh, certainly.
Then wouldn't Mr. Owen present his friend? It
was always so pleasant to meet the right kind of
Americans when abroad. "Why! There he comes
now! I am sure that must be he; isn't it, Mr. Owen ?


Though one does look so different in a boat and out
of it."
It was indeed Peveril, who had purposely sauntered
in that direction for a closer view of the pretty girl
whom "Dig" Owen, of all men, had picked up; and,
in another minute, Owen, with an extremely bad
grace, had introduced him.
From that moment, as is always the case when
athletes and scholars compete for feminine favour, the
scholar was almost ignored, while his muscular rival
was petted to a degree that Owen declared simply
scandalous. Although the latter was still allowed to
act as second-best escort to the ladies, and form a
fourth in their various excursions, it was always
Peveril who walked, sat, strolled, and talked with Miss
Rose, while Owen was monopolized by her mother.
The Bonnifays had only intended to spend a day
or two in Oxford, but the place proved so charmingly
attractive that they remained a month, and when they
finally took their departure for the Continent Miss
Rose wore a superb diamond ring on the third finger
of her left hand, that had very recently been placed
there by Peveril.
Before they separated it had been arranged that
he and they should travel through Norway together


during the following summer. Owen had also been
invited to join the party, but had declined on the
ground that immediately upon taking his degree he
would be obliged to return to America.
So that winter the scholar, filled with envy and
bitterness, ground away gloomily but persistently at
his books; while the athlete, radiant with happiness,
steadily cheerful and good-natured, laboured with his
crew. Finally, he stroked them to a win on the
Thames, and then, at the height of his glory, began to
consider his chances for a degree. At this moment
the blow was struck, and it came in the shape of a
cablegram from a New York law firm.

"Return at earliest convenience. Carson dead. Affairs
badly involved."

Boise Carson was the guardian whom Peveril had
so seldom seen, but who had always controlled his
affairs and provided so liberally for all his wants.
Upon coming of age, a few months before, Peveril had
sent over a power of attorney, and his ex-guardian
had continued to act for him as before. They were
to have had a settlement when the young man took
his degree, for which purpose he had planned to run
over to New York, spend a few days there, and return


in time for his Norway trip with the Bonnifays. In
the autumn he and they would sail for New York
together, and the wedding would take place as soon
thereafter as was practicable.
Now this wretched cablegram promised to upset
everything, and he must look forward to spending the
summer in trying to disentangle an involved business,
instead of spending it with the girl of his heart.
Perhaps, though, "badly involved" did not mean so
very badly, and possibly he might get through with the
hated business in time for the Norway trip after all, if
he only set to work at once. Of course that would
necessitate the giving up of his degree, but what
difference did that make ? Other things were of
infinitely more importance.
So Peveril bade farewell to Oxford, wrote a long
letter, full of love and hopeful promises, to Rose
Bonnifay, at Rome, sent her a reassuring telegram from
Southampton, and sailed for New York. Having been
so long absent, he found very few friends in that city,
and it seemed to him that some even of those few
greeted him with a constraint bordering on coldness.
As Boise Carson, who had lived and died a bachelor,
had roomed at the Waldorf, Peveril also established
himself in that palatial caravansary, and was then


ready to plunge into the business that had brought him
to America.
His first shock came from the lawyer who had sum-
moned him, and who at once told him that he feared
everything was lost.
"I don't exactly understand what you mean," said
"In plain terms, then, I am afraid that your late
guardian not only squandered his own fortune in un-
wise speculation, but yours as well. Perhaps this note,
left for you, will explain the situation."
Thus saying, the lawyer handed Peveril a sealed
envelope addressed to him in the well-known hand-
writing of Boise Carson. Tearing it open, the young
man read as follows:

Having lost everything, including your fortune
and my own honour, I have no longer an object in living.
I therefore conclude that it will be best to efface myself as
speedily as possible. I have made a will, leaving you my
sole heir and executor. You are welcome to whatever you
can save from the wreck. All papers belonging to your
father and left in my charge will be handed you by Mr.
Ketchum. Good-bye.
Yours, for the last time,


"He didn't commit suicide ?" exclaimed Peveril,
"It is to be feared that he did," replied the lawyer,
and the state of his affairs bears out the supposition."
After this Peveril spent a month in New York, try-
ing to recover something from the wreck of his fortune.
At the end of that time he found himself with less than
one hundred dollars over and above his obligations.
Realizing at length that he must for the future depend
entirely upon his own efforts, he made several applica-
tions for vacant positions in the city, only to find in
every case that they were also sought by men more
competent to fill them than he.
One day, when, for want of something better to do,
he was mechanically looked over a package of old
papers that had belonged to his father, he came across
a contract of partnership between his parent and a
certain Ralph Darrell. It was for the opening and
development of a mine, to be known as the "Copper
Princess," and located in the upper peninsula of
Michigan. By the terms of the contract the partnership
was to exist for twenty years, and, if either party died
during that time, his heir or heirs were to accept the
liabilities and receive all benefits accruing to an original
partner. It was, however, provided that the claims of


such heirs must be made before expiration of the con-
tract, otherwise the entire property would fall into
possession of the longest-surviving partner or his heirs.
The document bore a date nineteen years old.
"Well," said Peveril, reflectively, as he finished
reading this paper, although everything else is lost,
it would seem that as my father's sole heir I am still
half-owner in a copper mine. I wonder if it is worth
looking up ?"



VIEWED through the sanguine eyes of youth, the
possession of a half-interest in a copper mine seemed
to offer a ready solution of Peveril's recent difficulties.
He vaguely recalled stories of great fortunes made
in copper, and speculated concerning the market value
of his newly discovered property. "There must be
plenty of people ready to buy such things, if they are
only offered cheaply enough," he said to himself; "and
Heaven knows I wouldn't hold out for any fancy price.
Ten thousand dollars, or even five, would be sufficient
for the Norway trip, and after that something would be
certain to turn up."
Of all his trials none had seemed so hard to bear
as the giving up of that journey to Norway, and now
it might be accomplished, after all. He had written
several letters to Rose since reaching New York, and


