with you she may, but we'll leave it at that."

He turned away, and, strolling into his own room, he took out the card
model of the excavator bucket which Weston had altered, and examined
it critically.

"Yes," he said, "it will do its work. I guess that's characteristic of
the man."

CHAPTER XXVI

THE JUMPERS

Saunders, the storekeeper, lay outside the little tent, with the
pungent pine-wood smoke drifting past him and his feet toward the
fire, while dusk crept up the range and a wonderful stillness settled
down upon the lonely valley. His hands were badly blistered, and he
was aching in every limb, while some of his knuckles had the flesh
torn off them, for Devine had brought a heavy hammer down on them
several times that day instead of on the drill. For all that, he lay
beside the fire in the drowsy state of physical content which is not
infrequently experienced by those who have just enjoyed an ample meal
after a long day of strenuous labor in the open air. However, as
Saunders had reasons for believing that the result of the latter would
in due time prove to be eminently satisfactory, the sensation was in
his case perhaps a little more pronounced than usual.

He was not more than healthfully weary, and there was an exhilarating
quality in the sweet, cool air, which was heavy with the smell of the
firs, while the wonderful green transparency generally to be seen
after sunset among the mountains of that land still glimmered behind
the peaks on one side of the valley. The rest of the hollow was
wrapped in creeping shadow against which the nearest pines stood out
in dusky ranks. Saunders raised himself on one elbow and gazed at them
reflectively before he turned to Devine, who was sitting near him.
They had been hard at work on the mineral claims of the Grenfell
Consolidated for the last few days.

"This camping in the woods would be quite nice if one could prowl
round with the rifle instead of pounding the drill," he said, and then
paused to glance ruefully at one of his battered hands. "Anyway, I
don't know that I shouldn't just as soon do that as to hold it."

"Sorry," said Devine. "Still, you've done some shooting. We brought up
a box of cartridges and now we haven't one. What you want is a
single-shot rifle, or a deer that will stand still."

Saunders turned and pointed to the dismembered carcass that hung from
a fir branch close at hand.

"I got that one on the run, and there was a time when