Dave Wilbur was washing the flivver—or, to be entirely accurate, Davewas playing the hose on the car while Tommy Beals and Charlie Rogerswielded sponge and rag in an effort to remove mud and road oil. The jobwas nearly completed when Ned Blake and Dick Somers vaulted the backfence and joined the group.
“Heard the news?” cried Ned and Dick in a breath. “Coleson’s mine hascaved in!”
“When? How?” came the excited chorus.
“It must have happened soon after we were out there,” replied Ned. “Thisfellow Latrobe, who worked for Coleson, had been away for a few days, sohe says, and when he got back yesterday he couldn’t find the old man.According to the story Latrobe told, when he reached town about an hourago, he lowered himself down the shaft and followed the tunnel till hecame to the water. The roof had fallen in somewhere out beyond theshoreline and the lower end of the mine is full of water.”
“Did he find—” began Tommy Beals in an awestruck tone.
Ned shook his head. “No, they say he didn’t find any sign of Coleson.They’re out at the mine searching for him now. The theory is that he gotdiscouraged with pick-and-shovel work and fired a blast to bring down abig bunch of copper ore. What he brought down was the roof of the tunneland the lake with it. Some think he was blown to bits and buried in somecrevice where he’ll never be found.”
For the next few days, gossip of Copper Coleson and his mine was theprincipal topic of conversation in the town of Truesdell. The wildestrumors were in circulation. Somebody stated that Coleson had been seenacross the lake in Canada. Others declared that he was hiding somewhereabout the premises. Still another story was whispered to the effect thatLatrobe knew more of the matter than he had told. He was said to havebought a quantity of blasting powder a short time before, and it washinted that he might have fired the blast for reasons of his own.
A diver made a search of the flooded mine but found no trace of Coleson.The diver reported a considerable amount of loose copper ore at thelower end of the tunnel, and it was determined to bring this to thesurface. A floating dredge was brought and anchored above the pointwhere the bottom of the lake had caved in.
“Look at her scoop it up!” yelped Tommy Beals, who, with most of theyounger population of Truesdell, was watching operations from the shore.“Why, every bucketful is more than poor, old Copper Coleson took out ina week!”
“Yes, and when they clean up in one place, they’ll pull the dredge inshore a few feet and start over again,” asserted Ned. “All they have todo is keep the dredge in line with that tall stake on the beach and thatwhite mark on the chimney of Coleson’s house and they know they’re rightplumb over the hole. I heard the foreman explain it. He says the hole isabout fifty feet long.”
“Look! The diver’s going down again!” exclaimed Dick Somers.
“That’s not the regular diver,” declared Rogers, “that’s Latrobe. Hesays that he and Coleson were partners and he claims a share of this orethey’re taking out. I guess that’s why he’s keeping such a close watchon the job.”
“Well, I’ll say I admire Latrobe’s nerve,” remarked Beals. “I wouldn’tgo down and explore that tunnel for a million times what he or anybodyelse will ever get out of it!”
A murmur of agreement followed this declaration as the boys watchedwhile the diving helmet was fitted over the man’s head. In a moment hehad been lowered from the forward end of the dredge and he sank fromview amid a burst of silvery bubbles that shot upward from the air valvein the top of the helmet.
For several days the work of dredging went on, until the diver reportedthat there was no more copper ore remaining in the caved-in part of thetunnel. This was confirmed by Latrobe, who made a final examination forhis own satisfaction. There was some talk of firing another blast tobring down more of the tunnel’s roof, but as fully half the stuffrecovered by the dredge had proved upon examination to be worthless sandand rock, the project was abandoned.
“Who’s going to own the Coleson place now?” asked Dick when it wasreported that the dredge had been taken back to Cleveland.
“The town will take the house and sell it for taxes—if anybody isfoolish enough to buy it,” announced Dave Wilbur. “They’ve locked it upand put shutters over every window to keep folks out.”
“Yes, and they took the windlass away and sealed up the mouth of theshaft with big stone slabs set in cement to keep people from fallingdown the hole and breaking their necks,” added Ned. “I guess that’sabout the finish of both Copper Coleson and his mine.”
This seemed to be the general verdict. During the following weeks a fewpeople drove out to the deserted house, drawn to the spot by a morbidcuriosity; but as there was really nothing to be seen, these visits soonceased and the place was abandoned to desolation and decay. Summerpassed and autumn’s falling leaves collected upon the broad porch andbanked themselves at the angles of the wide cornices. Later came theeddying snow, sifting through crevices in the rattling window-shuttersto melt and trickle down the inner walls in little streams of stainingmoisture. Storm-driven owls sought temporary shelter in the gables andsent their ghostly screams echoing through the night. Dubious rumorsbegan to circulate regarding the house. A negro, returning after darkfrom a duck-hunting foray along the lake-shore, made a frightened reportof strange, dancing lights and uncanny sounds in and about the building.Most people scoffed at these stories, but such as were more credulous ormore imaginative made them the basis for a revival of gossip to theeffect that old Copper Coleson still lurked in the neighborhood. Othersof superstitious mind derived a kind of blood-curdling satisfaction inthe belief that the house and the sealed-up mine were haunted by theghost of Copper Coleson.