“Th-th-this l-l-lady wants ter s-s-see how we m-m-mine,” he explained in painful embarrassment, “a-an’ I th-th-thought I ’d t-take her d-d-down if you ’d w-work the w-w-windlass a b-bit.”

Old Mike turned slowly around and fronted the two, his screwed-up eyes on the girl, while with great deliberation he drew a match along the leg of his canvas trousers.

“Onything to oblige ye,” he said gruffly.  “Always ready to hilp the ladies—­be me sowl, Oi’ve married three of thim already.  An’ wus this Hicks’s orthers, Stutter?”

“N-n-no, not exactly,” Brown admitted, with evident reluctance.  “B-but ye s-s-see, she’s a g-great friend o’ B-B-Bill’s, an’ so I reckon it ’ll be all r-right.  Don’t s-see how n-no harm kin be d-d-done.”

The pessimistic Michael slowly blew a cloud of pungent smoke into the air, sucking hard at his pipe-stem, and laid his rough hands on the windlass handle.

“None o’ my dommed funeral, beggin’ yer pardon, miss,” he condescended to mutter in slight apology.  “Long as the pay goes on, Oi ’d jist as soon work on top as down below.  H’ist the female into the bucket, ye overgrown dood!”

Stutter Brown, still nervous from recurring doubts, awkwardly assisted his vivacious charge to attain safe footing, anxiously bade her hold firmly to the swaying rope, and stood, carefully steadying the line as it slowly disappeared, hypnotized still by those marvellous black eyes, which continued to peer up at him until they vanished within the darkness.  Leaning far over to listen, the young miner heard the bucket touch bottom, and then, with a quick word of warning to the man grasping the handle, he swung himself out on the taut rope, and went swiftly down, hand over hand.  Mike, still grumbling huskily to himself, waited until the windlass ceased vibrating, securely anchored the handle with a strip of raw-hide, and composedly sat down, his teeth set firmly on the pipe-stem, his eyes already half closed.  It was an obstinate, mulish old face, seamed and creased, the bright sunlight rendering more manifest the leather-like skin, the marvellous network of wrinkles about eyes and mouth.  Not being paid for thought, the old fellow now contented himself with dozing, quite confident of not being quickly disturbed.

In this he was right.  The two were below for fully an hour, while above them Mike leaned with back comfortably propped against the windlass in perfect contentment, and the hobbled pony peacefully cropped the short grass along the ledge.  Then the brooding silence was abruptly broken by a voice rising from out the depths of the shaft, while a vigorous shaking of the dangling rope caused the windlass to vibrate sharply.  Old Mike, with great deliberation stowing away his pipe, unslipped the raw-hide, and, calmly indifferent to all else except his necessary labor, slowly hauled the girl to the surface.  She was radiant, her eyes glowing from the excitement of unusual adventure, and scrambled forth from the dangling bucket without awaiting assistance.  Before Brown attained to the surface, the lady had safely captured the straying pony and swung herself lightly into the saddle.  Squaring his broad shoulders with surprise as he came out, his face flushed, his lips set firm, the young giant laid restraining fingers on her gloved hand.