"Right where Mr. Gary is standing now."
The gentleman referred to, a vice-president of the company, promptly stepped back, glancing at the floor almost apprehensively. This brought another laugh from the visitors.
"Come here, gentlemen," said Mr. Carrhart, "and I will show you where this young man fell in. I do not think we should be alive now had we been through that experience."
The president threw open the door leading into the skip shaft. The others had stepped up to him, but as the skips thundered past them, leaping for the surface, faintly outlined monsters as they shot by, the members of the party instinctively drew back, casting wondering glances at the keen-faced boy who stood calmly, almost indifferently, looking into the shaft.
Mr. Carrhart was explaining to them how the accident had occurred.
"Excuse me," said Mr. Cary. "I think I should prefer to be run over by a touring car on Broadway."
"And so should I," chorused the others, with the exception of Mr. Carrhart, who smiled grimly.
A lunch had been prepared for the guests and they were to eat in the mine, on the platform by the tally-boards and the chutes. Tables were being set, and by the time the visitors had turned away from the shaft opening they were invited to be seated on the benches drawn up for the purpose.
Steve and Bob stood talking with Mr. Carrhart, the president asking many questions.
"Come, Carrhart," called one of the others.