had run up a big bill at the
store. Only occasional contributions from their miner sons in Nevada
kept them from facing actual want, and Campbell was engaged in packing
down his picked ore in order to make a small shipment. But if he figured
his own time in he was not making day's wages and the future held out no
hope.

Without a road the Homestake Mine was worthless, for it could never be
profitably worked; but Cole Campbell was like Eells in one respect at
least, and that was he never knew when he was whipped. A guarded
suggestion had come from Judson Eells that he might still be persuaded
to buy his mine, but Campbell would not even name a price; and now the
store-keeper had sent him notice that he had discounted his bill at the
bank. That was a polite way of saying that Eells had bought in the
account, which constituted a lien against the mine; and the Campbells
were vaguely worried lest Eells should try his well-known tactics and
suddenly deprive them of their treasure. For the Homestake Mine, in Cole
Campbell's eyes, was the greatest silver property in the West; and yet
even in this emergency, which threatened daily to become desperate, he
refused resolutely to accept tainted money. For not only was Wunpost's
money placed under the ban, but so much had been said of Judson Eells
and his sharp practises that his money was also barred.

This much Wunpost gathered on the first day of his home-coming, when,
still dazed by his welcome, he yet had the sense to look happy and say
almost nothing. He sat back in an easy chair with Wilhelmina at his side
and the Campbells hovering benevolently in the distance, and to all
attempts to draw him out he responded with a cryptic smile.

"Oh, we were so worried!" exclaimed Wilhelmina, looking up at him
anxiously, "because there was blood all over the saddle; and when the
trailers got to Wild Rose they found your pack-mule, and Good Luck with
the rope still fast about his neck. But they just couldn't find you
anywhere, and the tracks all disappeared; and when it became known that
Mr. Lynch was missing--oh, _do_ you think they killed him?"

"Search me," shrugged Wunpost. "I was too busy getting out of there to
do any worrying about Lynch. But I'll tell you one thing, about those
tracks disappearing--them Apaches must have smoothed 'em out, sure."

"Yes, but why should they kill _him_? Weren't they supposed to be
working for him? That's what Mr. Eells gave us to understand. But w