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With that Dunke turned on his heel and was gone. But his contempt

for the ruffian he had cowed was too fearless. He would have

thought so if he could have known of the shadow that dogged his

heels through the tunnel, if he could have seen the bare fangs

that had gained Struve his name of "Wolf," if he could have

caught the flash of the knife that trembled in the eager hand. He

did not know that, as he shot up in the cage to the sunlight, the

other was filling the tunnel with imprecations and wild threats,

that he was hugging himself with the promise of a revenge that

should be sure and final.

Dunke went about the task of making the necessary arrangements

personally. He had his surrey packed with food, and about eleven

o'clock drove up to the mine and was lowered to the ninth level.

An hour later he stepped out of the cage with a prisoner whom he

kept covered with a revolver.