ethods; of his hope of being admitted at no distant day into
partnership with his uncle and becoming a shareholder in the wonderful
Bird Mine.

"But that isn't all I am looking forward to," he said, in conclusion,
his boyish tones growing strangely deep and tender. "My fondest hope of
all I hardly dare admit even to myself, and I don't know why I am
speaking of it to you, except that I already like you and trust you as I
never did any other man; but you will understand what I mean when you
see my cousin, Kate Underwood."

He paused, but his silence was more eloquent to Darrell than words; the
latter grasped his hand warmly in token that he understood.

"I wish you all that you hope for," he said.

A few moments later Whitcomb spoke with his usual impetuosity. "What am
I thinking of, keeping you up in this way when you are sick and dead
tired! You had better turn in and get all the rest you can, and when we
reach Ophir to-morrow, just remember, my dear fellow, that no hotels
'go.' You'll go directly home with me, where you'll find yourself in
such good hands you'll think sure you're in your own home, and we'll
soon have you all right."

For hours Darrell tossed wearily, unable to sleep. His head throbbed
wildly, the racking pain throughout his frame increased, while a raging
fire seemed creeping through his veins. Not until long past midnight did
he fall into a fitful sleep. Strange fancies surged through his fevered
brain, torturing him with their endless repetition, their seeming
reality. Suddenly he awoke, bewildered, exhausted, oppressed by a vague
sense of impending evil.

_Chapter II_

A NIGHT'S WORK

For a few seconds Darrell tried vainly to recall what had awakened him.
Low, confused sounds occasionally reached his ears, but they seemed part
of his own troubled dreams. The heat was intolerable; he raised himself
to the open window that he might get a breath of cooler air; his head
whirled, but the half-sitting posture seemed to clear his brain, and he
recalled his surroundings. At once he became conscious that the train
was not in motion, yet no sound of trainmen's voices came through the
open window; all was dead silence, and the vague, haunting sense of
impending danger quickened.

Suddenly he heard a muttered oath in one of the sections, followed by an
order, low, but peremptory,--

"No noise! Hand over, and be quick about it!"

Instantly Darrell comprehended the situation. Peering cautio