nd th'
black imps out of danger, whin--whist--they was gone whin I got
back--fifteen of 'em this time!"

"Do you mean that fifteen more of our men have vanished as the first
ten did?" asked Job Titus.

"That's what I mean," asserted the Irishman.

"It can't be!" declared Walter.

"Look for yersilf!" returned Tim. "They're not in th' tunnel!"

"And they didn't come out?"

"Ask th' time-keeper," and Tim motioned to a young Englishman who,
since the other disappearance, had been stationed at the mouth of the
tunnel to keep a record of who went in and came out.

"No, sir! Nobody kime hout, sir!" the Englishman declared. "Hi 'aven't
been away frim 'ere, sir, not since hi wint on duty, sir. An' no one
kime out, no, sir!"

"We've got to stop this!" declared Job Titus.

"I should say so!" agreed his brother.

With Tom and Tim the Titus brothers went into the tunnel. It was
deserted, and not a trace of the men could be found. Their tools were
where they had been dropped, but of the men not a sign.

"There must be some secret way out," declared Tom.

"Then we'll find it," asserted the brothers.

Work on the tunnel was stopped for a day, and, keeping out all natives,
the contractors, with Tom and such white men as they had in their
employ, went over every foot of roof, sides and floor in the big shaft.
But not a crack or fissure, large enough to permit the passage of a
child, much less a man, could be found.

"Well, I give up!" cried Walter Titus in despair. "There must be
witchcraft at work here!"

"Nonsense!" exclaimed his brother. "It's more likely the craft of
Blakeson & Grinder, with Waddington helping them."

"Well, if a human agency made these twenty-five men disappear, prove
it!" insisted Walter.

His brother did not know what to say.

"Well, go on with the work," was Job's final conclusion. "We'll have
one of the white men constantly in the tunnel after this whenever a
gang is working. We won't leave the natives alone even long enough to
go to get a fuse. They'll be under constant supervision."

The tunnel was opened for work, but there were no workers. The morning
after the investigation, when the starting whistle blew there was no
line of Indians ready to file into the big, black hole. The huts where
they slept were deserted. A strange silence brooded over the tunnel
camp.

"Where are the men, Serato?" asked Tom of the Indian foreman.

"Men um gone. No work any more. What you call a hit.