It was in August, 1882, during a sketching tour in California, that Mr. Sandham met with this alarming adventure. Accompanied by a brother artist, he paid a visit to the Little Sailor Mine, which is situated on a spur of the Sierra Madre Mountains, by the side of the Sacramento River, some fifty miles from San Francisco. The manager of the mine, in which hydraulic power is used, invited Mr. Sandham to accompany him on the occasion of the monthly clean-up of the gold in the tunnels. Always anxious to add to his store of information, the artist gladly accepted the invitation, asking at the same time that his friend might join the party, to which request the manager readily assented. On the following day Mr. Sandham was on the spot at the appointed time, eager for what was to him an entirely novel experience. His friend, however, was late, and he decided to wait for him. As subsequent events proved, Mr. Sandham owes his life entirely to this trivial incident! The manager and his staff of assistants, anxious to start the work of cleaning up without delay, thereupon entered the tunnel, which had been cut through a high bluff to allow the water a free passage to the Sacramento River, several thousand feet below the level of the mine. While waiting for his friend, Mr. Sandham employed his time in making a sketch of the only "monitor" (delivery-nozzle) then working, and the man in charge of it sauntered over to watch the progress of his facile pencil. Before his sketch was finished Mr. Sandham noticed that the "monitor," which had hitherto been throwing a regular jet of water at a terrific pressure, by means of which the solid rock was literally washed away, had become spasmodic in its action. Curious to learn the reason, he called the miner's attention to the fact. To his utter astonishment the engineer received his remark with the utmost consternation, and, throwing up his hands with a gesture of despair, shrieked:-- "Good heavens! The pipe has burst, and all the boys will be drowned!"