seemed to be the only word in my brain.

"I went down to Thompson's stope. But I was too late. The men had walled
you in with rocks, and I couldn't move them. I tried!" (I thought she
must hear the leap my heart gave. I know I shut my jaws to keep my
tongue between my teeth at the thought of her trying to dig her way in
to me, the only friend she had in the world except a French-Canadian
cook.) "I----Oh, I thought if I could find Charliet we might do
something! I went back to look for him, and I found _you_----Oh, I found
you!" Her arms were still on my shoulders as I knelt by her, and
suddenly her voice turned low and anxious. "What do you suppose became
of Charliet? He's so faithful. We can't leave him for Dick to turn on
when he can't find me!"

I was not thinking of Charliet. I couldn't honestly care what had become
of him, with my dream girl in my arms. I may as well tell the truth; I
forgot Dudley, too. I don't know what mad words would have come out of
my mouth if Paulette had not pushed me away violently. What was left of
her coffee upset; I got to my feet with the empty cup in my hand, just
as Collins and Dunn and their candle emerged round the boulder. I
remembered long afterwards that it was before I had answered Paulette
one word about myself, Thompson's stope, anything. But then all I did
was to stare at something Collins was carrying carefully in his two
hands. "What's that?" I said--just to say something.

"Some new kind of high explosive Wilbraham got to try and never did,"
Collins returned casually. "Saw it in his office to-night and thought it
was better with us than with Macartney. Don't know just how it works, so
I'm treating it gingerly." He moved on into the darkness of his own
tunnel and came back empty-handed. "What are we going to do--first?" he
inquired calmly.

I took a look at Paulette. Whether it was from Collins's casual mention
of Dudley's name or not, she was ghastly. Who she was looking at I
don't know; but it wasn't at me.

"Sleep," said I grimly. "Two of us need it, if you and Dunn don't.
Macartney can't get us to-night." Though of that I was none too sure.
Charliet might get rattled any moment and give us away. But there was no
good in sticking at trifles.

But Collins was an astute devil. "He won't," he rejoined as calmly as if
I had spoken of Charliet out loud. "He won't get hurt, either; you can
bank on that. Make up that fire, Dunn, and we'll give Miss Paulette the
blanket