."

"All right then; I'm hungry and have a bit of work ahead. Put it on
the table here, and sit down yourself, Jose."

The Mexican did as ordered, glancing across at the other between each
mouthful of food, as though not exactly at ease. Westcott ate
heartily, without pausing to talk.

"You hear yet Senor Cavendish?" Jose asked at last.

"No." Westcott hesitated an instant, but decided not to explain
further. "He must be away, I think."

"What you do if you no hear at all?"

"We'll go on with the digging ourselves, Jose. It'll pay wages until I
can interest capital somewhere to come in on shares."

"You no sell Lacy then?"

"Sell Lacy! Not in a thousand years. What put that in your head?"

The Mexican rubbed the back of his pate.

"You know Senor Moore--no hair so?" an expressive gesture.

"Sure; what about him?"

"He meet me at the spring; he come up the trail from Haskell on
horseback with another man not belong 'round here."

"What did he look like--big, red-faced fellow, with checked suit and
round hat?"

"_Si, senor_; he say to Moore, 'Why the hell you talk that damn
greaser,' an' Moore laugh, an' say because I work for Senor Westcott."

"But what was it Moore said to you, Jose?"

"He cussed me first, an' when I wouldn't move, he swore that Lacy would
own this whole hill before thirty days."

"Was that all? Didn't the other fellow say anything?"

"No, _senor_; but he swung his horse against me as they went by--he
mighty poor rider."

"No doubt; that is not one of the amusements of the Bowery. Where did
they go? Up to La Rosita?"

"_Si, senor_; I watched, they were there two hour."

Westcott stared into the fireplace; then the gravity of his face
relaxed into a smile.

"Things are growing interesting, Jose," he said cheerfully. "If I only
knew just which way the cat was about to jump I'd be somewhat happier.
There seemed to be more light than usual across the gulch as I came
up--what's going on?"

"They have put on more men, _senor_--a night shift. Last night I went
in our drift clear to the end, and put my ear to the rock. It was far
away, but I hear."

"No, no, Jose; that's impossible. Why, their tunnel as over a hundred
yards away; not even the sound of dynamite would penetrate that
distance through solid rock. You heard your heart beat."

"No, _senor_," and Jose was upon his feet gesticulating. "It was the
pick--strike, strike, strike; then stop an' begin, strike,