was grievously disappointed to see instead a group of three
burly strangers clad in mining costume. As they drew near he
recognized them to be Bohemians, and was particularly struck by the
hideous expression of him who seemed to act as leader of the party.

Although the new-comers started at sight of the young man, and
regarded him with scowling faces as they drew near, they did not speak
nor offer to molest him, but passed by in silence.

Disappointed that they were not his own men, but relieved to be so
easily rid of them, Peveril again turned his attention to the
semi-deserted mining village that had so aroused his curiosity. So
deeply interested did he at once become in watching a team of oxen
that had just appeared, hauling a log over a rise of ground, that he
did not hear the approach of stealthy footsteps nor note the crouching
forms creeping up behind him. Closer and closer they came, until they
were within reach of their unconscious victim. Then they sprang upon
him all at once, and he was hurled to the ground.

In another moment his arms were bound, and he recognized in one
distorted face, leering close above his own, that of the man who had
led the attack on him in the mine, and whom he had sent reeling away
with a broken jaw.

Now the cruel face was rendered doubly hideous by a grin of triumph,
and Peveril's heart sank within him as he gazed into the pitiless eyes
that lighted its brutish features.

CHAPTER XV

PEVERIL IN THE HANDS OF HIS ENEMIES

Having been driven from Red Jacket by the Cornishmen under Mark
Trefethen, the Bohemian, Rothsky, and his fellow car-pushers of the
White Pine Mine who had assaulted Peveril on his first day of work,
had taken to the woods like wild beasts. Although restrained of their
evil intentions for the time being, they were more bitter than ever
against the innocent cause of their trouble, and swore, with strange,
foreign oaths, to kill him if the chance should ever offer.

In the meantime they must find some way of gaining a livelihood, and
this finally came to them at a queer, semi-abandoned mine across which
they stumbled in the course of their wanderings. Its proprietor was an
old man who seemed half crazed; and the mine that he was working in a
small way, with a pitifully inadequate force, was absolutely barren of
copper; but, as he paid their wages promptly, the car-pushers were
willing to do his bidding without asking questions.

One of the scarces