id Isley.

"Oh, it's--why, why--nothin'," answered Bob, rousing himself. "Is that a
paper in yer father's coat-pocket, Isley?"

"Yes," said the boy, taking it out.

Bob took the paper and stared hard at it for a moment or so.

"There's something about the new goldfields there," said Bob, putting
his finger on a tailor's advertisement. "I wish you'd--why--read it to
me, Isley; I can't see the small print they uses nowadays."

"No, thet's not it," said the boy, taking the paper, "it's something
about--"

"Isley!"

"'Old on, Bob, father wants me."

The boy ran to the shaft, rested his hands and forehead against the bole
of the windlass, and leant over to hear what his father was saying.

Without a moment's warning the treacherous bole slipped round; a small
body bounded a couple of times against the sides of the shaft and fell
at Mason's feet, where it lay motionless!

"Mason!"

"Ay?"

"Put him in the bucket and lash him to the rope with your belt!"

A few moments, and--

"Now, Bob!"

Bob's trembling hands would scarcely grasp the handle, but he managed to
wind somehow.

Presently the form of the child appeared, motionless and covered with
clay and water. Mason was climbing up by the steps in the side of the
shaft.

Bob tenderly unlashed the boy and laid him under the saplings on the
grass; then he wiped some of the clay and blood away from the child's
forehead, and dashed over him some muddy water.

Presently Isley gave a gasp and opened his eyes.

"Are yer--why--hurt much, Isley?" asked Bob.

"Ba-back's bruk, Bob!"

"Not so bad as that, old man."

"Where's father?"

"Coming up."

Silence awhile, and then--

"Father! father! be quick, father!"

Mason reached the surface and came and knelt by the other side of the
boy.

"I'll, I'll--why--run fur some brandy," said Bob.

"No use, Bob," said Isley. "I'm all bruk up."

"Don't yer feel better, sonny?"

"No--I'm--goin' to--die, Bob."

"Don't say it, Isley," groaned Bob.

A short silence, and then the boy's body suddenly twisted with pain. But
it was soon over. He lay still awhile, and then said quietly:

"Good-bye, Bob!"

Bob made a vain attempt to speak. "Isley!" he said,"---"

The child turned and stretched out his hands to the silent, stony-faced
man on the other side.

"Father--father, I'm goin'!"

A shuddering groan broke from Mason's lips, and then all was quiet.

Bob had taken off his hat to wipe his, forehead, and