It was spoken lightly; because the man was serious, but Vane knew he had an ally who would support him with unflinching staunchness.
“I’m far from sure it will be needful,” he replied, and they talked about other matters until they strolled off to their rooms.
They spent the next week in the city, where Vane was kept occupied; after which they sailed once more for the north; and pushed inland until they were stopped by snow among the ranges, without finding the spruce. The journey proved as toilsome as the previous one, and both the men were worn out when they reached the coast. Vane was determined on making a third attempt, but he informed Carroll that they would visit the mine before proceeding to Vancouver. They had heavy rain during the voyage down the Strait, and when on the day after reaching port, the jaded horses they had hired plodded up the sloppy trail to the mine, a pitiless deluge once more poured down on them.
The light was growing dim among the dripping firs, and a deep-toned roar came throbbing across their shadowy ranks. By and by Vane; who was leading, turned and glanced back at Carroll.
“I’ve never heard the river so plainly before,” he said. “It must be unusually swollen.”
Since the mine was situated on a narrow level flat between the hillside and the river, Carroll understood the anxiety in his comrade’s voice; and urging the wearied horses they pressed on a little faster. It was almost dark when they reached the edge of an opening in the firs, and saw a cluster of iron-roofed, wooden buildings and a tall chimney stack, in front of which the unsightly ore-dump extended. Wet and chilled and worn out as the men were, there was comfort in the sight; but Vane noticed that a shallow lake stretched between him and the buildings. On one side of it there was a broad strip of tumbling foam, which rose and fell in confused upheavals and filled the forest with the roar it made. Vane drove his horse into the water, and dismounting among the stumps before the ore-dump, found a wet and soil-stained man awaiting him. A long trail of smoke floated away from the iron stack behind him, and through the sound of the river there broke the clank and thud of hard-driven pumps.
“You have got a big head of steam up, Salter,” he said.
The man nodded. “We want it. It’s taking me all my time to keep the water out of the workings. Leave your horses—I’ll send along for them—and I’ll show you what we’ve been doing after supper.”
“I’d sooner go now, while I’m wet,” Vane answered.
They went down into the mine. The approach looked like a canal, and they descended the shallow shaft amidst a thin cascade. The tunnel they reached slanted, for the lode dipped, and the lights that twinkled here and there among the timbering showed shadowy, half-naked figures toiling in water which rose well up their boots. Further streams of it ran in from fissures, and Vane’s face grew grave as he plodded through the flood with a lamp in his hand. He spent an hour in the workings, asking Salter a question now and then, and afterwards went back with him to one of the sheds, where he dressed in dry clothes and sat down to a meal.