“Pete!” he shouted.

His voice sounded muffled and he wondered whether Pete could hear, but tried to fix his attention on the dark in front.  It was there that danger might lurk.  Then he heard Pete stumbling among the stones, and presently the man came up, panting with haste.

“Where’s the lamp?” Foster asked.

He knew he was going to do a dangerous thing if Daly was hiding near, but something must be risked and he struck a match.  It sputtered, throwing an illusive gleam on the wet rock a yard or two in front, and then went out.  Foster struck another with a hoarse exclamation and touched the wick of a small, flat, metal lamp, such as Western miners hook on their hats.  Candles are not common in Canadian towns where water-power makes electric lighting cheap.  The lamp gave a dim smoky light, and when Foster picked up his pistol they waited a few moments, looking eagerly in front.

A trickle of water fell from a crack in the roof and running down the floor of the adit vanished into the gloom.  Here and there a ragged projection caught the light, but the rest of the tunnel was hidden in impenetrable darkness.  They went on cautiously, though Foster now felt anxious because there was no sign of Daly.  After a minute or two, the light fell on a wall of dry rock with a pool at the bottom, and he knew they had reached the end of the adit.  Next moment he saw there was an opening to one side where some ore had been taken out.  If Daly was in the mine, he was there, and warning Pete with a sign, he turned the comer.

The light showed a small, dry chamber, strewn with sharp stones, some of which had been put together to make a hearth.  Between these lay the ashes of a fire; bits of food were scattered about, and a blue Hudson’s Bay blanket lay in a corner.  Except for this, the chamber was empty.  Foster savagely clenched his fist while Pete stirred the ashes and felt the blanket.

“It’s dry an’ the reek o’ a cigar is fresh on it,” he said.  “Yon fire’s no’ been oot lang.  I’m thinking it’s a pity we didna’ come last night.”

Foster sat down and looked about.  He was getting calm, but felt dull with disappointment.  For all that, he saw why the mine had been abandoned.  There was a fault in the strata, where the vein had slipped down, but the subsidence had cracked the rock above and he imagined that the fissure reached the surface.  The air was fresh and not very cold; there was water close by, and Foster saw no reason why Daly should not have found the chamber a comfortable hiding-place.  Yet he had left it.

“Can you see the basket you talked about?” he asked, giving Pete the lamp.

Pete found it behind some stones and they examined it together.

“Here’s the spirit-stove, some bread, and the can of meat,” said Foster.  “But I see no biscuits.  Can he have eaten them?”

“There were ower mony.  He’s ta’en them with him.”