at first they had been filled with hopes of a speedy
reunion. Then, as he began to realize the condition
of his fortunes, they became less frequent and less
hopeful, until for some weeks, not knowing what to
write, he had not written at all.
Now filled with a new courage, he wrote a long
and cheerful letter, in which he stated a belief that his
business troubles were so nearly ended that he would
speedily be able to join his friends in Norway. This
letter, finished and mailed, the young mine-owner
visited his lawyer, to inform him of his discovery
and learn its probable value.
Mr. Ketchum smiled grimly as he glanced at the
contract on which Peveril was building such high
hopes, and then, handing it back, said, pityingly:
"My dear boy, I hate to dash your hopes, but I
doubt if this thing is worth anything more than the
paper on which it is written. Boise Carson brought
it to us years ago, and we looked into it at that time.
We discovered that a property located somewhere in
Northern Michigan, and supposed to be rich in copper,
had been purchased at a stiff price by your father and
this Ralph Darrell, who was a banker in one of the
New England cities-Boston, I believe. They chris-
tened it the 'Copper Princess,' invested nearly a


million dollars in a complete mining-plant, and sank a
shaft into barren rock. Not one cent did the mine ever
yield, and the deeper they went the poorer became
their prospects. Finally, Darrell, completely ruined
financially, became crazed by his troubles and dis-
appeared; nor has he ever been heard from since.
Your father, having put half of his fortune into the
venture, brooded over its loss until his death, which,
I am convinced, was largely caused by the failure of
the Copper Princess."
"What became of the property after that?" asked
Peveril, who had listened with a sinking heart to this
"I believe it stands to-day, as it was abandoned
years ago, one of the many monuments of ruined
hopes in that country of squandered fortunes."
But there is copper in that region, is there not ?"
"Certainly there is, and in fabulous quantity, but
apparently not in the immediate vicinity of the
Copper Princess."
"Did you visit the place yourself ?"
"No. We conducted our inquiries through a mine-
owner of Hancock, which was at that time the nearest
town of importance to the property."
"Does your correspondent still live there ?"


I believe so. At any rate, he did within a year."
Will you give me a note of introduction to him,
and also a paper of identification, by which I may
substantiate my claim to a half-ownership in the
Copper Princess?"
"Certainly I will; but may I ask how you propose
to use such documents? You surely do not intend
to visit the property with the hope that anything can
be realized from it ?"
"I don't think I have much hope of any kind just
now," replied Peveril, bitterly. "But I suppose there
is as much work to be done in the copper country
as anywhere else, while my chances of obtaining
employment there will at least be as good as they
are here. Besides, it will be a sort of satisfaction
to gaze upon the only existing evidence that there
ever was a fortune in the family. You said that
buildings of some sort had been erected on the
property, did you not ?"
"Yes, according to my recollection there was quite
a village of miners' houses, besides all the other
necessary structures."
"Then I may at least discover a roof under which
I can dwell, rent free, while the sensation of finding
myself lord of a manor will be decidedly novel."


Having thus decided upon a course of action, our
young mine-owner lost no time in carrying out his
newly formed plans. That very afternoon he pur-
chased a ticket for Buffalo, from which point he
proposed to economize his slender resources by taking
a lake steamer to his point of destination. His last
duty before leaving New York, and the one from
which he shrank most, was the writing of a second
letter to Rose, telling her that the trip to Norway
was no longer a possibility, so far as he was concerned.
He wrote:

"I am suddenly confronted with the necessity of taking
rather a long Western journey, to investigate the condition
of a mine in which I own a half-interest. I hate to go,
because every mile will lengthen the distance between us,
and am more bitterly disappointed than I can express at
being compelled to give up our Norwegian trip. But my
call to the West is imperative, and must be obeyed. So,
dear, let us bear our disappointment as best we can, for I
hope it is one to you as well as to me, and look forward to
a joyful reunion in this city next autumn."

The epistle, of which the above is but a fragment,
not only caused Miss Bonnifay to utter an impatient
exclamation as she read it, but also led to complica-
Feeling that, with Peveril safely across the Atlantic,


there might be some hope for him, Owen had recon-
sidered his determination not to go to Norway, and had
written from Oxford, offering to escort the ladies on
that trip. His letter reached them in company with
that from Peveril announcing that he too would shortly
be with them. Thereupon Mrs. Bonnifay replied to
Owen that, while they should be delighted to have him
join their party, he must not inconvenience himself to
do so, as Mr. Peveril's business was in such shape that
he would be able to carry out his original intention of
accompanying them.
Then came Peveril's second letter, stating that he
could not leave America, after all, and the elder lady
hurriedly penned the following note:

We are so glad that you can accompany us to
Norway, the more so that Mr. Peveril will, after all, be
prevented from so doing. He has just written that busi-
ness of the utmost importance, connected with an immensely
valuable mine that he owns somewhere in the West, will
prevent his leaving America this summer. Of course he is
in despair, and all that, while we are awfully sorry for him,
but we shall not allow our grief to interfere in the least
with the pleasure we are anticipating from a trip to Norway
under your escort. Hoping, then, to see you here very soon
I remain," etc., etc.


Quickly as this letter followed its immediate prede-
cessor, it arrived too late to accomplish its purpose;
for, on the very day that he received it, Owen had
cabled his acceptance of a position offered him in the
United States and procured his ticket for New York.
"Was ever a man so cursed by fate!" he cried, as
he finished reading Mrs. Bonnifay's note; or, rather,
by the stupidity of a blundering idiot! I don't believe
Dick Peveril cares a rap for the girl; if he did, he
would not desert her on any such flimsy pretext.
The idea of his having business with a mine! He
never did have any business, and never will. How I
hate the fellow !"
With this, Mr. Owen composed a letter to Mrs.
Bonnifay, in which his regrets at the miscarriage of
their plans were skilfully interwoven with insinuations
that possibly Peveril had found America to hold even
greater attractions than Norway. He also promised to
keep them informed concerning the latest New York
This promise he redeemed two weeks later by for-
warding whatever of gossip he could gather regarding
Peveril. It included the information that the latter
had not only lost his fortune, but had sought so unsuc-
cessfully for employment in the city that he had finally


been obliged to leave it, and no one knew whither he
had gone. Having accomplished this piece of work,
Mr. Owen also departed from New York, and turned
his face westward.
In the mean time, Peveril, happily unconscious of
these several epistles, was finding his own path beset
by trials such as he had never encountered on any
previous journey, for they were those caused by a
scarcity of funds with which to meet his every-day
His determination to economize failed because of
his ignorance of the first principles of economy.
Besides that, his appearance, his manner, his dress,
and his personal belongings were all so many protests
against economy. Thus, when he inquired concerning
a hotel in Buffalo, no one thought of naming any save
the most expensive, and he drove to it in a carriage,
because he did not know how else to reach it. Then
it happened that the first boat leaving for the Superior
country was the Northland, one of the most luxurious
and extravagant of lake craft. To be sure, she was
also the swiftest, and would carry him through without
loss of time; but when he left her at the Sault, as he
found he must in order to reach the copper country,
his scanty stock of money was depleted beyond


anything he had deemed possible on so short a trip.
From the Sault he travelled by rail, and finally reached
Hancock with but five dollars in his pocket.
Then, failing to find the only person to whom he
had a note of.introduction, and also being unable to
obtain work, he finally expended his last dollar for
transportation to Red Jacket, where he knew he must
either find employment or starve. And thus was our
hero led to the point at which we first made his



