UNDERNEATH THE GROUND
For several days after the adventure with the bear Roger had no opportunity of going to the glade where the spring bubbled up, in order to find, if possible, what object the two engineers had in drilling there. Adrian was obliged to busy himself with various duties about the farm and garden, in order to get ready for the advanced spring planting, and Roger felt that he ought to help his cousin. But, all this time, Roger was busy thinking how he might accomplish his object, and get some of that mysterious substance which Mr. Dudley and Mr. Ranquist examined so eagerly.
He thought of a number of plans, but rejected them all as impracticable. Most of them would have necessitated the bringing in of some one to help him, and this he did not want to do. Even when busiest at his tasks with Adrian, his mind was continually on this one subject, and, after a few days, it seemed it would be impossible for him, with his own unaided efforts, to dig down into the earth and find what was beneath the surface. But Roger was not a boy who gave a thing up because it was difficult.
One night, after a somewhat hard day in the garden, during which the boys had set out a lot of cabbage plants, and hoed the early beans, they were sitting in the parlor, Adrian showing Roger some books. One was a sea story, and there was a picture of a sailor heaving the log, in the old-fashioned way. Roger glanced at the reading matter, which told how, on board ship, the lead was sounded, and how the speed of the ship, as well as the depth of the water through which she was sailing, was ascertained.
The tale went on to relate how sometimes, the sailors used a piece of lead, with a hollow scooped in the lower end, into which space they would place some tallow. Then they would throw the weighted line overboard, and when the lead struck bottom, some of the mud and shells, of which the ocean bed is composed, would adhere to the grease in the hollow, scooped-out place. When the sinker was hauled to the surface and examined, experienced seamen could tell what sort of an anchorage they might find.
Roger started when he read this. He glanced over it again, carefully, and his heart beat suddenly, at the idea which came to him. His cheeks burned red with the happy thought, and he was almost afraid that Adrian would see his excitement, and question him. He made an excuse to go to his room, and busied himself there some time before he blew out his light and went to bed.
"His heart beat suddenly at the idea which came to him"
He dreamed, that night, of climbing down into a deep, dark mine, which sparkled and glittered with the gold and diamonds lining the steep sides.
The next day Roger made a hasty breakfast. To his relief Adrian did not ask him to help with the farm work, nor did the country lad suggest, as he often did, a tramp through the woods; and Roger was very glad, for he had a plan to put in operation.
So, as soon as Adrian had left the house, having to go on an errand to a neighbor's, Roger stepped out of the back door, and made his way slowly to the path that led up through the vineyard, and, so on, to the spring glade. His pocket bulged with a number of objects, and, though he tried not to show it, he was considerably excited. It did not take him long to reach the spot where he had hidden himself from sight the day he watched Mr. Ranquist and Mr. Dudley drill down into the earth. He was almost afraid something might have happened to the place, but a careful look, showed him nothing had been disturbed.
There was the stone, behind which he first took his position, and the log, in the protecting shadow of which he had worked his way to a spot whence he might hear better. There was the second stone, and, after a little searching about he was able to discover the stick that the men had driven into the hole in the ground. He remembered pulling this up, after they had gone, and his disappointment at not finding anything there. Now he was resolved to be more careful in his method.
He looked warily about, to see that he was unobserved, and then he slowly took up the small stake, so as not to disturb the dirt around the edges of the opening. In this he was successful, and, after a few seconds he was able to lift out the stick, and was rewarded by seeing a small circular shaft, about two inches in diameter, extending down into the unfathomable blackness. Now Roger was soon to know whether his plan would succeed.
From his pocket he drew a long, stout fishline, at one end of which was fastened a lead weight, slightly smaller around than the hole, and having a saucer-shaped depression in one end. He made sure that the sinker was tight on the string. From a small bottle he took a little rosin and beeswax, which he had decided to use instead of the tallow that served the sailors. He could get the wax more easily, and he thought that by stiffening it with rosin, it would answer just as well. Now he was all ready to put his scheme into execution.
Lying down flat on his face, he carefully lowered the weight into the hole, keeping a strong hold of the string, so it would not pay out too fast. How anxiously did he watch the slender cord slipping down and down into the depths, the leaden messenger pulling it with a gentle force. Farther and farther it went into the black hole. What would it come to rest on? Would it fulfil its mission, and get to the bottom of the opening? Or would the line be cut by sharp rocks? Once, when it had gone a quarter of the length of the string, the lead caught on some projection. How Roger's heart beat, fearing it would go no farther. He cautiously pulled the weight up a little and let it fall gently. This served to pass it beyond the stone that probably jutted out and stopped the progress momentarily. Then it kept on going down. The boy was straining every nerve in his eagerness to see what was down there, at the bottom of that little hole.
At length, after a few minutes, during which time the line had slid through his fingers, it suddenly slackened. Was this the end of the tiny shaft, or only another catch and temporary stopping on the downward journey? The boy pressed himself closer to the ground. He raised the string and from slackness it became taut with the heft of lead. Then Roger let it fall again, and it seemed to strike solid earth, or something. The cord no longer payed out. Once, twice, three times, he tried this, raising the weight and letting it fall suddenly, so that the wax and rosin in the saucer-shaped end might catch whatever there was at the bottom of the hole, and retain it.
