a tone of
disgust, "I thought we were working on a power plant. Not that a gold
mine is so bad; but we can't work it--we can't go down after it at ten
miles."

"Gold mine!" Rawson echoed. "I'll say it's a gold mine--but not
because of the gold. Do you notice anything peculiar about that,
Smithy?"

His assistant replied with a quick exclamation:

"You're right, Dean! I knew there was something haywire with that.
Solid chunk--been cast around that stem--melted on. And that means--"

"Heat," said Rawson. "It means we've found what we're after. Give the
gold to the men; tell them we'll divide it evenly among them. There's
more down there, but there's something better: there's energy, power!"

He snapped out quick orders. "Get the temperature. Drop a recording
pyrometer. Let me know at once. There'll be plenty doing now!"

* * * * *

Drill rods and cables, all were made of the newest aluminum alloy. The
long tube that held the pyrometer was formed of the same metal. Smithy
sent it down to get a recording of the temperatures of that
subterranean cave into which their tools had plunged.

He adjusted the recording mechanism himself and stood beside the
twenty-inch casing that held back the loose sand from the big bore.
Then he watched ten sections of cable, each a mile in length, each
heavier than the last, as they went hissing into the earth.

From the cable control shed the voice of Riley was calling the depth.

"Fifty-two thousand." Then by hundreds until he cried:
"Fifty-two-seven. We're into the big cave! Now another hundred feet."

The cable was moving slowly. In the middle of Riley's call of
"Fifty-two-eight," a jangling bell told that the bottom of the
pyrometer carrier had touched.

"Up with it," Smithy ordered. "Make it snappy. We'll see if we've got
another cargo of gold."

There was an undeniable thrill in this reaching to a tremendous
distance underground, this groping about in a deep-hidden cave, where
molten gold was to be found. What had they tapped?--he asked himself.
He saw visions of some vast pool of hot, liquid gold. Perhaps Dean
would have to change his plans. They could rig up some kind of a
bailer; they could bring out thousands of dollars at a time.

He was watching for the first sight of the metal carrier, far more
interested in what might be clinging to it than in the record of the
pyrometer it held. He saw it emerge--then he stared in disbelief at
the