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27 A HEAVY TRUCK rolled by the bunkhouse slowly. The sound reached my ears but just stirred hazily in my mind. It seemed Ryan and I and Fogg and a couple of good old boys were somewhere struggling in mud and rain. Water fell in sheets and the night was going to run on all night and all day and it was away past midnight and morning was cancelled for the day but the job ofloading three great blocks of stone had to be finished. And the last block gave us hell; it had to be lifted high and swung over on top of the other two. Then we were jouncing and shaking along with the driver as far as the good road, up a steep trail treacherous with mud, wheels threatening to bog down in the gumbo-like slime. We'd never make it we'd never make it we'd never ... and the truck motor outside my window shut off and I opened my eyes. Outside my window a late sun was shining in on me. It fell on the floor and some of it splashed up on my cot. "So it really all happened," I thought. We were really through with the big footprints. I wondered ifBrown would have such trouble getting them unloaded and aboard a freight. I hoped not; good old Barnum was getting along for that sort of stuff. After breakfast, Jack Ryan and I found Bill Fogg standing in the boiler room door. This lean old boy was tougher than nails. "You two softies look like you could stand a day off," he said. "Tomorrow we'll repair the track on the tipple we tore up getting the blocks across. Probably take us most of the morning." "About the picture room ... " I said. I asked about timbers for the job. "Well, there's what we need lying around the stockpile on the mountain. It'll take about eight. And I've got a plan. I think we can take 'em into the mine through the old escapeway." "The old escapeway?" 133 "Yeah. That's a tunnel that used to run from inside the old workings to the outside ofthe mountain . If we can use that, it'll save us a heap of time and trouble." The tipple repair was accomplished next morning , and after lunch the party was ready for the mine again. We all piled into the Ford truck, and Ryan drove us up on Red Mountain. Someone had brought along a crosscut saw, and Fogg had an axe. We came to Fogg's pile of timbers in an open place among the trees. We selected eight stout props and continued over the east shoulder of the mountain, following a dim trail. Far below us, we knew, were the old mine workings. The trail carried us through a thick stand of pinon pine and cedar to a steep slope above the great brown cliff of the Rollins sandstone. Fogg raised a hand for Ryan to stop. "The old escapeway is just under us," he said. "We can slide the timbers down to it from here. But first we'd better have a look. It's been a long time." We followed him along a neglected path to an opening in the forest, where the bare ground fell away into a wide but shallow depression. "Tunnel's probably pretty well caved in," Fogg grumbled with his usual pessimism. We climbed and slid down into the depression. It was wide open and funnel-shaped, with a black hole in the center. The hole pitched down sharply into the sandy mountainside. We lit our lamps and lanterns and went on down, slipping and sliding, into cool darkness. Presently the passage leveled and we entered a small chamber, apparently on a plane just above the Rollins sandstone. Our stratigraphic position in the mountain must now be about the same as that of the mine; by following the slight downward dip of the beds, we should be able to walk directly into the old workings. But our progress was barred here by a fall of sand. Fogg shot the thin beam of his carbide light above the fall. The light pierced a low passage about the size of a gopher hole. Roots and rootlets of trees and plants drooped down into the narrow passage. Pendulous masses ofdirty cobwebs draped the roots. "Looks like here's where we start to crawl," Fogg announced. He started in. I followed...

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