otion. Each turn flirted
some of the sand and water over the pan's beveled edge. Every little
while he renewed the water. At last the pan's contents were reduced to
a half dozen, irregular, dirty, little lumps and a handful of "black
sand" in which gleamed numbers of yellow particles.

Blake put the nuggets into his pocket and threw the rest out into the
pool. He returned to the tent and sat down to re-check his level-book
and his calculations on the approximate cost of the tunnel. Sundown
found him still figuring; but when twilight faded into dusk, he put
away his fieldbook and started a fire for supper.

He was in the act of setting on a pan of bacon when, without the
slightest warning, a bullet cut the knot of the loose neckerchief
under his downbent chin. In the same instant that he heard the ping of
the shot he pitched sideways and flattened himself on the ground with
the chuck-box between him and the fire. A roll and a quick crawl took
him into the underbrush beyond the circle of firelight. No second
bullet followed him in his amazingly swift movements. He lay
motionless, listening intently, but no sound broke the stillness of
the evening except the distant wail of a coyote and the hoot of an
owl.

Half an hour passed, and still the engineer waited. The dusk deepened
into darkness. At last a heavy footfall sounded up on the dike. Blake
rose, and slipping silently to the tent, groped about until he found a
heavy iron picket-pin.

Someone came down the slope and kicked his way petulantly through the
bushes to the dying fire. He threw on an armful of brush. The light of
the up-blazing flame showed Ashton standing beside the chuck-box,
rifle in hand. But he dropped the weapon to pick up the overturned
frying pan, which lay at his feet.

"Hello, Blake!" he sang out irritably. "I supposed you'd have supper
waiting. Haven't turned in this early, have you?"

"No," replied Blake, and he came forward, carelessly swinging the
picket-pin. "Thought I saw a coyote sneaking about, and tried to trick
him into coming close enough for me to nail him with this pin."

"With that!" scoffed Ashton. "But it would do as well as my rifle. I
took a shot at a wolf, and then the mechanism jammed. I can't get it
to work."

"You fired a shot?" asked Blake.

"Yes. Was it too far off for you to hear? I circled all around these
hills."

"No, I heard it," replied Blake, looking close into the other's sullen
face. "You may not have be