occasion to serve as
a boudoir where they might dress in comfort.

The mine owner's guests donned, with a good deal of hilarious merriment,
the short skirts, the boots, and the rubber helmets. The costumes could
not have been called becoming, but they were eminently suited for the
wet damp tunnels of the Never Quit.

After they had entered the cage it was a little terrifying to be shot so
rapidly down into the blackness of the mine.

"Don't be afraid. It's quite safe," Bleyer told them cheerfully.

At the tenth level the elevator stopped and they emerged into an open
space.

"We're going to follow this drift," explained the superintendent.

They seated themselves in ore cars and were wheeled into a cavern
lighted at intervals by electric bulbs. Presently the cars slowed down
and the occupants descended.

"This way," ordered Bleyer.

They followed in single file into a hot, damp tunnel, which dripped
moisture in big drops from the roof upon a rough, uneven floor of stone
and dirt where pools of water had occasionally gathered. The darkness
increased as they moved forward, driven back by the candles of the men
for a space scarce farther than they could reach with outstretched
hands.

Moya, bringing up the rear, could hear Bleyer explain the workings to
those at his heel. He talked of stopes, drifts, tunnels, wage scales,
shifts, high-grade ore, and other subjects that were as Greek to Joyce
and India. The atmosphere was oppressively close and warm, and the
oilskins that Moya wore seemed to weigh heavily upon her. She became
aware with some annoyance at herself that a faintness was stealing over
her brain and a mistiness over her eyes. To steady herself she stopped,
catching at the rough wall for support. The others, unaware that she was
not following, moved on. With a half articulate little cry she sank to
the ground.

When she came to herself the lights had disappeared. She was alone in
the most profound darkness she had ever known. It seemed to press upon
her so ponderably as almost to be tangible. The girl was frightened. Her
imagination began to conjure all sorts of dangers. Of cave-ins and
explosions she had heard and read a good deal. Anything was possible in
this thousand-foot deep grave. In a frightened, ineffective little voice
she cried out to her friends.

Instantly there came an answer--a faint tapping on the wall almost at
her ear. She listened breathlessly, and caught again that faint far
tap