detecting an approach through the shadows, and that from the shelter of
the roof props and against the light we should be able to hold off a
large force almost indefinitely. In any case, we would have to gamble on
Brewer's winning through, and having sense enough in his opium-saturated
mind to make a convincing yarn of it. So after a drink at the _tenaja_
below the mine we entered the black square of the tunnel.

The work was old, but it had been well done. They must have dragged the
timbers down from the White Mountains. Indeed a number of unused beams,
both trunks of trees and squared, still lay around outside. From time to
time, since the original operations, some locoed prospector comes
projecting along and does a little work in hopes he may find something
the other fellow had missed. So the passage was crazy with props and
supports, new and old, placed to brace the ageing overhead timbers.
Going in they were a confounded nuisance against the bumped head; but
looking back toward the square of light they made fine protections
behind which to crouch. In this part of the country any tunnel would be
dry. It ran straight for about a hundred and fifty feet.

We groped our way about seventy-five feet, which was as far as we could
make out the opening distinctly, and sat down to wait. I still had the
rest of the tailor-made cigarettes, which I shared with Tim. We did not
talk, for we wished to listen for sounds outside. To judge by her
breathing, I think Miss Emory dozed, or even went to sleep.

About an hour later I thought to hear a single tinkle of shale. Tim
heard it, too, for he nudged me. Our straining ears caught nothing
further, however; and I, for one, had relaxed from my tension when the
square of light was darkened by a figure. I was nearest, so I raised
Cortinez's gun and fired. The girl uttered a scream, and the figure