It was dark when he reached the camp, after an arduous journey, and found Devine and Saunders sitting beside the fire. The latter, it transpired, had engaged a clerk in Vancouver to take charge of his store, and he smiled when Weston inquired whether he expected the man to remain at the settlement any longer than his predecessor had done when he heard that there was a new gold find in reach of him.
“I guess I’ve fixed that,” he said. “I took some trouble to get one who was very lame.”
Neither of the pair, however, appeared cheerful, and Weston’s face grew hard when he heard what they had to say about the mine.
“As you’d see by the specimens, we were turning out high-grade milling ore a little while ago,” Devine observed.
“Well?”
The surveyor’s gesture was expressive. “We’re not in it now. Ore’s turned spotty, and it’s running deeper. I think I remember your telling me that Grenfell figured that the lode takes an inclination?”
“He certainly did.”
“It’s another proof that you could count on what he said. There’s no doubt about that inclination. We can’t get out ore that will pay for crushing with an open cut much longer.”
“Then,” said Weston, “we can follow it with an adit.”
He looked at Saunders, who smiled in a rather grim fashion.