e full of sand. Dayton and
Allery Jones were frankly puffing and groaning, but Mr. Fetherbee
scorned to make any such concession to circumstances. He was wondering
whether his gait would be permanently out of kilter after this
complicated and violent scramble, when he became aware that the lateral
slant was gradually lessening. A moment later he and his two companions
had loosed their hold and stood stretching and rubbing themselves, while
the wagon, under Discombe's pilotage, continued on its way, scooping the
horses down the hill at an increasing rate of speed. Just above where
they were standing, was a shed-like structure which looked much the
worse for wind and weather.

"That's the old shaft of the 'Coreopsis,'" Dayton remarked.

"So it is," said Jones. "Harry de Luce went down on the rope the other
day."

"How do you do it?" asked Mr. Fetherbee, much interested.

"Hand over hand, I suppose; or else you just let her slide. De Luce went
down like a monkey."

"He must have come up like a monkey! I don't see how he did it!"

"He didn't come up; he went out by the tunnel. It would take more than a
monkey to go up three hundred feet on a slack rope, or thirty feet
either, for the matter of that."

As Mr. Fetherbee stood mopping his brow, thereby spreading a cake of
mud which he had unsuspectingly worn since morning, in a genial pattern
over his right temple, a consuming ambition seized him.

"Now that's something I should like to do," he declared. "Anything to
prevent?"

"Why, no; not if you're up to that kind of thing. They're doing it every
day."

"Why don't you go down that way now?" Dayton asked. "We shall be driving
right by the tunnel in an hour or two, and can pick you up."

By this time they had effected an entrance into the shed, the door of
which was securely locked, while the boards of one entire side of the
tumble-down structure swung in at a touch. The three men stood looking
down the pitch black hole into which the rope disappeared.

"Looks kind of pokey, doesn't it?" said Allery Jones. "Think you'd
better try it, Fetherbee?"

For answer, Mr. Fetherbee seized the lightly swinging rope with both
hands, twisted one leg about it and slid gaily from sight.

"_Bon voyage!_" called Dayton, down the inky shaft.

"_Yage!_" came a hollow voice from the reverberating depths. They felt
of the rope which was taut and firm.

"He's all right," said Dayton. "There's not enough of him to get hurt,"
an