For the Allinson Honor. Bindloss Harold

that he climbed out of the flood. He was near the top when a cross-batten broke and Grennan, the fellow above him, slipping down a foot or two, bruised Andrew's fingers with his heavy boot. For a brief moment Andrew clung by one hand, and then, his overtired arm suddenly relaxing, his fingers loosed their grasp and he fell, half dazed from pain and horror, into the swirling flood below. A crash of the timbers somewhere in the shaft preceded a fresh onrush of water. The flood was neck-deep and rapidly rising.

      CHAPTER VIII

      THE ISLAND OF PINES

      When Carnally crawled out, wet and breathless, into the open air with the last of the men, he turned to speak to Andrew.

      "Where's the boss?" he demanded quickly of Grennan.

      Just then the roar of a fresh rushing of waters was borne up to them, and Carnally was filled with anxiety as he leaned over the edge of the pit.

      "Allinson!" he shouted.

      No answer came, and before the scared miners could fully realize what had happened, Carnally was sliding down the rope. In the feeble light at the bottom he saw Andrew's arms reaching above his head grasping desperately on to the ladder. He seemed unable to pull himself up, but held on with a vise-grip.

      "All right, Allinson!" Carnally called across reassuringly.

      Letting go of the rope, a few strokes in the water brought him to the ladder.

      "My knee!" explained Allinson, his face gray with pain. "Struck a sharp ledge at the bottom!"

      With Carnally's assistance, he managed to climb to the top of the ladder, where a dozen arms were extended to pull him to safety. He had a bad gash on his knee, his fingers on one hand were bruised and bleeding, and there was a large welt on his head where the cross-beam had struck him; but there seemed to be nothing serious.

      He held out his hand to Carnally, and they gripped in silence. Words were unnecessary.

      "The cross-pieces of the ladder could not have been properly notched in," Andrew said after a while. "I think it was supplied by Mappin?"

      "Yes," answered Carnally; "and it's a rough job!"

      "I must endeavor to see that Mappin does his work better. But what's to be done about the flooded level?"

      "Try to pump it out; it's fortunate that with a wood-burning engine fuel costs you nothing. I expect Watson will start all the boys at the new heading as soon as he gets back."

      They discussed the mine until Yan Li called them to supper, and for the next two weeks they worked very hard. Then Andrew went down to the Landing on business, and one day he sat lazily in a rowing skiff on the Lake of Shadows. A blaze of sunshine fell upon the shimmering water, which farther on was streaked with deep-blue lines, but close at hand it lay dim and still, reflecting the somber pines. The skiff was drifting past the shore of a rocky island, on which a few maples, turning crimson, made patches of glowing color among the dusky needles, when Andrew saw a girl sitting on the shore. She was near when he noticed her, and it struck him that she was remarkably pretty. The thin white dress, cut in the current American fashion, left her finely molded arms uncovered to the elbow and revealed her firm white throat. Her hands were shapely; and, for her hat lay beside her, he noticed the warm coppery tones in her hair. She had gray eyes and her face pleased him, though while observing the regularity of her features, he could not clearly analyze its charm. Then feeling that he had gazed at her as long as was admissible, he dipped his oars, but, somewhat to his astonishment, she called to him.

      "Did you see a canoe as you came?" she asked.

      "No," Andrew answered. "Have you lost yours?"

      "It floated away; I didn't notice until it was too late. It went toward the point."

      She indicated the end of the island, and Andrew nodded.

      "It would drift to leeward. I'll go and look for it."

      As he swung the skiff round it struck him that she had kept curiously still. Her pose was somewhat unusual, for she sat with her feet drawn up beneath her skirt, and skirts, as he remembered, were cut decidedly short. He rowed away and presently saw the canoe some distance off. On running alongside, he noticed a pair of light stockings in the bottom, and laughed as the reason for the girl's attitude became apparent. Pulling back with the canoe astern, he loosed the light craft and drove it toward the beach with a vigorous push.

      "Thank you," said the girl, and he tactfully rowed away.

      He had not gone far when he heard a hail and saw her standing on the point, waving her hand. For a moment or two he hesitated. As the canoe had grounded within her reach, he could not see what she wanted; and, in view of the discovery he had made, he had imagined that she would have been glad to get rid of him. Still, she had called him and he pulled back.

      "Can I be of any further assistance?" he asked, noticing with some relief that she now had her shoes on.

      "Yes," she said frankly. "I am marooned here; there's no paddle in the canoe."

      "No paddle? But how could it have fallen out?"

      "I don't know; and it doesn't seem an important point. Perhaps the canoe rocked, and it overbalanced."

      "I could tow you to the Landing," Andrew suggested.

      His manner was formally correct and she felt half amused. This young man was obviously not addicted to indiscriminate gallantry.

      "I don't want to go to the Landing, and the canoe would tow easier with no one on board. Your skiff should carry two."

      He ran the craft in, made fast the canoe, and then held out his hand. When she was seated, he pushed off.

      "Where shall I take you?" he asked gravely.

      "To the large island yonder – the Island of Pines," she said, indicating it; and he knew that this was Geraldine Frobisher, whom Mappin had discussed. Andrew admitted that his description of her was warranted.

      "You have been unlucky," he remarked.

      "I've been careless and have had to pay for it. We got breakfast early and I've missed my lunch."

      "It's nearly three o'clock," said Andrew, pulling faster. "But how is it no one came to look for you?"

      "My aunt goes to sleep in the afternoon; my father had some business at the Landing – if he had been at home it would have taken him some time to find me. He would have searched the nearer islands first, systematically and in rotation." She smiled. "That's the kind of man he is. I suppose you have guessed who I am?"

      "Miss Frobisher?"

      "And you're Mr. Allinson. It wasn't hard to identify you. Perhaps you know that your doings are a source of interest to the people at the Landing."

      "I can't see why that should be so."

      "For one thing, they seem to think you are up against what they call 'a tough proposition'."

      Andrew's face grew thoughtful. Since the collapse of the heading, he had spent a fortnight in determined physical toil, as his scarred hands and broken nails testified. It had been a time of stress and anxiety, and during it he had realized that the mine would be a costly one to work. The ore must carry a high percentage of metal if it were to pay for extraction.

      "I'm afraid that's true," he said.

      "Then you won't get much leisure for hunting and fishing?"

      Andrew laughed.

      "After all, those were not my objects in coming out, though you're not the only person who seems to have concluded that they were."

      "I have no opinion on the matter," Geraldine declared. "But at the Landing you are supposed to be more of a sportsman than a miner – isn't it flattering to feel that people are talking about you? Then you are really working at the mine?"

      "So far, I've saved the Company about two dollars and a-half a day."

      "But isn't your voice in controlling things worth more than that?"

      "No," Andrew replied; "I'm afraid it isn't."

      "Then you don't know much about mining?"

      "I