As Peveril walked with his newly-made acquaintance
through the brisk mining-town, of whose very name he
had been ignorant until that day, Mark Trefethen
directed his attention to its various places and objects
of interest. Of one small but handsome stone building,
surrounded by grass and shade-trees, he said:
"There's where the swells gets their beer."
Peveril instantly knew it for a club-house, and, with
a pang of regret for the lost comforts of such an
establishment, glanced enviously at its cosy interior,
disclosed through open windows.
At length they reached the modest cottage, built on
the plan of a hundred others, that Mark Trefethen
rented from the company and called his home. The
room into which Peveril was ushered was scrupulously
clean and neat, but seemed to him painfully bare and


cheerless. It was lighted by a single, unshaded lamp,
that stood in the middle of an oilcloth-covered table
laid for supper. Half a dozen cheap wooden chairs
and a sewing-machine of inferior grade completed its
furnishing. The newcomer had only time for a single
glance at these things as he entered the door, before
his recent acquaintance of the train, who now seemed
almost like an old friend, sprang forward with out-
stretched hand, exclaiming:
"I'm so glad you've come, for I was afraid father
might not find you, or you might get tired of waiting,
or that something might have happened to take you
some other place. I would have gone back 'myself,
only father wouldn't have it that way, and claimed
'twas his place to fetch you."
"Surely, son; and why not ? Could I do less than
give the first welcome to one who has done for us what
Mr. Peril has ? Mother, take a step and shake hands
wi' him who saved our boy to us this day. I couldn't
believe it till I seen him hit 'Blacky' such a blow
as but one other in all Red Jacket has ever struck.
What do you think of one ninety-five for a record ?"
"Oh, father you surely didn't take him- "
But Tom's words were lost in the heartfelt though
somewhat trying greeting that Peveril was at that


moment receiving from Mrs. Trefethen. She was a
large woman, whose ample form was unconfined by
stay or lace, and with whom to "take a step" was
evidently an exertion. That she was also of an
emotional nature was shown by the tears that rolled
in little well-defined channels down her cheeks as
she made an elephantine courtesy before her guest.
"Mister Peril, sir," she said, in a voice that seemed
to bubble up through an overflow of tears, "may you
never experience the feelings of a mother, more
especial the mother of a only son, which 'arrowing
is no name for them. As I were saying to Miss
Penny this very day-a true lady, sir, if there is one
in hall Red Jacket, and wife of No. 2, timber boss,
my Mark being the same in No. 3-Miss Penny, sez I-
but, laws! what's the use of telling sich things to a
mere man? as I [frequent sez to my Mark and my
Tom, which he hain't no more'n a boy when all's said
and done, if he does claim to vote, and always on
the side of 'is father, when, if wimmen had the privilege
-as Miss Penny, who is a geniwine lady, and by no
means a woman-sufferer, has frequent said to me, that
it's a burning shame they shouldn't-things would be
more naturally equalled up. Same time, young sir,
seeing has 'ow you've come-- "


"And is also nearly starved," interrupted Mark
Trefethen. "Let's have supper. You've done yourself
proud, mother, and give Mr. Peril a master-welcome;
but eating before talking, say I, and so let us
fall to."
Faint with hunger as he was, the guest needed no
second invitation to seat himself at the homely but
hospitable table, on which was placed a great dish
of corned beef and cabbage, another of potatoes, a
wheaten loaf, and a pot of tea. Cups, plates, and
saucers were of thickest stone-ware, knives and forks
were of iron, and spoons were of pewter, but Peveril
managed to make successful use of them all, and
though betraying a woeful ignorance of the proper
functions of a knife, ate his first working-man's meal
with all of a working-man's appetite and hearty
Mrs. Trefethen occupied a great rocking-chair at one
end of the table, surrounded by a group of clamorous
little ones, into whose open mouths she dropped bits
of food as though they were so many young birds in
a nest, and kept up an unceasing flow of conversation
regarding her friend Mrs. Penny, to which Peveril
strove to pay polite attention.
From the opposite end her husband expatiated


between mouthfuls upon the fate that had overtaken
"Blacky that evening, but Peveril was too hungry to
talk, and so apparently was Tom. These four were
waited on by a slim, rosy-cheeked lass, with demure
expression but laughing eyes, to whom the guest had
not been introduced, but who, from her likeness to
Tom, he rightly concluded must be his sister. She
was addressed as Nelly."
After supper the three men adjourned to a little
front porch, where Mark Trefethen lighted a pipe and
questioned Peveril concerning his plans for the future.
After listening attentively to all that his guest chose
to tell of himself, he said:
"It's plain, lad, thee's not been brought up to work,
and knows nought of mining; but thee's got head to
learn and muscle to work with. So if 'ee wants job
thee shall have it, or Mark Trefethen '11 know why.
Now I tell'ee what. Bide along of us, and be certain of
welcome. Take to-morrow to look about, and by night
I'll have news for you."
Gratefully accepting this invitation, the Oxford
undergraduate slept that night in a tiny chamber of the
Trefethen cottage, from which he shrewdly suspected
Miss Nelly had been turned out to make room for him.
The next day he went with his new-found friends


to the mine, where, in the "Dry," he saw the under-
ground labourers change into their red-stained working-
suits. Then he watched them clamber, a dozen at a
time, into the great ore-cages and disappear with start-
ling suddenness down the black shaft into unknown
depths of darkness. After all were gone he spent
some time in the "compressor-room" of the engine-
house with Tom, who was there on duty. The re-
mainder of the day he passed in wandering among
shaft-houses, rock-crushers, ore-cars, and shops, making
close observations, asking questions, and gaining a
deal of information concerning the mining of copper.
That evening Mark Trefethen told him that he had
made arrangements by which he could, if he chose,
go to work in the mine the following morning. Job's
wi' timber gang, lad," he said, "in bottom level. It's
hard work and little pay at first-only one twenty-five
the day-but if 'ee's game for it, job's thine."
I am game to try it, at any rate," replied the young
man, gratefully, "and will also try my best to prevent
you from being ashamed of me."
"No fear, lad. Only fear is I'll be proud of thee,
and lat others see it, which would be very bad indeed.
Now, I'll bate 'ee hasn't rag of clothing fit for mine


