_ CHAPTER XVI. MR. POST'S ADVENTURE
For an instant Jack Ranger and his two comrades did not realize what Mr. Post was saying. They could see no danger near them.
"What's the matter?" asked Nat.
"Don't stop to ask questions! Run! Run! Run!" yelled the miner.
The boys needed no further urging, but set off at top speed after Mr. Post. He halted his run to allow the boys to catch up to him. Then, as he gave a glance backward, he yelled:
"Too late! Duck!"
The boys found themselves being pushed forward. They stumbled and fell, and it seemed as if some heavy weight toppled on top of them. Then came an explosion that sounded like a thirteen-inch gun being set off close to their ears.
They were stunned by the shock and frightened half out of their wits by the unknown terror. An instant later it was as if the sky was raining gravel, stones and sand.
"You can get up now," Jack heard Mr. Post saying. "That was about as narrow a squeak as I ever had, and I've been in some pretty tight places."
"What's it all about?" asked John Smith, as he rose and began brushing the dirt from his hair.
"That's what I want to know," put in Jack.
"Snooping sand fleas! But I feel as if I had been digging a tunnel!" cried Nat.
"Mighty lucky you didn't get blown down into one, or an oil hole," said Mr. Post.
"Anybody hurt?" asked Mr. Baker, running up at that moment. "My! I thought you'd all be killed!"
"More good luck than good management that we weren't," replied the miner. "How could you do it, Jim?"
"First time I ever was so careless," replied the well-shooter. "You can bet it'll never happen again."
"What was it?" asked Nat.
"Just an explosion of about twenty pounds of nitro-glycerine about as close to us as I ever care to have it," said Mr. Post.
"Yes, and if it hadn't been for Josh, I don't know where you boys would be now," put in Mr. Baker. "He saved your lives, all right. That's what he did."
"It wasn't anything," the miner interposed. "You see." he went on, "Jim sort of got careless and left one of his cans of nitro-glycerine lying on the ground. I didn't notice it, and I guess he didn't either, until he shot the well. Then, when I saw the shower of rock and stones, shooting up with the oil, and bearing right over toward where the can of juice lay, I figured out there was going to be trouble. That's why I yelled to you to run.
"I knew if any stones fell and hit that can we had a first-class passage to kingdom come all bought and paid for, with through tickets. I could see a lot of stones hurling up in the air, and I knew, there wasn't anything to stop them from coming down. And the majority of them were headed right for that can of death and destruction."
"That's all right, as far as it goes," said Mr. Baker, when the miner had ceased. "But he hasn't told you all. When Josh saw there was going to be an eruption, then and there, for one big stone was almost on top of the can, he just shoved you boys ahead of him, and then fell on you to shield you with his body. That's what I call being a hero."
"Hi! You drop that!" exclaimed Mr. Post, making a grab for his old friend. "I didn't do any more than any one would have done. It was all your fault, anyhow, Jim Baker."
"I know it was," admitted Mr. Baker, in contrite tones. "But that don't alter what I said, Josh."
"Well if I ever hear you making any remarks about it, I'll inform the oil well authorities how careless you're getting and you'll lose your job," put in the miner. "Now I reckon you boys have seen enough for one day."
"Well, I guess we have," said Jack. "Besides our train will leave pretty soon."
By this time quite a number of oil workers had gathered around. There was considerable excitement, as it had been rumored a number were killed. As soon as matters quieted down men began attending to the oil well, which was spouting away at a lively rate, the thick oil running in many directions.
The hole was piped, and then the stream of crude petroleum was turned into a channel whence it flowed into a reservoir. It had been a successful shooting.
As they walked back to the wagon, having brushed the dirt from their clothes, the boys saw a big hole in the ground, not far from where Mr. Post had protected them from injury by sending them on the run out of danger.
"What did that come from?" asked Nat.
"Nitro-glycerine," replied Mr. Baker. "The juice is powerful stuff."
The boys agreed with him.
"Call in and see me any time you're in this direction," said the well-shooter, as he shook hands at parting with Mr. Post and the boys.
"I will," replied the miner, "when you've gone into the grocery business or taken an agency for a life insurance company. Otherwise it's too risky."
When the travelers got back to the station they found the engineer putting the finishing touches to the repairs he and the fireman had been making. The train was about to start.
"Where have you been?" asked the conductor as the boys and the miner got aboard.
"We've been having a race with death and it nearly won," replied Mr. Post, more solemnly than he had yet spoken.
"What's the matter with him? Is he one of those religious fanatics?" asked the conductor, as the miner hurried into the car.
"Not much," answered Jack. "We had as narrow a call as I ever want to experience." While the train was getting under way he told the ticket-taker what had happened.
The next stop of importance which was reached early the next morning was at Cleveland, and there the boys learned they would have to wait seven hours for another train, as there had been some change in the schedules.
"Couldn't be better," said Mr. Post, when he heard about it. "I've always wanted to see a big body of water and here's my chance. What do you boys say to a trip out on Lake Erie? The trolleys go there, I heard a brakeman say."
The three chums, who had learned to like their new acquaintance more and more, thought it would be a fine trip to pass away the time. Accordingly after dinner, they boarded an electric car which took them in the direction of the lake.
"Shall we go inside or ride on the platform?" asked the miner, as he paid the fares.
"Let's stay outside," suggested Nat. "Tumbling trolley cars! But this is quite a town. Let's see all we can."
So the four remained on the rear platform. It was not crowded, but, in a little while a number of men got on. The boys and Mr. Post were obliged to move back into the corner. Still they could see well from there.
One of the men who was standing close to the miner was smoking a large cigar. He seemed particular of the ashes, and appeared to be trying for a record in the matter of the length of them. They extended from the burned part of the rolled tobacco more than an inch, and at every lurch of the car, the smoker was quite solicitous lest they be knocked off.
At length the man standing in front of him jostled against him, as the car gave a sudden jerk. The ashes flew in a shower over Mr. Post, who was standing directly behind the smoker.
"What's the matter with you? Don't you know how to ride on a car?" demanded the man with the cigar, of the one who had jostled him.
"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said the other humbly. "It was not intentional, I assure you."
"You're a clumsy fellow," the other went on, in a loud voice. "Look here; you've made me knock ashes all over this gentleman," and he turned to Mr. Post.
"That's all right," the miner said pleasantly, for he felt sorry for the other man. "He couldn't help it."
"He ought to be made to help it," the smoker went on, as if very indignant. "People who don't know how to ride on cars ought to keep off. I shall write a letter to the papers about it. Allow me to dust the ashes off your vest."
The man drew from his pocket a large white handkerchief, with which he began wiping the cigar ashes from Mr. Post's clothing.
"Awfully careless of me, too," he murmured. "Hope you take no offense."
"Not at all," the miner was saying. "It was all an accident, I'm sure. You--"
Then, the miner's tone, which had been mild, suddenly changed. He made a grab for the hand of the young man who was dusting his vest off, and cried:
"No, you don't, you scoundrel! Now I see what your game is! Let go my diamond pin or I'll shoot you!" and he made a motion toward his pocket, while the other passengers on the platform made hasty movements to get off. _