"I think," Will suggested after a time, "that we'd better find Canfield and get his advice before we do anything in the way of setting up a search. I hate to admit that two members of our party got into a scrape on the same night we struck the mine, but I guess there's no way out of it."
While the boys talked together, the door opened softly and the caretaker entered, accompanied by a short, paunchy man with a very red face and eyes which were black, small and suspicious. He was a man well past middle age, but he seemed to be making a bluff at thirty-five. His hair, which had turned white at the temples, and his moustache were both dyed black.
Canfield introduced the new-comers as the detective, Joe Ventner, of New York, and the boys greeted him courteously.
He accepted their proffered hands with an air of condescension which was most exasperating. He puffed out his chest, and at once began talking of some of his alleged exploits in the secret service of the government.
"How did you pass the night, boys?" asked the caretaker.
"Slept like pigs!" replied Will with a laugh.
"Where are the others?" asked Canfield.
"They're out getting a breath of fresh air, I reckon," answered George.
The boys did not take to the detective at all. There was an air of insincerity about the man which at once put them on their guard.
Had Canfield visited them alone, they would have explained to him the exact situation. In the presence of this detective, however, they decided to do nothing of the kind.