"I have only what I am wearing," answered Peveril,
who had left his trunks in Hancock, "but I guess
they will do until I can earn the money to buy others
more suitable."
"Do, lad! They'd be ruined for ever in first five
minutes. Besides, thee'd be laughing-stock of whole
mine, if 'ee went down dressed like Jim Dandy. No,
no; come along of me and I'll rig 'ee out proper."
So Peveril was taken to the company store, where,
with Mark Trefethen to vouch for him, he was allowed
to purchase, on credit, two blue-flannel shirts, a suit of
brown canvas, a pair of heavy hobnailed shoes, two
pairs of woollen socks, a hard, round-topped hat, a
dinner-pail, and a miner's lamp. As these things were,
by order of the timber boss, charged to "Dick Peril,"
that was the name under which our young Oxonian
began his new life and became known in the strange
community to which erratic fortune had led him.:
On the following morning he sallied forth from the
Trefethen cottage with a tin dinner-pail on one arm,
his working-suit under the other, and uncomfortably
conscious that he was curiously regarded by every
person whom he met on his way to the mine. As the
"Dry" was already overcrowded, he shared Tom's
locker, and was grateful for the opportunity of


[rage 48.


changing his clothing in the comparative seclusion of
the compressor-room rather than in company with the
two hundred men who thronged the steam-heated
building devoted especially to that purpose.
Having assumed his new garments, and feeling very
awkward in them, Peveril made his way to the shaft-
mouth. There he was joined by Mark Trefethen, who
regarded the change made in his prot6g6's appearance
with approving eyes. Together, and in company with
a stream of men talking in a bewildering Babel of
tongues, they climbed flight after flight of wooden
stairs to the uppermost floor of the tall shaft-house.
An empty cage that had just deposited its load of
copper conglomerate was again ready to descend into
the black depths, and, hurrying Peveril forward, Mark
Trefethen, with half a dozen other miners, entered it.
An iron gate closed behind them and a gong clanged in
the engine-house.
"Hold fast, lad, and remember there's no danger,"
was all that the timber boss had time to say. Then
the bottom seemed to drop out of everything, and
Peveril, experiencing the sickening sensation of having
left his stomach at the top of the shaft, found himself
rushing downward with horrible velocity through utter
blackness. Instinctively reaching out for something


by which to hold on, he clutched a rough-coated arm,
but his grasp was rudely shaken off, and a gruff voice
bade him keep his hands to himself.
He could not frame an answer, for his brain was in
a whirl, his ears were filled with a dull roaring, and a
whistling rush of air caught away his breath. The
motion of the cage was so smooth and noiseless that
after a while he could not tell whether it were going
up or down, though it seemed to be doing both, as
though poised on a gigantic spring. At length faint
glimmers of light began to flash past as it shot by the
mouths of working levels, and finally it stopped with
a jerk that threw its passengers into a confused huddle.
A gate was flung open, and as Peveril stumbled out
of the cage he was only conscious of dancing lights, a
crashing rumble of iron against iron, and a medley of
shouting voices. At the same time all these sounds
seemed far away and unreal.



"SWALLOW, lad !"
Mark Trefethen uttered the words, and Peveril,
dimly comprehending him, instinctively obeyed. The
effect of that simple muscular action was marvellous.
His brain was instantly cleared of its weight, the
ringing in his ears ceased, and his hearing was restored
to its normal keenness. At the same time he was
happily conscious that his stomach had been restored
to its proper position.
"This is plat of bottom level, and we're a mile un-
derground," continued Mark. "They put us down in
one-thirty this time, but often they do it ten seconds
I wonder how much longer it would take to drop
from a balloon one mile above the earth?" reflected
Peveril, at the same time gazing about him with a
lively interest.


The place in which he stood was a spacious room,
hewn from solid rock. Lighted by several lanterns
and little, flaring mine-lamps, it was also smoothly
floored with iron plates, [and from it a narrow-gauge
railway led away into the blackness. Articles of
clothing and dinner-pails were hung about the walls,
and on the side opposite the shaft was a bench of rude
Every few minutes an iron car holding several tons
of copper rock was run into the plat with a tremendous
clatter from the little railway that penetrated to every
"drift" and "stope" of the level. Each of these
cars was pushed by a team of three wild-looking men,
who were stripped naked to the waist. Their haggard
faces and naked bodies were begrimed with powder-
smoke, stained red with ore-dust, and gleamed in the
fitful lamp-light with trickling rivulets of perspira-
tion. The car-pushers were all foreigners-Italians,
Bohemians, Hungarians, or Poles-and the uncouth
jargon of their shouts intensified the wildness of their
appearance. Theirs was the very lowest form of
mine drudgery, and but few of them were possessed
of intelligence or ambition sufficient to raise them
above it.
One, who was accounted somewhat brighter than


his fellows, by whom he was regarded as a leader,
had indeed been promoted on trial by the timber boss
to a position in his own gang. He was a perfect
brute for strength, but so densely ignorant and of such
sullen disposition that when a better man was offered,
in the person of Dick Peveril, the boss was only too
glad to return him to his hated task of car-pushing
and accept the new-comer in his place. His sentence
of degradation, pronounced only the day before, had
been received as a personal affront by every wild-eyed
car-pusher of the mine. All knew that some one
must fill the place from which their leader had been
ousted, and all were prepared to hate him the moment
his identity should be disclosed.
Thus, as Peveril stumbled awkwardly out of the
cage in which he had just made that breathless, mile-
deep descent, he was instantly spotted as being a new
man, and a team of car-pushers, slaking their thirst
at a water-barrel in one corner of the plat, gazed
at him with scowling intentness, that they might
minutely describe his appearance to their fellows. As
he knew nothing of the circumstances through which
a place had been made for him, he paid no attention
to these men, other than to note their savage appearance
as a feature of his novel surroundings.


