United States or Saudi Arabia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"That's the old shaft of the 'Coreopsis," Dayton remarked. "So it is," said Jones. "Harry de Luce went down on the rope the other day." "How do you do it?" asked Mr. Fetherbee, much interested. "Hand over hand, I suppose; or else you just let her slide. De Luce went down like a monkey." "He must have come up like a monkey! I don't see how he did it!"
Into one mine they descended, two passengers at a time, standing on the edge of a huge ore-bucket, which was gently lowered down the shaft. It was a treat to see the gnomelike figure of Mr. Fetherbee poking about among the rocky ribs of Mother Earth, closely attended by the flickering lights and weird shadows cast by the tallow-dip with which he had prudently provided himself early in the day.
Fetherbee, in the first flush of victory, remarked: "Well, sir! That is a pie, and no mistake!" Upon which the host, charmed with this spontaneous tribute, hastened to set before his guest another slice. And then it was that Mr. Fetherbee, but now so unflinching, so imperturbable, laid down his weapons and struck his colors.
Fetherbee was "doing" Lame Gulch, doing it from the tourist's standpoint, delighting in every distinctive feature of the rough-and-ready, sordid, picturesque, "rustling" young mining-camp. He was a popular little man, and he had been received with open arms, so to speak, by the Springtown contingent, when he had put in an appearance the day before at the Mountain Lion.
Fetherbee seized the lightly swinging rope with both hands, twisted one leg about it and slid gaily from sight. "Bon voyage!" called Dayton, down the inky shaft. "Yage!" came a hollow voice from the reverberating depths. They felt of the rope which was taut and firm. "He's all right," said Dayton.
Over the brow of the mountain they went, and down on the other side. For some fifteen minutes they rumbled along so smoothly that the insatiate Mr. Fetherbee experienced a gnawing sense of disappointment and feared that the fun was really over.
Fetherbee, shrewdly suspecting the true state of the case, had unflinchingly devoured everything that was set before him, topping off his gastronomic martyrdom with a section of apricot pie, of a peculiar consistency and a really poignant flavor. Just as he had swallowed the last mouthful, the proprietor of "The Jolly Delvers" came up, and Mr.
He mounted into the wagon, and the horses started on the home-stretch, not more joyful in the near prospect of their well-earned orgie of oats and hay than Mr. Fetherbee in the feast of narration which was spread for him. Finding it impossible to contain himself another moment, he cried, with an exultant ring in his voice: "But I say, you fellows! I've had an adventure!"
An hour later, when the wagon drove up to the mouth of the tunnel, Mr. Fetherbee was found standing serenely there, with a half finished cigar between his lips, gazing abstractedly at the landscape. "Hullo, Fetherbee!" Dayton sung out, as they approached. "How was it?"
Yet the atmosphere was electric with possibilities, and the stage was well peopled with "characters," not one of which escaped the watchful eye of Mr. Fetherbee.
Word Of The Day