peered ahead.

"It ain't as bad as it looks," came after a moment's survey. "It's
only right 'ere at the beginning that it's caved. But that does n't do
us much good."

"Why not?" Fairchild was staring with him, on toward the darkness of
the farther recesses. "If it is n't caved in farther back, we ought to
be able to repair this spot."

But Harry shook his head.

"We did n't go into the vein 'ere," he explained. "We figured we 'ad
to 'ave a shaft anyway, sooner or later. You can't do under'and
stoping in a mine--go down on a vein, you know. You 've always got to
go up--you can't get the metal out if you don't. That's why we dug
this shaft--and now look at it!"

He drew the flickering torch to the edge of the shaft and held it
there, staring downward. Fairchild beside him. Twenty feet below
there came the glistening reflection of the flaring flame. Water!
Fairchild glanced toward his partner.

"I don't know anything about it," he said at last. "But I should think
that would mean trouble."

"Plenty!" agreed Harry lugubriously. "That shaft's two 'unnerd feet
deep and there 's a drift running off it for a couple o' 'unnerd feet
more before it 'its the vein. Four 'unnerd feet of water. 'Ow much
money 'ave you got?"

"About twenty-five hundred dollars."

Harry reached for his waving mustache, his haven in time of storm.
Thoughtfully he pulled at it, staring meanwhile downward. Then he
grunted.

"And I ain't got more 'n five 'unnerd. It ain't enough. We 'll need
to repair this 'oist and put the skip in order. We 'll need to build
new track and do a lot of things. Three thousand dollars ain't enough."

"But we 'll have to get that water out of there before we can do
anything." Fairchild interposed. "If we can't get at the vein up here,
we 'll have to get at it from below. And how 're we going to do that
without unwatering that shaft?"

Again Harry pulled at his mustache.

"That's just what 'Arry 's thinking about," came his answer finally.
"Le 's go back to town. I don't like to stand around this place and
just look at water in a 'ole."

They turned for the mouth of the tunnel, sliding along in the greasy
muck, the torch extinguished now. A moment of watchfulness from the
cover of the darkness, then Harry pointed. On the opposite hill, the
figure of a man had been outlined for just a second. Then he had
faded. And with the disappearance of the watcher, Harry nudged his
partner in