For some reason he had postponed his departure till after Hill's official
visit to Trelevan. He and Warden shared the largest house in the miners'
colony in Barren Valley. It was close to the mine at the end of the
valley, and part of it was used as the manager's office. It overlooked
the yellow torrent and the black wall of mountain beyond--a savage
prospect that might have been hewn from the crater of a dead volcano.

A rough track led to it, winding some twenty feet above the stream, and
up this track Fletcher Hill drove the two visitors on the evening of the
day succeeding their arrival at Trelevan.

There was a deadness of atmosphere between those rocky walls that struck
chill even to Adela's inconsequent soul. "What a ghastly place!" she
commented. "I should think Ezekiel's valley of dry bones must have been
something like this."

Harley met them at the door of his office with a smile in his crafty
eyes. "Warden is waiting for you in the mine," he said to Fletcher. "His
lambs have been a bit restless this afternoon. He has set his heart on a
full-dress parade, but I don't know if it will come off."

Fletcher's black brows drew together. "What do you mean by that?" he
demanded.

Harley shrugged his shoulders with a laugh. "You wait and see!"

The entrance to the mine yawned like an immense cavern in the rock. The
roaring screech of the machines issuing from it made an inferno of sound
from which, involuntarily, Dot shrank.