It was afternoon, and hot sunshine poured down into the little valley. Andrew stood at the foot of a low range, looking about with keen interest. The strip of level ground between rock and river was strewn with small fir stumps, among which lay half-burned logs and branches. On the edge of the clearing stood two log shacks and a smith's shop, with an unsightly heap of empty cans, broken boots and discarded clothing in front of them. A bank of shattered stone stretched toward the stream, and on a scarped slope of the hillside where the rocks shone a warm pink there was a black hole. A stream of water flowing out of it ran down a trench. This was the Rain Bluff Mine. Andrew felt disappointed. There was not much to show for the capital that had been subscribed. He supposed, however, that the pieces of machinery which lay in disorder about the waterside were expensive, and he meant to ascertain their cost. "Why don't they get those things fitted up and working?" he asked Carnally, who stood near him. "They're not complete. We're waiting until the Mappin people bring the rest of them." Andrew pointed to several stacks of small logs. "I suppose those are props? You seem to use a good many. Do you cut them on the spot?" "The Mappin boys do. The Company pays for them by the foot." "It strikes me that Mappin's doing a good deal of the Company's work. However, it looks as if we meant to dig the ore out." Carnally saw impatience and suspicion in his face. "I'm asking a good many questions, Jake," Andrew went on: "but I'm in the unfortunate position of having to look after matters I know nothing about. That's a rather remarkable qualification for a director." "It isn't altogether unusual," Carnally replied. "I could point out one or two men who couldn't tell a pump from a rock drill, and control mining concerns." "It sounds surprising. How's it done?" "By hiring subordinates with brains and keeping a careful eye on them." "I'm serious, Jake. The Company pays my expenses and two hundred dollars a month while I'm in Canada. It's the shareholders' money; I feel that I ought to earn it." "You may have trouble." "That won't matter. I've had only a few words with the mine boss, Watson. What kind of man is he?" "He's straight; a smart manager underground, good at timbering and getting ore out; but that's as far as he goes." "Well, we'll look at the workings." As they approached the adit Watson came to meet them. He was a short, wiry man, clad in wet, soil-stained overalls. Andrew indicated the drainage trench. "There seems to be a good deal of water in the mine." "That's so," said Watson. "We want to get rid of it. I've several boys in the sump, baling it up with coal-oil cans." "You mean the five-gallon drums you get your kerosene in?" Andrew asked in surprise. "Why don't you order a pump?" "We've got half of one and the engine's fixed. Guess we'll get the rest when Mappin's ready." "I'll send down word about it to the Landing."