For the Allinson Honor. Harold Bindloss

forgotten the lode and I've thought of it often the last year or two. My girl is teaching, the boy has got a post, and I have a few dollars accumulating in the bank."

      Graham, breaking off, filled his pipe and laughed softly before he went on.

      "That's my story, Mr. Allinson; but perhaps it isn't finished yet. I may take the trail again some day, but it will have to be soon. The North is a hard country, and I'm getting old."

      Andrew was moved. Loving adventure as he did, he could imagine what Graham's self-denial had cost him while he had cheerfully carried out his duty to his family.

      "Prospecting would no doubt be easier now?" he suggested.

      "Much easier," said Graham. "The railroad has opened up the country, and the Company finds miners very good customers. Only, when you get back a short distance from the track, the North is still unsubdued. To grapple with its snow and ice, its rapids and muskegs, is mighty tough work."

      They talked about other matters, until the chilly mist, gathering thicker round the camp, drove them into the tent.

CHAPTER VII

       THE AMATEUR MINER

       Table of Contents

      It was afternoon, and hot sunshine poured down into the little valley. Andrew stood at the foot of a low range, looking about with keen interest. The strip of level ground between rock and river was strewn with small fir stumps, among which lay half-burned logs and branches. On the edge of the clearing stood two log shacks and a smith's shop, with an unsightly heap of empty cans, broken boots and discarded clothing in front of them. A bank of shattered stone stretched toward the stream, and on a scarped slope of the hillside where the rocks shone a warm pink there was a black hole. A stream of water flowing out of it ran down a trench. This was the Rain Bluff Mine. Andrew felt disappointed. There was not much to show for the capital that had been subscribed. He supposed, however, that the pieces of machinery which lay in disorder about the waterside were expensive, and he meant to ascertain their cost.

      "Why don't they get those things fitted up and working?" he asked Carnally, who stood near him.

      "They're not complete. We're waiting until the Mappin people bring the rest of them."

      Andrew pointed to several stacks of small logs.

      "I suppose those are props? You seem to use a good many. Do you cut them on the spot?"

      "The Mappin boys do. The Company pays for them by the foot."

      "It strikes me that Mappin's doing a good deal of the Company's work. However, it looks as if we meant to dig the ore out."

      Carnally saw impatience and suspicion in his face.

      "I'm asking a good many questions, Jake," Andrew went on: "but I'm in the unfortunate position of having to look after matters I know nothing about. That's a rather remarkable qualification for a director."

      "It isn't altogether unusual," Carnally replied. "I could point out one or two men who couldn't tell a pump from a rock drill, and control mining concerns."

      "It sounds surprising. How's it done?"

      "By hiring subordinates with brains and keeping a careful eye on them."

      "I'm serious, Jake. The Company pays my expenses and two hundred dollars a month while I'm in Canada. It's the shareholders' money; I feel that I ought to earn it."

      "You may have trouble."

      "That won't matter. I've had only a few words with the mine boss, Watson. What kind of man is he?"

      "He's straight; a smart manager underground, good at timbering and getting ore out; but that's as far as he goes."

      "Well, we'll look at the workings."

      As they approached the adit Watson came to meet them. He was a short, wiry man, clad in wet, soil-stained overalls. Andrew indicated the drainage trench.

      "There seems to be a good deal of water in the mine."

      "That's so," said Watson. "We want to get rid of it. I've several boys in the sump, baling it up with coal-oil cans."

      "You mean the five-gallon drums you get your kerosene in?" Andrew asked in surprise. "Why don't you order a pump?"

      "We've got half of one and the engine's fixed. Guess we'll get the rest when Mappin's ready."

      "I'll send down word about it to the Landing."

      "You needn't. One of the river bosses is up here; he's getting his dinner now."

      "But dinner has been finished some time."

      "That don't count. We had pork to-day and the Mappin man figured he'd like trout, so I had to tell Yan Li to cook him some. If you want your plant brought up, you have to be civil to the transport people."

      The color swept into Andrew's face.

      "Bring the fellow here!"

      Watson grinned and called to a miner at work on the dump. The miner disappeared and presently came back with a man.

      "You sent for me, Mr. Allinson?" he said, as if he resented it.

      "I did," answered Andrew curtly. "You have a pump of ours which has been in your hands some time. I want it delivered here immediately."

      The man looked surprised at his tone.

      "We'll do what we can, but most of the boys are busy on the road."

      "Then you had better send them back to the canoes. Our supplies must not be stopped."

      "It's awkward," said the other. "You don't quite understand yet how things are run here, Mr. Allinson. You want to give and take."

      "I expect to understand them better soon," Andrew dryly rejoined. "What we want at present is the pump, and if it isn't here by next week I'll charge your employer with the extra expense we're being put to."

      "The office wouldn't allow your claim."

      "I won't make one," said Andrew. "I'll knock it off your bill. No accounts will be paid without my sanction."

      "Oh, well," said the other, "since you make a point of it, I'll get down the river right away and see where that pump is."

      He left them, and Watson looked at Carnally as they entered the mine.

      "And I thought he was an English sucker!" he remarked.

      "You were wrong," said Carnally. "You'll know Mr. Allinson better in a little while."

      Seeing that Andrew was waiting, Watson gave him a small flat lamp to hook in his hat, and they went down a narrow gallery. By the uncertain smoky light Andrew could see that it was strongly timbered: stout props were ranged along its sides, and beams, some cracked and sagging, spanned the roof between. The floor was wet and strewn with large fragments, which seemed to have fallen lately. Watson explained that they were working through treacherous rocks. Presently they stopped at the top of a dark hole, where a man was busy at a primitive windlass.

      "Lode dips sharply here," Watson explained. "We had to go down a bit, but we'll push on this heading. Pay dirt's badly broken up, but we'll fix things different when we strike it fair. It's pretty wet in the lower level; do you feel like going down?"

      Andrew put on the waterproof jacket that had been given him, and looked at the pit. A rough ladder ran down its side, but the man at the windlass turned to him as he emptied a big can into the drainage trench.

      "The rope's quicker and quite as safe," he said. "One of the Mappin boys made that ladder and fixed it wrong. Catch hold here and get a turn round your foot; you don't want to go through the bottom of the can."

      Andrew having done as he was directed, the man called a warning to somebody