re their safety. To such as he the
stealing of a mine was a mere incident.

This was the situation confronting Westcott as he crouched behind a
rock on the black hillside, endeavouring to decide upon a course of
action. The events of the last few hours had almost entirely forced
aside memory of the girl at the hotel--and her mission. He was
fighting now for his own life, his own future--and fighting alone. The
blade of Moore's knife had slashed his forearm, in the early moments of
their fierce struggle, and blood was trickling down his wrist, yet not
in sufficient quantity to give him any great concern. Once beyond the
probability of pursuit, he turned up his sleeve and made some effort to
minister to the gash, satisfying himself quickly that it was of trivial
nature.

From where he lay he could see across the bare, rock-strewn hillside to
the distant hut, outlined by the gleam of light within, and perceive
the black silhouette of the shaft-house. The sound of clanking
machinery reached his ears, but the voices of the men failed to carry
so far. He could dimly distinguish their figures as they passed in and
out of the glare of light, and was aware that Moore had been found and
carried within the hut, but remained ignorant of the fact that the
leaving of a knife in the window had revealed his identity. There was
no attempt at pursuit, which gave him confidence that Lacy failed to
comprehend the importance of what had been overheard, yet he clung
closely to his hiding-place until all the men had re-entered the office.

However, he was too wary to approach the window again, fearing some
trap, but crept cautiously along the slope of the hill through the
black shadows until he attained safe shelter close in against the dump.
His hope was that Enright's arguments would induce Lacy to discontinue
operations for the present and thus give him time in which to prepare
for resistance. In this he was not disappointed. What took place
within the office could only be guessed at, but in less than half an
hour a man emerged from the open door and hailed the fellows at work in
the shaft-house. The messenger stood in the full glare of light,
revealing to the silent watcher the face and figure of Moore,
convincing evidence that this worthy had not been seriously injured
during the late encounter.

"Hey, Tom!" he shouted.

The lantern above was waved out over the edge of the timbered platform
and a deep voice responded.