lan occurred to him. It was to set forth on foot to meet his
men, failing to do which he could at least spy out the enemy's
strength. "I can discover, too, what lies behind that ridge, and where
they are carrying those logs," he said, half aloud.

[Illustration: THE MEN HASTILY THREW PEVERIL HEAD-FIRST INTO THE
BUSHES]

So impatient was he to put this plan into execution that he would not
wait to finish his lunch, but, swallowing a mug of coffee and stuffing
a few hard biscuit into the ample pockets of his now nearly dry coat,
he set forth. Coming across a well-trodden though narrow trail,
leading in what he believed to be the right direction, he turned into
it, and followed it briskly for several miles.

It was by this time late afternoon, and long shadows were creeping
over the rugged upland country that he traversed. No house was to be
seen, nor evidence of human occupation. All the large timber having
been long since cut off, the region was now covered with a ragged
second growth and thick underbrush. Extensive tracts had been burned
over, and thousands of small trees, standing in the melancholy
attitudes of death, added to the desolation of the scene. Every now
and then he passed yawning prospect-holes, offering mute evidence of
disappointed hopes.

At length he caught a whiff of smoke, a dull clang of machinery came
to his ears; and, with curiosity keenly aroused, he pursued his way
more cautiously. A few minutes later he reached a point where he
caught glimpses of buildings, evidently belonging to a mine. A tall
shaft-house was surrounded by various shops and a cluster of
dwellings, most of them very humble in appearance, though one was
large and pretentious.

Although smoke was curling lazily from a lofty stack, that he imagined
belonged to an engine-house, and though there was a certain amount of
noise, as of machinery in motion, there were no other signs of
activity about the place. In fact, it was pervaded by an aspect of
desolation and desertion. There were no hurrying men nor teams. Most
of the buildings appeared to be permanently closed; doors were boarded
up, windows were broken, and the smaller dwellings were almost hidden
by the rank growth of weeds and bushes that closely surrounded them.

As Peveril stared in perplexity at this melancholy picture his
attention was attracted by a sound of voices near at hand. He gazed
eagerly, and even took a few steps forward, hoping to meet his own
party, but