In fact, he had barely time to take a single com-
prehensive glance around the plat before a man who
had been one of his fellow-passengers in the cage
remarked, sneeringly:
"Pretty well scared, wasn't you, young feller ?"
"Yes, I was," replied Peveril, turning and facing his
questioner. "But how did you know it ?"
"By the way you grabbed my arm. If you'd done
it again I'd have punched your head; for I don't 'low
no man to catch holt on me that way."
Peveril had already recognized the speaker's face;
but, without deigning a further reply, he turned to
Mark Trefethen and said:
"Will you kindly give me the name of this un-
pleasant person, as I wish to file it away in my memory
for future reference ? "
"Person be blowed exclaimed the man, stepping
forward with a menacing gesture. "What do you
mean by calling me names, you damned--"
"Shut up, Mike Connell, and go about your busi-
ness," commanded the timber boss. Come, lad, he's
not worth noticing," and, thus saying, Mark Trefethen
led Peveril away.
Although the car-pushers had not caught the words
of this brief conversation, they had readily understood


Mike Connell's threatening gesture towards the new-
comer, and several times during that day one or more
of them might have been seen in low-voiced consultation
with the scowling-faced Irishman.
"Here, lad, fill lamp wi' sunlight," said the timber
boss, as he and his prot6g6 were leaving the plat.
"First rule of mine is always have lamp in trim,
and carry candle, besides plenty of matches in pocket."
With this Mark scooped up in his hand a small
quantity of a stiff, whitish substance from an open
box beside them, and stuffed it into his lamp. The
box was indeed marked Sunlight," but when Peveril
followed his companion's example he found its contents
to be merely solidified paraffin.
With their lamps well filled and flaring brightly,
the two walked for half a mile through a dry and
well-ventilated gallery, which had been driven by drill
and blast through solid rock, and from which thousands
of tons of copper had been taken. Now Peveril learned
for the first time what timberingg" a mine meant,
and realized the necessity for the huge piles of great
logs that he had seen above ground in close proximity
to the shaft. Not only had it been incased on all four
sides by logs mortised together and laid up like the
walls of a house, but the drift through which he now


walked was timbered from end to end. Its roof was
upheld by huge tree-trunks standing from ten to
twenty feet apart, and occasionally in groups of three
or four together. Supported by them, and pressing
against the roof or "hanging," were other great timbers
known as wall plates," and behind these was a com-
pactly laid sheathing of split timber spoken of as
As the two men advanced deeper into the drift, an
occasional ore-car, pushed by its panting human team,
rumbled heavily past, while every now and then came
dull, tremulous shocks like those of an earthquake.
These were blasts on other levels, or in other parts of
the one on which they were.
At sound of a confused shouting from somewhere
ahead of them, they stood still until, with a crashing
roar that bellowed and echoed through the galleries
like a peal of loudest thunder, one of these blasts
was fired close at hand. A minute later they were
enveloped in a pungent smoke, through which twinkled
dimly a score of lights. Brawny, half-naked forms
were already wielding pick and shovel amid the masses
of rock just loosened, a powerful air-drill was being
placed in position for another attack upon the wall
of tough rock, and a small timber gang was struggling


to hoist a huge log that they called a "stull" into
"Here's the place, lad. Take hold and give a lift.
Now, boys, altogether!" shouted Mark Trefethen; and
in another moment Dick Peveril found himself hard
at work.
Within a few minutes the new hand was as
begrimed and dripping with perspiration as any
member of the gang, all of whom exchanged signifi-
cant glances as they noted the willingness with which
he exerted his great strength. Never had the heavy
timbers been set in place so quickly, and never in
their remembrance had a green hand "caught on" so
"He won't last long, though, at that pace," re-
marked one of the older men to Trefethen, as he
paused to wipe the sweat-drops from his eyes, "he's
too fresh."
"Perhaps not," replied the timber boss. "We'll
give him a bit of a try, though, before dropping him,"
and then he walked away to inspect the operations of
another gang in a distant part of the mine.
Late that day, as Peveril's first shift of work drew
towards its close, he ached in every part of his body,
but was learning his new trade so rapidly that his


fellows were already beginning to regard him as one
of the best men in their gang. He had made several
trips to and from the foot of the timber-shaft in
company with others, and so, when, shortly before
quitting time, the foreman of his gang sang out:
"Oh, Peril! just run back to the stack and bring
us one of them small sprags. Hurry, now! the new
man started without a moment's hesitation.
He found his way without difficulty to the timber
pile, and began a search for such a piece as he had
been told to fetch. The better to see what he was
doing, he removed the lamp from his hat and held it
low in front of him, in which position his own face
was clearly revealed by its light. While he was thus
engaged, a miner, who, with his day's work finished,
was walking towards the plat, paused to regard him.
The man's face bore a malicious expression, and he
seemed to meditate some mischief towards the un-
suspecting youth, for he clinched his fists and took a
step in Peveril's direction. Just then the rumble of
an approaching car caused him to pause and wait
until it should pass. As it came abreast of him he
recognized one of its pushers, and drew him aside,
while the car, still propelled by two members of its
team, moved on out of sight.




Without a word the miner directed his companion's
attention to the figure still bending over the log pile,
and made several significant gestures. The brutish
face of the pusher lighted with an ugly leer, expressive
of understanding, and he began to move cautiously
towards the man who had that day displaced him
from the timber gang. As he had left his light on
the car, there was nothing to warn Peveril of his
approach until he was close at hand and about to
deliver a cowardly blow.
At that instant the mysterious premonition that
always gives warning of human presence caused the
young man to turn his head. Although he was too
late to avoid the impending blow, it was deflected by
his movement, and instead of stunning him, it merely
caused him to stagger and drop his lamp. He also
partially warded off a closely following second blow,
and then his own terrible fist was planted with crashing
orce full on his assailant's jaw.
The man uttered a scream of agony, covered his
face with his hands, and started to run. At this
moment the other two car-pushers appeared on the
scene, and with fierce cries began a furious attack
upon the young man whom they had sworn either to
kill or drive from the mine. At this time the battle-


ground was only dimly illumined by the flickering
light of the miner who was thus far sole spectator of
the contest. Peveril fought in dogged silence, but his
assailants uttered shrill cries in an unknown tongue.
Attracted by these, other lights began to appear from
both directions, and all at once Mark Trefethen's
gruff tones were heard demanding to know what was
going on.
At this sound Peveril uttered a joyful shout, while
at the same moment the light in Mike Connell's hat
was extinguished.
Recognizing his prot6g6's voice, the timber boss
sprang to his side, and within another minute the two
car-pushers would have been annihilated had not the
coming of a second car given them a reinforcement of
three more half-naked savages.
Thus beset and outnumbered by more than two to
one, Trefethen thought it no shame to call for aid,
and, uplifting his mighty voice, he sent rolling and
echoing through the rock-bound galleries the rallying-
cry of the Cornishmen:
"One and all for Cornwall! One and all!"