Then Roger began to raise the lead to the surface. He worked slowly, and more cautiously than he had in lowering it, as, if the string caught on a projection now, it would be almost impossible to pull it up without tearing off the weight, and that would mean the failure of the whole plan. It was necessary to be careful, also, in order that whatever was imbedded in the wax might not be shaken off. Hand over hand he drew the cord up, and, with a fiercely beating heart, he saw the sinker come into view. He reached for it with trembling hands. Then, in the glow of the sunlight which streamed down on him, he turned the lead so that he might behold what the wax contained.
"Then Roger began to raise the lead to the surface"
If he expected to see glittering specks of yellow gold, he was sorely disappointed. Nor was there anything he could think represented wealth, not even pieces of some mineral which would account for the great interest Mr. Dudley and Mr. Ranquist showed in their discovery.
With eyes that were a trifle dim from a sense that he had failed, Roger gazed at the waxed end of the weight. Imbedded in the sticky surface the boy saw some white crystals, which glinted and sparkled in the sun. Only some white crystals, that might have been chipped off a light-colored rock. To Roger they meant nothing. Almost idly he brushed them into the palm of his hand and rose to his feet. This, then, was the end of his hopes. The hole in the earth meant nothing, or else had been drilled for some object he could not discover. His golden dream of hidden wealth beneath his uncle's farm, by which the mortgage could be paid, was over now.
He turned away, and was about to throw the white crystals aside, when a sound behind caused him to start. He saw, emerging from the woods, Mr. Ranquist. The engineer appeared much disturbed at the sight of the boy. He stood still a moment, and then came forward rapidly. In his hand he carried a valise, which, as he dropped it on the ground, gave forth a metallic, clanking sound. Mr. Ranquist came close to Roger, who scarcely knew what to do.
"Well," began the man, and his voice was so strange that the boy felt vaguely alarmed, "well—" and he stopped.
"How do you do, Mr. Ranquist?" said the lad, as politely as he knew how.
"Humph! What right—I mean, what are you doing here? Spying on me? If you are, I warn you, boy, you'll be sorry for it. I have been suspicious of you, since the other day when you offered to lead us here. Now," and the engineer spoke sternly, "what do you mean?"
"Why, Mr. Ranquist—I—er—I—"
"No nonsense, now!"
For a moment Roger was somewhat frightened. Then his natural courage came back to him, and he felt a just resentment at the tone and manner of the man.
"Mr. Ranquist," he said. "I have as much right, and more, than you have, on this property. I—"
"What have you in your hand?" interrupted the engineer, looking at the fist which Roger unconsciously had closed over the white crystals. "And what are you doing with that string and weight," as he caught sight of the fishline and sinker. "Answer me!"
Mr. Ranquist darted suddenly at Roger, exclaiming:
"You have been trying to discover the secret of the hole we drilled! Well I'll spoil that game for you, my young friend!"
With a violent spring the engineer was almost upon the boy, but Roger was too quick for him. He leaped to one side, his fist tightly clenched over the crystals, which now seemed of considerable value to him, when he saw what importance Mr. Ranquist attached to the matter. With a cry of astonishment and anger at the threatened attack, but showing no sign of fear, Roger bounded out of the glade and ran through the woods, and down the hill, with Mr. Ranquist crashing through the brush after him. The chase was on.
After the first rush and surprise Roger collected his thoughts, and determined that Mr. Ranquist should not catch him. Or if the man outran him, he resolved he would not give up what he had without a fierce struggle. The excitement of the desperate race urged him on, and he felt he could run a mile or more. He knew he was in a better condition for sprinting than he had been in many months. So when he heard the engineer coming after him, he was almost pleased at the idea of the running contest. He believed he could win.
So he kept on, now stumbling over a low stump or a projecting root, now tripping on a fallen log, or sinking into a soft spot, but never slacking pace. The sounds made by his pursuer came more faintly to him. Presently they died away altogether, and the boy felt he could safely stop. He listened intently, but there came not a noise from the woods behind him. Mr. Ranquist had given up.
"Well," thought Roger, defiantly, "he didn't make me give him these crystals, and he didn't catch me. Now I wonder what I had better do?"
He thought over the situation for a few minutes, while he rested from the chase, and then he decided on a plan.
"I'll bet Mr. Ranquist and Mr. Dudley will do something very soon now," he said to himself. "He thinks I have discovered his secret, and so I have, though I don't know exactly what it is. But as long as he thinks I have found him out, he'll be likely to get possession of Uncle Bert's land. And Uncle Bert will sell it to him because he needs the money so much, and he'll never know there's something valuable hidden under the surface until it is too late. I must hurry to Professor Bailey and see what he says. He ought to be able to tell what these crystals are."
With a heart that beat very hopefully Roger went down the path, and by a roundabout way to the professor's house. He did not want Mr. Kimball to see him. The boy knocked on the door, which was answered by Mrs. Bailey.
"Sorry," she said, in response to Roger's question, "but Professor Bailey is not home. He went away this morning, to be gone several weeks. Can I do anything for you?"
"No," replied Roger, and his heart sank. It would be too late, unless he could soon find out what the white crystals were, for his uncle was not likely to delay in the sale of the land on merely a boy's suspicion. What was he to do? Pondering on this problem, he left the front gate of the professor's house just as a wagon rattled up.