her unfinished question
leading them on to state their mission.

"Men. Here's a list," Dick answered, handing her a memorandum calling
for go many millmen, so many drill runners, swampers, car handlers,
and so forth; in all, a list of twenty odd.

"Who told you to come here?" She exploded the question as if it were
vital.

"Park. Bells Park."

She laughed mirthlessly between lips that did not smile and regular,
white teeth. But her laugh belied her lack of sympathy.

"Poor old Bells!" she said, with a touch of sadness in her voice.
"Poor old fool! I tried to keep him from gambling when he had money,
and he went broke, like all the other fools. But he loved his wife. He
made her happy. Some one in this world must be happy. So he came back,
did he? And is up there at the Cross? Well, he's a faithful man. I'm
not an employment agency, but maybe I can help you. I would do it for
Bells. I like him. Good men are scarce. The bums and loafers are
always easy to get. There isn't a mine around here that isn't looking
for good men, since they made that discovery over in the flat. Most of
them broke to the placer ground. Wages are nothing when there's a
chance for better."

She had not looked at Dick as she talked, but had her eyes fixed on
the paper, though not seeming to scan its contents. The room was
crowded with men and filled with a confused volume of sound as she
spoke, the click and whir of the wheel, the monotonous voice of the
student--turned gambler--calling "Single O and the house wins. All
down?" the sharp snap of the case-keeper's buttons before the faro
layouts, the screech of the orchestra in the dance hall, and the heavy
shuffling of feet; yet her words and intonations were distinct.

"We would like to get them as soon as we can," Dick answered. "We have
unwatered the main shaft and----"

From the dance hall in the rear there came a shrill, high shriek,
oaths, shouts, and the orchestra stopped playing. Men jumped to their
feet from the faro layouts, and then, mob-like, began to surge toward
the door, while in the lead, uttering scream on scream, ran one of
the dance-hall girls with her gaudy dress bursting into enveloping
flame. She had the terror of a panic-stricken animal flying into the
danger of the open air to die.

As if springing forward from live ground, Mathews leaped into her
path, and caught her in his arms. He jammed her forward ahead of him,
taking no pains to shield her body save with his