Sandy, who would be sure to be hungry, would return in time to partake
of it. A dozen times during the meal they walked back to the shaft
opening and looked anxiously down into the dark bowels of the mine.

"Those fellows are always getting into trouble," Will said, rather
crossly, as he stood looking down. "They have a way of running into
most of their dangers at night, too. It was the same up on Lake
Superior, the same in the snake-haunted Everglades of Florida; the
same on the Rocky Mountains, and the same in the Hudson Bay country."

"They sure do keep things moving," grinned George.

"I think," Will suggested after a time, "that we'd better find
Canfield and get his advice before we do anything in the way of
setting up a search. I hate to admit that two members of our party
got into a scrape on the same night we struck the mine, but I guess
there's, no way out of it."

While the boys talked together, the door opened softly and the
caretaker entered, accompanied by a short, paunchy man with a very red
face and eyes which were black, small and suspicious. He was a man
well past middle age, but he seemed to be making a bluff at
thirty-five. His hair, which had turned white at the temples, and his
moustache were both dyed black.

Canfield introduced the new-comer as the detective, Joe Ventner, of
New York, and the boys greeted him courteously.

He accepted their proffered hands with an air of condescension which
was most exasperating. He puffed out his chest, and at once began