He listened to his cousin babbling meaninglessly in the throes of fever, and he heard the pitiful cry of the purple woman as she asked for water to moisten her parched mouth. Then he too gave way. Strong and brave he had been through all their privations, but he cried and chattered insanely to the figures he conjured up in the darkness. Death was hovering near them; the Black Angel was standing by them, and the Reaper had his scythe in his hand only waiting for the opportunity that he hoped would come, and that would enable him to cut down three more sheaves for his well stocked granary. * * * * * “I can’t think where the water comes from, Mr. Vermont. There must be a hidden spring somewhere. Can I have the pumps going and make preparations for an excavation?” “Certainly, Mennell, when you like,” and William Mennell, foreman of the Westpoint Gold Mines in Walla Balla, Australia, started his preparations. The part of the mine he was working on at the moment was overrun with water, which made the working very difficult, and was causing a great deal of anxiety about the ultimate safety of the mine. The pumps were made ready, a shaft was sunk, and they began to work. “The trouble is there, sir,” said he, indicating the ground under his foot. “I’ll have it all up to-morrow.” By six the next morning the men were hard at work, and merrily they shovelled the earth aside, cracking jokes meanwhile. Suddenly one of the men lurched forward and gave a cry as he threw himself backward on the ground behind him. “What’s up, Bill? Tea too strong this morning?” “Take care,” he shouted. “There’s a landslip or something. My spade went right through. There’s a hole there.” Carefully they examined the place, and found that the ground was not solid beneath, but below yawned a pitch dark cavern. “Where is Mr. Mennell? What had we better do?” Mennell came up. “Got a lantern, boys?” he asked. “Let’s see how deep it is.” They tied a miner’s lantern on to the end of a red neckerchief and let it down. “H’m, only about eight feet—during the blasting the land must have slipped. My God,” he shouted. “Ropes! Ladders! I’m going down.” “What’s wrong?” asked Ferrers, one of his pals. “You look as if you have seen a ghost.” Mennell wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Look down there, Ferrers,” said he hoarsely. “Can you see anything?” Ferrers took hold of the lantern and peered down into the blackness. Then suddenly he stood up and looked closely into Mennell’s face. “There is something there,” said he in an awe-struck voice. “Something that looks like men.” “You saw too?” “Aye, William.” “Then it was no ghost.” Down the rope ladder went Mennell, followed by Ferrers. They bent over the inanimate forms of Alan and Desmond Forsyth and gently carried them up into the mine. “What’s that?” Ferrers pointed to a far corner of the cave. “It’s a woman.”