“Mr. Devlin,” said Mrs. Falchion, “I purpose to see this show not only from the stalls, but from the box in the flies. Therefore, during the first act, I shall be here in front of the foot-lights. During the second act I shall be aloft like Tom Bowling--” “In other words--” began Mr. Devlin. “In other words,” added Mrs. Falchion, “I am going to see the valley and hear your great horn blow from up there!” She pointed towards the star in front of Phil’s hut. “All right,” said Mr. Devlin; “but you will excuse me if I say that I don’t particularly want anybody to see this performance from where Tom Bowling bides.” We left the office and went out upon the platform, a little distance from the mill. Mr. Devlin gave a signal, touched a wire, and immediately it seemed as if the whole valley was alight. The mill itself was in a blaze of white. It was transfigured--a fairy palace, just as the mud barges in the Suez Canal had been transformed by the search-light of the ‘Fulvia’. For the moment, in the wonder of change from darkness to light, the valley became the picture of a dream. Every man was at his post in the mill, and in an instant work was going on as we had seen it in the morning. Then, all at once, there came a great roar, as it were, from the very heart of the mill--a deep diapason, dug out of the throat of the hills: the big whistle. “It sounds mournful--like a great animal in pain,” said Mrs. Falchion. “You might have got one more cheerful.” “Wait till it gets tuned up,” said Mr. Devlin. “It hasn’t had a chance to get the burs out of its throat. It will be very fine as soon as the engine-man knows how to manage it.” “Yes,” said Ruth, interposing, “a little toning down would do it good--it is shaking the windows in your office; feel this platform tremble!” “Well, I bargained for a big whistle and I’ve got it: and I guess they’ll know if ever there’s a fire in the town!” Just as he said this, Roscoe gave a cry and pointed. We all turned, and saw a sight that made Ruth Devlin cover her face with her hands and Mrs. Falchion stand horror-stricken. There, coming down the cable with the speed of lightning, was the cage. In it was a man--Phil Boldrick. With a cry and a smothered oath, Mr. Devlin sprang towards the machinery, Roscoe with him. There was nobody near it, but they saw a boy whose duty it was that night to manage the cable, running towards it. Roscoe was the first to reach the lever; but it was too late. He partially stopped the cage, but only partially. It came with a dull, sickening thud to the ground, and Phil Boldrick--Phil Boldrick’s broken, battered body--was thrown out. A few minutes later Boldrick was lying in Mr. Devlin’s office.