"Were you in here when the flood came down?" asked Dick. "How is it you weren't drowned—for I see the water stood five feet deep in the tunnel?"
"Oh," replied the other, "there was no fear of drowning. There are plenty of places in here out of reach of the water. Wait a moment and you'll see."
True enough, we soon heard the striking of a match, and next we saw the Mexican standing with a torch in his hand in a recess about ten feet above us.
"That is where we took refuge," said our friend. "Far out of reach of the water, you see. Come on, now, and I'll show you how this old mine was worked, and why it was abandoned."
Leading the way, torch in hand, he presently stopped, and said:
"The place where we came in was the mouth of the main working-tunnel. It follows the vein into the rock for about a thousand feet, which would bring it, as I calculate, pretty near to the other cañon—for the rock between the two cañons is nothing more than a spit, as you will remember. Above the tunnel they have followed the vein upward, gouging out all the native copper and wastefully throwing away all the less valuable ore, until there was none left. If you look, you can see the empty crevice extending upward out of sight."
"I see," said Dick, shading his eyes from the glare of the torch. "It seems to have been pretty primitive mining."
"It was—that part of it, at least. But having exhausted all the copper above, they next began the more difficult process of mining downward. Come along this way and I'll show you."
Walking along the tunnel some distance, our guide pointed out to us a square pool in the floor, measuring about eight feet each way.