At last, with the coming of night, he turned toward the boarding house, and on his arrival.

Mother Howard, sighting his white face, hurried to him.
"Have you seen Harry ?" he asked.
"No--he has n't been here." It was the last chance.

Clutching fear at his heart, he told Mother Howard of the happenings at the mine, quickly, as plainly as possible.
Then once more he went forth, to retrace his steps to the Blue Poppy, to buck the wind and the fine snow and the high, piled drifts, and to go below.

But the surroundings were the same: still the cave-in, with its small hole where he had torn through it, still the ragged hanging wall where Harry had fired the last shots of dynamite in his investigations, still the trampled bit of fuse with its cap attached.
Nothing more.

Gingerly Fairchild picked up the cap and placed it where a chance kick could not explode it.