Connecting the two levels curved the inclined track, down which shot cars, filled with ore destined for the smelter, to be carried back empty, or filled with supplies, shifts of laborers, or any one else who wanted to go up to the mine. For this was the only way of reaching the mouth of the shaft.
At five minutes before nine the _Wizard_, with Dick Merriwell at the wheel, whirled through the open gates which marked the entrance to the property of the Mispah Mining Company, and drew up before the handsome office building.
The four Yale men alighted and walked into the main office, where Dick sent his card in to the mine owner. The office boy returned with a message that Mr. Fairchilds would be out in a few moments, so they made themselves comfortable on a heavy oak bench that stood near the door.
In less than ten minutes Dick’s friend of the night before appeared from his private office, and advanced with outstretched hand.
“Well, well, my boy, how are you this morning?” he said briskly. “I hope you’re ready for a good sweat. It’s pretty warm down on the lower level.”
“Bless my soul!” he exclaimed. “The Yale catcher, or I’ll eat my hat! I don’t know your name, but I never forget a face.”
“Buckhart,” Dick put in, as the Texan shook the older man’s hand. “Bradley Buckhart from Texas.”
“Glad to meet you--very glad,” the mine owner said in his sharp, incisive manner. “Have you brought any more of your team with you, Merriwell? I foresee that my boys will have to stir themselves to lick you this afternoon.”
“Tommy Tucker, here, sometimes plays short,” he explained. “He’s going to hold down centre field to-day.”
There was a whimsical look of mock consternation on Orren Fairchilds’ face as he shook hands with Tucker and Bigelow.
“I wish you’d brought the other six along,” he said. “There’d be some honor in beating the Yale varsity.”
Without waiting for a reply, he ushered them into an adjoining room, which was fitted up with a number of lockers, and opening one of them he began to toss out a variety of garments.
“We’ll have to change here,” he explained. “There’d be very little left of your regular clothes if you went down in them.”
In the course of five minutes all five were arrayed in rough woolen trousers, flannel shirt, heavy shoes, and felt hats. The transformation was astonishing. But for the healthy tan on their faces, they might easily have been taken for a party of laborers, ready for their daily descent into the mine.