One of them was an inky arch in a frame of timbers. In the distance of the others lights gleamed. Now and then a bare body, streaming with perspiration, came into view pushing an ore car. With an increasing rattle it was rolled to the shaft opening and on to a waiting cage which slid up. The miner slouched back into the gloom, the noise of the empty car he propelled before him gradually dying away. Black Dan could hear again the voices and then, muffled by earth and timbers, the thud of the picks. Sitting on an upturned box--the king of this world of subterranean labor--he sat waiting, motionless, save for his moving eyes. Suddenly from the undefined noises, the beat of an advancing footfall detached itself. He gave a low, inarticulate sound, and drew himself upright, a hand falling on either knee, his dark face full of a grim fixity of attention. Down one of the tunnels the figure of Jerry came into view, walking rapidly. He was smiling, for this summons made his escape from the mine easier than it would otherwise have been. A word or two from Black Dan and then up on the cage, and then--away into the night where love and a woman were waiting. The culminating excitement of the day made his eye brilliant and deepened the color of his face. Full of the joys and juices of life, triumphantly handsome even in his rough clothes, he was a man made for the seduction of women. Black Dan felt it and it deepened his hate. “Did you want me?” he called as he drew near. “One of the pick-boys said you sent for me.” “Yes, I want to see you for a moment. I want to ask you about something.” The elder man rose slowly from his box. His eyes were burning under the shadow of his hat brim. “Come over here near the light,” he said. “I’ve something I want to show you.” Near the entrance to the shaft there was a large lantern, backed by a tin reflector. It cast a powerful light on the muddy ground and the plates of iron that made a smooth flooring round the landing. Black Dan walked to it and stood there waiting. As Jerry approached he drew June’s letter from his pocket and handed it to him. Jerry was taken completely off his guard, and for a moment was speechless. He took the letter and turned it over. “What’s this? Where--where’d you get it?” he faltered, his tongue suddenly dry. For answer a terrible burst of profanity broke from the older man. He fell on Jerry like a lion. In the grip of his mighty muscles the other was borne back toward the opening of the shaft, helpless and struggling. He clutched at the iron supports, for a moment caught one and clung, while the cry of his agony rang out shrill as a woman’s. In the next his hands were torn away and the slippery iron plates slid beneath his feet. For one instant of horror he reeled on the edge of the abyss, then went backward and down. A cry rose that passed like a note of death through the upper levels of the mine.