tol' _me_--an' why, _I_ wouldn't ever say nothin' an' he knew it--I
doctrrrred his eyes, mind ye, mind ye, an' the doctrrrs they couldn't
do nothin'--an' we was with this outfit that was puttin' in a bridge"
(only he couldn't say bridge to save his life) "this was 'way back in
Minnesota--"

"A-ah, now ye come back to Minnesota, ye better quit yer travelin' an'
eat yer dinner," quelled Murphy impatiently. "An' le's hear no more
'bout it."

Mike laid a strip of scorched bacon upon a chunk of scorched bannock
and bit down through the mass, chewed meditatively and stared into the
coals of his camp fire. "If they ain't diggin' fer gold, then what are
they _diggin'_ fer?" he demanded aggressively, and so suddenly that
Murphy started.

"A-ah, now, I'll tell ye what they're diggin' fer, but it's a secret,
mind ye, and ye must nivver spheak a word av it. They're diggin' fer
anguintum, me boy. An' thot's wort' more than gold, an' the likes av
me 'n you wadden't know if we was to wade through it, but it's used in
the war, I dunno, t' make gas-bags t' kill the inimy, and ye're t' say
nawthin' t' nobody er they'll likely take an' hang ye fer a spy on the
government, but ye're sa-afe, Mike, s' long as ye sthick t' me an' yer
job an' say nawthin' t' nobody, d' ye see."

"They'd nivver hang _me_ fer a spy," Mike gobbled excitedly. "They'll
nivver hang me--why I knowed--"

"A-ah, av yer ivver did ye've fergot it intirely," Murphy squelched
him pitilessly.

Mike gulped down a mouthful and took a swallow of muddy coffee. "They
better look out how they come around _me_," he threatened vaguely.
"They can't take me for a spy. I'd git the lawyers after 'em, an' I'd
make 'em trouble. They wanta look out--I'd spend ivvery cent I make
on lawyers an' courts if they took and hung me fer a spy. I'd _lawsue_
'em!"

Murphy laughed. "A-ah, would ye, now!" he cried admiringly. "My gorry,
it takes a brain like yours t' think av things. Now, av they hung me,
I'd be likes to let 'er sthand thot way. I'd nivver a thought t'
lawsue 'em fer it--I wad not!"

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A CAVE DWELLER JACK WOULD BE

Smoke-tinged sunlight and warm winds and languorous days held for
another full month in the mountains. Then the pines complained all
through one night, and in the morning they roared like the rush of
breakers in a storm, and sent dead branches crashing down, and sifted
brown needles thick upon the earth below.

"A-ah, but she's goin'