s of water descended.
Every now and then the heavy cars would run off the rails, which were of
scantling, worn and frayed by friction. Then my Swede would storm in
Berserker rage, and we would lift till the veins throbbed in my head.
Never had time seemed so long. A convict working in the salt mines of
Siberia did not revolt more against his task than I. The sweat blinded
me; a bright steel pain throbbed in my head; my heart seemed to hammer.
Never so thankful was I as when we had made our last trip, and sick and
dizzy I put on my coat to go home.

It was dark. There was a cable line running from the tunnel to the camp,
and down this we shot in buckets two at a clip. The descent gave me a
creepy sensation, but it saved a ten minutes' climb down the mountain
side, and I was grateful.

Tired, wet and dirty, how I envied the Prodigal lying warm and cosy on
his fragrant hay. He was reading a novel. But the thought that I had
earned a dollar comforted me. After supper he, with Ginger and Dutchy,
played solo till near midnight, while I tossed on my bunk too weary and
sore to sleep.

Next day was a repetition of the first, only worse. I ached as if I had
been beaten. Stiff and sore I dragged myself to the tunnel again. I
lifted, strained, tugged and shoved with a set and tragic face. Five
hours of hell passed. It was noon. I nursed my strength for the after
effort. Angrily I talked to myself, and once more I pulled through.
Weary and slimy with wet mud, I shot down the cable line. Snugly settled
in his bunk, the Prodigal had read another two hundred pages of "Les
Miserables." Yet--I reflected somewhat sadly--I had made two dollars.

On the third day sheer obstinacy forced me to the tunnel. My
self-respect goaded me on. I would not give in. I must hold this job
down, I _must_, I MUST. Then at the noon hour I fainted.

No one saw me, so I gritted my teeth and once more threw my weight
against the cars. Once more night found me waiting to descend in the
bucket. Then as I stood there was a crash and shouts from below. The
cable had snapped. My Swede and another lay among the rocks with sorely
broken bones. Poor beggars! how they must have suffered jolting down
that boulder-strewn trail to the hospital.

Somehow that destroyed my nerve. I blamed myself indeed. I flogged
myself with reproaches, but it was of no avail. I would sooner beg my
bread than face that tunnel once again. The world seemed to be divided
into two parts,