"ONE and all!" The rallying-cry of the most clan-
nish county in England. The one in which, from
Land's End to Plymouth Sound, every family claims
some degree of cousinship with every other, until, at
home and abroad, "Cousin Richard" is the name
proudly borne by all Cornishmen.
"One and all!" As the startling cry rang through
the black underground depths it was heard and
answered, caught up and repeated, until it penetrated
the remotest corners of the far-reaching level. At
its sound the men of Cornwall, working in stope or
drift, breast or cross-cut, dropped their tools and
sprang to obey its summons. By twos and threes
they ran, shouting the 'magic words that Cornish
tongues have carried around the world. They met
in eager groups, each demanding to know who had


first given the alarm and its cause. As none could
answer, and the shouts still came from far away, they
swept on, in ever-increasing numbers and with growing
anxiety, for the call of Cornwall is never given save
in an emergency.
In the meantime the fight between two and five
raged with unabated fury; the two, with their backs
to a wall, putting up the splendid defence of trained
boxers against the fierce but untaught rush of mere
brutes. Science, however, laboured under the dis-
advantage of fighting in a gloom that was almost
darkness, for Mark Trefethen's lamp had been
extinguished at the outset, and the only one still
burning was on a car standing at a distance from them.
Of a sudden the timber boss heard a groan at his
side, and found himself fighting alone. His comrade
had sunk limply to the ground, and an exultant yell
from the others proclaimed their knowledge that they
had no longer to fear his telling blows. As they were
about to rush in and complete their victory, the battle-
cry of Cornwall, accompanied by the flash of many
lights, came rolling down the gallery.
Help was close at hand. If Mark Trefethen could
hold out for another minute he would be surrounded
by friends. With an answering shout of "One and


all!" he sprang to meet his assailants, and realizing
their danger, they fled before him. At the same
instant the lamp on their car disappeared, and in the
utter darkness that followed Trefethen could only
grope his way back to Peveril's side.
A moment later the flaring lights of the Cornish
miners disclosed the old man, with face battered and
bleeding, standing grimly undaunted beside the motion-
less form of the newest comer to the mine. The latter
lay unconscious, with an ugly wound on the side of
his head, from which blood was flowing freely. It had
been made by a fragment of copper rock, evidently
taken from the loaded car close at hand, and flung
from that direction. Several other similar pieces were
picked up near where the two men had defended
themselves, and, now that Trefethen had time for
reflection, he recalled having heard these crash against
the wall behind him.
Who had flung them was a mystery, as was the
cause of the attack on Peveril. Even the identity of
his assailants seemed likely to remain unrevealed, for
these had slipped away in the darkness, and though
the rescuing party searched the level like a swarm of
angry hornets, they could not discover a man bearing
on his person any signs of the recent fray.


In the gloom shrouding the scene of conflict, Mark
Trefethen had not been able to recognize those with
whom he fought, but only knew them to be foreigners
and car-pushers. It afterwards transpired that a
number of these had, on that evening, made their
way to a shaft a mile distant, and so gained the
surface. One of them was reported to have had his
head tied up as the result of an accident, but no one
had recognized him.
While certain of the Cornishmen searched the mine,
Trefethen and others bore the still unconscious form
of Richard Peveril to the plat, and sounded the alarm
signal of five bells. Nothing so startles a mining
community as to have this signal come from under-
ground. It may mean death and disaster. It surely
means that there are injured men to be brought up
to the surface, and the time elapsing before their
arrival is always filled with deepest anxiety.
It was so in the present case, and when the cage
containing the two battered miners, one of whom had
also every appearance of being dead, emerged from
the shaft, a throng of spectators was waiting to
greet it.
These learned with a great sigh of relief that there
had been no accident, but merely a fight, in which the


men just brought up were supposed to be the only
ones injured. Their revulsion of feeling led many
of the spectators to treat the whole affair as a joke,
especially as the only person seriously hurt was a
"It's always new-comers as stirs up shindies,"
growled a miner who, having reached the surface a few
minutes earlier, formed one of the expectant group.
"They ought not to be let underground, I say."
How about Trefethen ?" asked a voice. He's no
"Oh, Mark's a quarrelsome old cuss, who's always
meddling where he has no call."
"You lie, Mike Connell, and you know it. My
father never fights without good cause," cried Tom
Trefethen, who had arrived just in time to resent the
slurring remark.
"I'll teach you, you young whelp!" shouted the
miner, springing furiously forward; but Tom leaped
aside, leaving the other to be confronted by several
burly Cornishmen, in whose ears was still ringing the
cry of One and all! "
"Lad's right, Maister Connell," said one of these.
"If 'ee don't believe it, come along and get proof."
But the Irishman, muttering something about not


caring to fight all Cornwall, turned abruptly and
walked away.
Tom Trefethen, not yet knowing that Peveril had
been hurt, also hurried away to find his father, who,
having left his young friend in the hands of the mine
surgeon, had gone to change his clothing. At the
same time poor Peveril lay in a small room of the
shaft-house, having the gash in his head sewn up.
Several spectators regarded the operation curiously,
and among them was a gentleman, addressed by the
doctor as Mr. Owen, whom none of the others remem-
bered to have seen before, but who seemed to take a
great interest in the still unconscious sufferer.
"Do you consider it a serious case, doctor?" he asked.
No. Not at all serious. These miners are a tough
lot, and not easily done for, as you'll find out before
you have seen as much of them as I have. This one
will probably be out and at work again in a day or
two. I'm always having such little jobs on my hands,
the results of accident, mostly, though this, I believe,
is a case of fighting, something very uncommon in our
mine, I can assure you. Splendid physique, hasn't he ?
Savage-looking face, though. Hate to trust myself
alone with him. I understand old Mark Trefethen had
a hard tussle before he brought him to terms."


What was the trouble ? "
"I don't know, exactly. Insubordination, I suppose;
but old Mark don't put up with any nonsense."
"Do you know this fellow's name, or anything
about him ?"
"Urn-yes. I have learned something, but not
much. His name is Peril-Richard Peril. Odd name,
isn't it? He's a new-comer, and, like yourself, has
just entered the company's employ. Rather a contrast
in your positions, though. Illustrates the difference
between one brought up and educated as a gentleman,
and one destined from the first for the other thing, eh ?
It is all poppycock to say that education can make a
gentleman; don't you think so ? In the present case,
for instance, I doubt if even Oxford could make a
gentleman of this fellow. His whole expression is a
protest against such a supposition. But now he's
coming to all right, and I'm glad of it, for I have an
engagement at the club, and don't want to spend much
more time with him."
Poor Peveril, whose begrimed and blood-streaked
face was not calculated to prepossess one in his favour,
began just then to have a realizing sense that he was
still alive, and the doctor, bending over him, said:
"There now, my man, you are doing nicely, and by


