The four boys were members of the Beaver Patrol, Chicago. Will Smith
was Scoutmaster, while George Benton was Patrol Leader. They wore
upon the sleeves of their coats medals showing that they had passed
the examination as Ambulance Aids, Stalkers, Pioneers and Seamen.

Instructed by Mr. Horton, a well-known criminal lawyer of Chicago, the
boys had reached the almost deserted mine at dusk of a November day.
There they had found Canfield, the caretaker, waiting for them in a
dimly-lighted office. The mine had not been operated for a number of
months, not because the veins had given out, but because of some
misunderstanding between the owners of mines in that section.

The large, bare room in which the caretaker and the Boy Scouts met was
in the breaker. There was no fire in the great heater, and the tables
and chairs were black with dust. A single electric light shone down
from the ceiling, creating long, ghost-like shadows as it swayed about
in a gentle wind blowing through a broken window.

"Well," Tommy Gregory said, as the caretaker paused, "you've got the
Boy Scouts, and it remains for you to set us to work."

"And a sturdy looking lot, too!" grinned the caretaker.

"Oh, Mr. Horton wouldn't be apt to send a lot of cripples!" laughed
Sandy Green. "He's next to his job, that man is!"

"I presume he told you all about the case?" suggested Canfield.

"Indeed he did not," replied Will Smith.