"No, dere ain't room--an' if you touch dat roof hard--" he shuddered.

Bud sucked in his breath. "If you weren't the sandy little man to try it!" he said. He stood a moment in silence going over it all.

"Ches," he said, "there ain't any time to lose. If Jim's cut like that he may bleed to death in there when we could save him all right if we had him outside.

"There's a party of miners down the road eight mile. They was having their grub as I went by. Chances are they'll be there yet. They've got four men and a team. I _could_ ride back, but I ought to be here working.

Do you think you could stick on old Buck and ride there?"

"I kin."

"By G.o.d! I hate to do it--but there ain't any other way!" The big man ground his teeth together. "I hate to do it--d.a.m.ned if I'll do it!"

Ches caught his hand. "I kin make it, Bud," he pleaded; "I cuddent do nothin' if I stayed here, an' you could do a heap. Put me up and let me try."

"All right," said Bud. "The good Lord kept you from getting hurt in the tunnel, perhaps He'll see you through again. Shut your eyes and hold on tight when you strike the high places, and don't touch a rein--leave it all to old Buck."

He stepped forward and caught the horse by the bit.

"Buck!" he said, as though talking to a human being, "you and me have been through a heap together--don't fall down on me, now!--Take the kid safe, old boy!" He caught Ches up and threw him across the saddle.

"You'll only have to tell 'em what's happened--the Lord send nothing happens to you! Good-by, you brave little devil--we'll win out yet. Go it, Buck!"

And while one of Jim's friends plied pick and shovel like a mad man, the other was swaying on top of a galloping horse, gripping the pommel of the saddle with all the strength he had, and shutting his eyes when he came to the high places.

Captain Hanrahan's party were miners of substance. They were working their way out to a new country to suit their inclinations. It had just been suggested that it was perhaps time to hit the trail again when the captain saw a figure on a horse flying athwart the mountain side--the regular road was bad enough, but Bud had short cuts of his own, and Buck followed his usual way.

"Huh!" said the captain, "that man's drunk or crazy?"

"Holy sufferin'!" gasped the man next him, as the yellow horse slipped on a turn and sent a shower of gravel a thousand feet below. "That was a near touch," as the horse caught himself and swept on.

"Looks to me like a case of trouble, Cap," said a third speaker. "That ain't no man, anyhow--it's only a boy."

"Horse running away with him, probably--his folks ought to be clubbed for letting him out on such an animal. Well, spread out, boys, and we'll catch him."

But Buck stopped in two jumps, at Ches' command of "Whoa!"

"Fren's!" cried the boy, "me pardner's caught in a tunnel dat caved in on him. Kin yer help us out? Three mile above Jones's Hill."

He had not finished the sentence before two men sprang for the horses.

The rest grabbed picks and shovels and hurled them into the wagon.

"We'll be there, h.e.l.l-a-whooping," said Captain Hanrahan.

"T'anks!" replied Ches weakly, and then the world went out. The captain caught him as he fell.

"Poor little cuss! He rid hard to help his pardner!" said the captain.

"Hump yourselves, boys--all ready! Got the whisky, Pete? Picks enough?

Stick the axes where they won't jump loose and cut a leg off some of us.

Tie the horse behind--good animal, that. All right, let 'em go!"

They went. Over stones and gulleys, the tools clanging and banging fit to leap from the wagon, the men clinging to the side-boards for dear life.

Down hill-sides like the slant of a roof, the horses keeping out of the way of the wagon; up the other side with the reeking animals straining every fiber; over bridges that bent fearfully beneath the shock of their onset; swaying around curves with the wheels sluing and sparks flying, and over the level as though the devil himself were behind them.

It was the record trip for eight miles in a wagon in that country. The driver stood up, a foot braced on either side, the reins thrown loose, the whip plied hard, and every urging that voice could give shrieked out by his powerful lungs.

It was like the rush of a fire-engine, plus twice the speed, and twenty times the danger. Above the pounding of hoofs, the din of rattling metal, the crash, smash and roar of the wheels and the yells of the driver could be heard the man Pete, ex-cowpuncher, cheerfully singing,

"Roll your tails, and roll 'em high, We'll all be angels by-and-by."

Braced in the back corner sat Captain Hanrahan, his leg keeping some of the tools from going overboard, holding Ches in his arms.

"Curse it all, Billy!" he screamed to the driver, "miss _some_ of them b.u.mps, will you? I've got on a new pair of pants."

"I'll take 'em clean off you the next time, Cap!" retorted the driver.

They joked, which may seem heartless; but they risked their necks a hundred times, and that isn't very heartless.

"That's the place, I reckon, Cap!" said the driver, pointing. "Somebody working there now!"

"Give 'em a hoot!" replied the captain.

Bud stepped out and held up his hand in answer to the yell. The wave of thanksgiving at the sight of this most efficient help took all the stiffness out of the knees of the mail-rider. The tears rolled down his face unnoticed.

"You're welcome, boys," he cried, as the driver sawed the frenzied team to a standstill and the men sprang out.

"Reckon we are," said the captain. "Now what's up?"

"Is the boy hurt? Good G.o.d! He ain't hurt himself, has he?"

"Naw; pore little cuss is used up, that's all. He'll be around all right in a minute. Now tell me, what's loose."

Bud answered briefly, but completely.

"Pete and Billy, get to cutting wood--the rest of you come here,"

commanded the captain.

"You ain't going to stop to timber, are you?" asked Bud in an agony of haste.

"I sure am," replied the captain. "All this trouble's come of carelessness. Now you just keep your clothes on, and let me run this thing.

"We'll have your friend out in no time, and there won't be no more men stuck in there with a hill a-top of 'em in the doing of it. What you've done there is a help all right, but it might easy have meant that we'd had two men instead of one to hunt for."

"You're dead right," said Bud. "Tell me what I'm to do."

The captain took hold as only a man can who has the genius for it. He knew by long practice what size of a relief tunnel meant real speed of progress--the least dirt to be removed to make it possible that men could work to advantage. And his tunnel, safely rough-ceiled, went in at the rate of a foot a minute.

When at last they pulled the insensible man out into the light of day, and found that while his wound, though severe, and if neglected mortal, was not likely to be dangerous with good attention, the captain said that he must be getting about his business.

"Oh, stay a little longer, fellers, till he comes to," remonstrated Bud.