taking care of yourself you will be about again in a
day or two. You had a close call, though, and it's a
warning to behave yourself in the future; for I can
assure you that one given to fighting or disobedience
of orders is not allowed to linger in these parts. I
must leave you now, but will call again this evening
to see how you are getting along. What is your
address ?"
He lives along of us, sir," answered Tom Trefethen,
who had just entered the room; and if you think it's
safe to move him, we'll take him right home."
"Certainly you can move him; in fact, he could
walk if there was no other way; but it will be as well
to take him in a carriage. Let me see, your name is
Trefethen, is it not ?"
"Yes, sir."
Very well; put your boarder to bed as soon as you
get him home, keep him quiet, give him only cooling
drinks, and I'll call round after a while. Now I must
hurry along."
The stranger, who walked away with the self-
important young doctor, was none other than Peveril's
Oxford classmate-" Dig" Owen-who, having obtained
a position in the Eastern office of the White Pine
Copper Company, had been advised to visit the mine


and learn something of its practical working before
assuming his new duties. He had just arrived when
the rumour of an accident caused him to hurry to
the shaft-mouth. There he was thunderstruck at recog-
nizing in one of the two men brought up from the
depths his recent college-mate and rival. In the
excitement of the moment he had very nearly betrayed
the fact of their acquaintance, but managed to restrain
himself, and was afterwards careful to keep out of
Peveril's sight, foreseeing a great advantage to himself
by so doing.
That same evening he sat in the comfortable writing
room of the club-house-at which poor Peveril had
gazed with envious eyes-and composed a long epistle
to Rose Bonnifay, in which he mentioned that he had
just run across their mutual friend, Dick Peveril, work-
ing as a day-labourer in a copper-mine.

"This [he continued] "is doubtless the mine in which
he claimed to be interested, and under the circumstances one
can hardly blame the poor fellow for putting it in that way.
At the same time, I consider it only fair that you should
know the real facts in the case.
His misfortunes seem also to have affected his disposi-
tion, for on the very day of my arrival he was engaged in
a most disgraceful fight with some of his low associates, by
whom he was severely and justly punished. Of course I


could not afford to recognize him, and so took pains to have
him kept in ignorance of my presence. Is it not sad that a
fellow of such promise should in so short a time have fallen
so low ?
Within a few days I shall return to the East, where my
own prospects are of the brightest," etc.

"There," said Mr. Owen to himself, as he sealed and
addressed this letter. If that don't effectually squelch
Mr. Richard Peveril's aspirations in a certain direction,
then I'm no judge of human nature.



WHEN the mine-surgeon visited his patient that
evening he found only Mrs. Trefethen, sitting on the
porch and awaiting him, "her men-folk," as she in-
formed him, being on the trail of they murderers."
"Which, if they ain't so many Cainses this night,
hit bain't their fault, as I sez to Miss Penny the
moment I sees that pore lamb brought into the housee
just like 'e was struck down the same as a flower of
the field that bloweth where hit listeth; and she sez
to me-for me and Miss Penny was visiting at that
blessed minute, like hit were providential she
"It is certainly very kind of you to take such
an interest in a stranger," ruthlessly interrupted the
doctor; "but may I inquire how my patient is getting
along ?"


"You may indeed, sir, and may the good Lord pre-
serve you from a like harm, which hit make my blood
boil to think of my pore Mark's escape, him being
what you might call owdacious to that degree. He
were telling me has 'ow 'One and hall' was everything
that saved 'im, and they rocks pattering same has
'ail-stones hall the time. Law, sir!"
"Doubtless, madam, the episode must have been
most exciting; but now, if you will allow me to
interview the cause of all this trouble, I shall be much
"Trouble, doctor, dear! Don't mention the word
when hit's 'im 'eld the life of my Tom in 'is two 'ands,
and but for they cruel rocks that battered 'is fore'ead
would ha' throttled them rascal pushers same as
ratten in tarrier's grip; for my man Oldss there was
ne'er a fisticuffer like 'im in hall the Jackets. But,
doctor doctor! Oh, drat the man now 'e'll go hand
wake Maister Peril, which I were a-settin' 'ere a
pu'pos' to tell 'im lad's asleep."
Impatient of longer delay, and despairing of obtain-
ing a direct answer to his questions, the doctor had
indeed slipped into the house and instinctively made
his way up-stairs towards the only room in which a
light was burning. He was met outside the door by


a warning "Sh!" from Nelly Trefethen, who had
been left on guard by her mother, and together they
entered the room where the wounded man lay tossing
in restless slumber.
The doctor started at close sight of him, and for a
moment refused to believe that the handsome, high-
bred face, from which every trace of grime and blood
had been carefully removed, was that of the young
fellow who, he had declared, could never become a
gentleman. Only the evidence of his own handiwork,
in shape of the bandages still swathing Peveril's
head. served to convince him that this was indeed his
patient of the shaft-house.
After a few minutes of observation he left the
room, without awakening the sleeper, and gave his
directions for the night down-stairs. He also ques-
tioned Nelly closely concerning the young man who
had so aroused his curiosity, but she could only tell
him that the stranger's name was "Peril," that he
had come to Red Jacket in search of work, had saved
her brother Tom's life, and had in consequence been
given a job in the mine.
"But he is evidently a gentleman ?" said the
Claims to be working-man," put in Mrs. Trefethen.


He can be both, can't he, mother ?" asked Nelly,
somewhat sharply. "Surely you think father is a
"Not same as him yonder," replied the older
woman, stoutly.
"Well, I don't care what he is or isn't," answered
the girl, with a toss of her pretty head, "he hasn't
shown any sign yet of holding himself above us, and
Tom thinks he is just splendid. If he was here he
wouldn't hear a word said against him, I know that
"Save us, lass! Who's said aught againstt thy
young man ?"
"He's not my young man, mother, and you know
it. Can't a girl stand up for a stranger who saved her
brother's life, and who has just been knocked senseless
while fighting beside her own father, without being
twitted about him ?"
"Certainly she can," replied the doctor, with an
admiring glance at the girl's spirited pose and flushed
face. "But have a care, Miss Nelly. There's nothing
so dangerous to a girl's peace of mind as an interesting
invalid of the opposite sex."
"Thank you, 'for nothing, doctor, and you needn't
fret one little bit about me. We Red Jacket girls


can take care of ourselves without going to any man
for advice."
"Save us, lass, but thee's getting a pert hussy! "
cried Mrs. Trefethen; but the doctor only laughed, and
took his departure, promising to call again the next day.
He had hardly gone before Mark Trefethen returned,
filled with excitement over certain discoveries he had
just made. One was that the car-pushers of the mine
had sworn either to force Peveril from it or to kill
him. He had also learned that Rothsky, the Bohemian,
who had been found wanting when tried in the timber
gang, had led the attack of that evening, and had
received a broken jaw in consequence. The identity
of the two car-pushers who were with him at the time
having also been discovered, the captain of the mine
had promptly discharged all three. Moreover, the
Cornish miners had sworn that if either their own
leader or his protege were again molested while under-
ground they would drive every foreign car-pusher from
the workings.
When Tom came home he confided to his father a
belief that Mike Connell had been at the bottom of
all the recent deviltry, but, as he confessed that he
could not verify his suspicions, Mark Trefethen bade
him keep them to himself.


