they sat down to eat.

Iris had long recovered her usual state of high spirits.

"Why were you burrowing in the cavern again?" she inquired. "Are you in
a hurry to get rich?"

"I was following an air-shaft, not a lode," he replied. "I am
occasionally troubled with after wit, and this is an instance. Do you
remember how the flame of the lamp flickered whilst we were opening up
our mine?"

"Yes."

"I was so absorbed in contemplating our prospective wealth that I
failed to pay heed to the true significance of that incident. It meant
the existence of an upward current of air. Now, where the current goes
there must be a passage, and whilst I was busy this afternoon among the
trees over there,"--he pointed towards the Valley of Death--"it came to
me like an inspiration that possibly a few hours' hewing and delving
might open a shaft to the ledge. I have been well rewarded for the
effort. The stuff in the vault is so eaten away by water that it is no
more solid than hard mud for the most part. Already I have scooped out
a chimney twelve feet high."

"What good can that be?"

"At present we have only a front door--up the face of the rock. When my
work is completed, before tomorrow night I hope, we shall have a back
door also. Of course I may encounter unforeseen obstacles as I advance.
A twist in the fault would be nearly fatal, but I am praying that it
may continue straight to the ledge."

"I still don't see the great advantage to us."

"The advantages are many, believe me. The more points of attack
presented by the enemy the more effective will be our resistance. I
doubt if they would ever be able to rush the cave were we to hold it,
whereas I can go up and down our back staircase whenever I choose. If
you don't mind being left in the dark I will resume work now, by the
light of your lamp."

But Iris protested against this arrangement. She felt lonely. The long
hours of silence had been distasteful to her. She wanted to talk.

"I agree," said Jenks, "provided you do not pin me down to something I
told you a month ago."

"I promise. You can tell me as much or as little as you think fit. The
subject for discussion is your court-martial."

He could not see the tender light in her eyes, but the quiet sympathy
of her voice restrained the protest prompt on his lips. Yet he blurted
out, after a slight pause--

"That is a very unsavory subject."

"Is it? I do not think so. I am a friend, Mr. Jenks, not an old one