saw that the sparse stulls, caps,
and columns were still holding their own, and that the heavy
porphyritic formation would scarcely have given had the timbers rotted
away. Dank, glistening walls and a tremulous waving blackness were
ahead of them as they cautiously invaded the long-deserted precincts,
scraping and striking here and there with their prospector's picks in
search of the lost lead.

"About two hundred feet from the shaft, Bells said," Dick commented.
"And this must be about the place where they cut through pay ore in
search of another lobe of the Bonanza Chute. What thieves they were!"

He suddenly became aware that his companion was not with him, and
whirled round. Back of him shone a tiny spark of flaring light,
striving to illumine the solid blackness. He paused expectantly, and a
voice came bellowing through the dark:

"Here it is. The old man's right, I think. This looks like ore to
me."

Dick hastened back, and assisted while they broke away the looser
pieces of green rock, glowing dully, and filled their sample sacks.

Three hours later they stood over the scales in the log assay-house
above, and congratulated each other.

"It'll pay!" Dick declared gleefully. "Not much, but enough to justify
going on with the work. I am glad I wrote Sloan that I should draw on
him, and now we'll go ahead and hire a small gang to set the mill and
the Cross in shape."

They were like boys when they crossed to the engine house and told the
news to the hard-worked engineer, who chuckeled softly and asserted
that he had "told them so."

"Now, the best way for you to get a gang around here," he said, "is
to go down to Goldpan and tell 'The Lily' you want her to pass the
word, or stick a sign up in her place saying what men, and how many,
you want."

"Sounds like a nice name," Mathews commented.

"The Lily?" questioned Dick, anxious as to who this camp character
could be.

"Sure," the engineer rasped, as if annoyed by their ignorance. "Ain't
you never heard of her? Well, her right name, so they tell, is Lily
Meredith. She owns the place called the High Light. Everybody knows
her. She's square, even if she does run a dance hall and rents a
gamblin' joint. She don't stand for nothin' crooked, Lily don't. She
pays her way, and asks no favors. Go down and tell her you want men.
They all go there, some time or another."

He stooped over to inspect the fire under the small boiler he was
working, and straightene