"We'll not take away any man's character, lad,"
he said, "without proof that he deserves to lose it.
But if ever I know for certain that Mike Connell had
hand in this, lat him have a care o' me. As for yon
Dick Peril, there's no fear but what he can look out
for hissel', now that we can warn him of his enemies."
For two days Peveril kept his bed, assiduously
waited on by Mrs. Trefethen and her daughter, watched
over at night by Tom, and an object of anxious solici-
tude to the entire family. Then he was allowed to
venture down-stairs, while the children were driven
from the house, that they might not disturb him.
Before the week ended he was taking short walks,
escorted by Miss Nelly, who was only too proud to
show off this new cavalier before the other girls of
her acquaintance. Several times as the doctor saw
them thus together he shook his head doubtfully.
During one of these walks Peveril made the joyful
discovery of a public library, and thereafter much of
his convalescence was passed within its walls. There
he read with avidity all that he could fnd concern-
ing the Lake Superior copper region, and mining in
general. Particularly was he interested in everything
pertaining to the prehistoric mining of copper by
a people, presumably Aztecs or their close kin, who


possessed the art, long since lost, of tempering that
All this time he never for a moment forgot the
object of his coming to that country, nor neglected
a possible opportunity for gaining news of the mine
in which he believed himself to be a half-owner.
Thus, in all his reading, as well as in his conversations
with Mark Trefethen and other miners, he always
sought for information concerning the Copper Princess,
but could find none. His books had nothing to say
on the subject, and, while the men knew by report
of many abandoned mining properties, they had not
heard of one bearing the name in question.
Finally, chafing under this enforced idleness, as well
as under the poverty that compelled him to be a pen-
sioner on those who could ill afford to support him,
Peveril announced his complete restoration to health,
and declared his intention of again going to work.
Mark Trefethen tried to persuade him to wait a
while longer before thus testing his strength, but
without avail, and at length, finding the young man
set in his determination, used his influence to procure
for him a temporary situation in which the work
would be much lighter than with the timber gang.
This job was in a shaft then being sunk by the White


Pine Company, and included a certain supervision of
the explosives used in blasting.
The new shaft was already down several hundred
feet, and was being driven through solid rock by
drill and blast, at the rate of twenty feet per week.
Of course there was no regular running of cages up
and down as yet, but the loosened material was
hoisted to the surface in a big iron bucket, or "skip,"
and in this the miners engaged in the work also
travelled back and forth.
The great opening was a rectangle twenty-two by
six and a half feet, and to sink it a series of holes
was drilled around its sides. Then all the men but
one were sent to the surface, while Peveril descended
with a load of dynamite and a fuse. The man left
at the bottom was always an experienced miner, and
it was his duty to charge the holes, place and light
the fuses, which were timed to burn for several
minutes, jump into the skip and give the signal for
hoisting. In all of this work he was of course assisted
by Peveril, and when their task was completed the two
men were lifted to the surface as quickly as possible.
After our young friend had been engaged in this
delicate business some two weeks, and had become
thoroughly familiar with its details, he was disagreeably


surprised one day, upon descending with his freight
of explosives, to find Mike Connell awaiting him
at the bottom of the shaft. The Irishman seemed
equally annoyed at seeing him, but the purpose for
which they were there must be accomplished, and so,
glad as each would have been for a more congenial
companion, they set doggedly to work.
When Connell, in a spirit of bravado, handled the
sticks of dynamite with criminal recklessness, and
finally managed to drop one of them close beside
Peveril, the latter sharply commanded him to be
more careful.
Afraid, are you? sneered the other.
Yes, I am afraid to work with a man who knows
so little of his business as you appear to," answered
Go to the top then, and lave me to finish the job
alone. Lord knows, I don't want no dealings with a
"It makes no difference what you want or do not
want," answered the younger man steadily, though
with a hot flush mounting to his cheeks. "I was
sent here for a certain duty, and intend to stay until
I have performed it."
"And I've a great mind to do what I ought to have


done the first day you struck Red Jacket, and that is
to punch your head."
"You shall have a chance to try it when we get to
the surface."
"Where you think you'll find friends to protect
you. No, by --, I'll do it now "
With this the Irishman sprang forward with clinched
fists, but the other, being on guard, caught him so deft
a blow under the chin that he dropped like a log.
Then, with the full exercise of his strength, the young
Oxonian picked his enemy up and dropped him into
the skip. After doing which he proceeded to complete
arrangements for the blast.
He worked with nervous haste, and did not see that
his enemy had so far recovered as to be watching him
with an expression of deadly hate over the side of the
great iron bucket. But it was so, and, just as Peveril
had lighted the several fuses, Connell gave the signal
to hoist.
The movement of the skip disclosed his devilish
purpose in time for Peveril to spring and catch with
outstretched arms one of its supporting bars. With
a mighty effort he drew himself up, and, in spite of
Connell's furious attempts to prevent him, gained its


At that moment something went wrong with the
hoisting machinery, the upward movement was arrested,
and the bucket hung motionless not more than ten feet
above the deadly mine. In the awfulness of their
common danger, the men forgot their enmity and
gazed at each other with horror-stricken eyes. Then,
with a groan of despair, Mike Connell sank limply
to the bottom of the skip.



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

* I

lPage 86.

': ''~


after a little they expired, one by one, hissing spite-
fully to the last.
SSome of them had already burned so low that he
could not pluck them forth, and was forced to stamp
out their venomous lives with the constant know-
ledge that, should a single spark escape this imperfect
method of extinguishment, he would still be lost. So
fiercely did he labour that in less than one minute
the last visible spark from a score of fuses had glim-
mered out, and he stood in absolute darkness. But he
must wait for a full minute more before he could be
certain that none had escaped him, to creep viciously
down through the loose tamping and still reach the
hidden dynamite. It was a period of the same helpless
anxiety that immediately precedes the hearing of a
sentence that may be either one of death or acquittal.
While it lasted Peveril was bathed in a cold perspira-
tion, his brain reeled, and his limbs trembled until
he was obliged to lean against the side of the shaft
for support.
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 favour,
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 answer-
ing 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 in-
stantly 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
"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

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