-box and slung everything gnawable up in the
branches out of reach of the sly thieves.

At sunrise the two started out on their day's work, Ashton carrying
his rifle and canteen and the level rod, Blake with the level and a
bag containing their lunch and a two-quart sirup-can of water.

"We'll run a new line from the dike bench, around the hill and across
the valley the way we rode out yesterday," said the engineer, as they
climbed the slope above the waterhole. "That will give us a check by
cross-tying to the line of the creek levels where it runs into the
gulch."

"Can't you trust to the accuracy of your own work?" asked Ashton with
evident intent to mortify.

Blake smiled in his good-natured way. "You forget the first rule of
engineering. Always check when you can, then re-check and check
again.--Now, if you'll kindly give me a reading off that bench."

Ashton complied, though with evident ill will. He had wakened in good
spirits, but was fast returning to his sullenness of the previous day.
He took his time in going from the bench-mark to the first turning
point. Blake moved up past him with inspiring briskness, but the
younger man kept to his leisurely saunter. In rounding the corner of
the hill twice as much time was consumed as was necessary.

When they came to the last turn at the foot of the rocky slope, where
the line struck out across the valley towards the foot of the mountain
side, Ashton paused to roll a cigarette before holding his rod for the
reading. Small as was the incident, it was particularly aggravating to
an engineer. The reading would have taken only a moment, and he could
then have rolled his cigarette and smoked it while Blake was moving
past him for the next "set up." Instead, he deliberately kept Blake
waiting until the cigarette had been rolled and lighted.

Blake "pulled up" his level and started forward, his face impassive.
Ashton leaned jauntily on the rod, sucked in a mouthful of smoke, and
raising his cigarette, flicked the ash from the tip with his little
finger. At the same instant a bullet from the crags above him pierced
the crown of his hat. He pitched forward on his face, rolled half
over, and lay quiet.

Most men would have been dumfounded by the frightful suddenness of the
occurrence--the shot and the instant fall of Ashton. It was like a
stroke of lightning out of a clear sky. Blake did not stand gaping
even for a moment. As Ashton's senseless body struck the ground, h