lowed along up the gulch.
The drill, which was concealed beneath the big, conical tent, was set up
in the very notch of the canyon, where it cut through the formation of
the rim-rock; and Denver was more than pleased to see that it was fairly
on top of the green quartzite. He kept on steadily, still looking for
the guard, his prospector's pick well in front; and, just down the trail
from the tented drill, he stopped and cracked a rock.

"Hey! Get off this ground!" shouted a voice from the tent and as Denver
looked up a man stepped out with a rifle in his hand. "What are you
doing around here?" he demanded angrily and, as Denver made no answer,
another man stepped out from behind. Then with a word to the guard he
came down the trail and Denver knew it was Murray himself.

He was a tall, bony man with a flowing black beard and, hunched up above
his shoulders, was the rounded hump which had given him the name of
"Bible-Back." To counterbalance this curvature his head was craned back,
giving him a bristling, aggressive air, and as he strode down towards
Denver his long, gorilla arms, extended almost down to his knees.

"What are you doing here, young man?" he challenged harshly, "don't you
know that this ground is closed?"

"Why, no," bluffed Denver, "you haven't got any signs out. What's all
the excitement about?"

Bible-Back Murray paused and looked him over, and his prospector's pick
and ore-sack, and a glint came into one eye. The other eye remained
fixed in a cold, rheumy stare, and Denver sensed that it was made of
glass.

"Who are you working for?" rasped Murray and as he raised his voice the
guard started down the dump.

"I'm not working for anybody," answered Denver boldly, "I'm out
prospecting along the edge of the rim."

"Oh--prospecting," said Murray suddenly moderating his voice; and then,
as the guard stood watching them narrowly, he gave way to a fatherly
smile. "Well, well," he exclaimed, "it's pretty hot for prospecting--you
can't see very well in this glare. Whereabouts have you made your camp?"

"Over on the crick," answered Denver. "What have you got here, anyway?
Is this that diamond drill?"

"Never mind, now!" put in the guard who, anticipating a call-down for
his negligence, was in a distinctly hostile mood, "you know danged well
it is!"

"Oh, I do, do I?" retorted Denver, "well, all right pardner, if you say
so; but you don't need to call me a liar!"

He returned the guard's glare with