"Are you people following an ore-lead back yonder?" he asked sharply.
The Irishman squirmed, glancing back at his questioner. He saw nothing in that face to yield any encouragement to deceit.
"Sure," he returned gruffly, "we're follyin' it all down that Number Wan."
"What 's the nature of the ore body?"
"A bit low grade, wid a thrifle of copper, an' the vein is n't overly tick."
"How far have you had to cut across here before striking color?"
"'Bout thirty fate o' rock work."
"Hike on, you thief," commanded the engineer, his jaw setting threateningly.
It proved a decidedly crooked passage, the top uneven in height, clearly indicating numerous faults in the vein, although none of these were sufficiently serious to necessitate the solution of any difficult mining problem. In spite of the turns the general direction could be ascertained easily. The walls were apparently of some soft stone, somewhat disintegrated by the introduction of air, and the engineer quickly comprehended that pick and lever alone had been required to dislodge the interlying vein of ore. At the extreme end of this tunnel the pile of broken rock lying scattered about clearly proclaimed recent labor, although no discarded mining tools were visible. Winston examined the exposed ore-vein, now clearly revealed by Burke's flickering lamp, and dropped a few detached specimens into his pocket. Then he sat down on an outcropping stone, the revolver still gleaming within his fingers, and ordered the sullen foreman to a similar seat opposite. The yellow rays of the light sparkled brilliantly from off the outcropping mass, and flung its radiance across the faces of the two men. For a moment the silence was so intense they could hear water drip somewhere afar off.
"Burke," asked the engineer suddenly, "how long have you fellows been in here?"