there's no copper in the district; as I know all too well,
to my sorrow. I've lost twenty thousand dollars on better ground than
yours and ordered the whole camp closed down--that shows how much I want
_your_ mine."

He started his engine and glided on to the warehouse and Denver stood
staring down the road. Then he raised his sample, tied up in his
handkerchief, and slammed it into the dirt. His mine was valueless
unless he had money, and Murray had abandoned the district. More than
ever Denver realized how much it had meant to him, merely to have that
diamond drilling running and a big man like Murray behind it. It was
indicative of big values and great expectations; but now, with Murray
out of the running, the district was absolutely dead. There was no
longer the chance of a big copper strike, such as had been rumored
repeatedly for weeks, to bring on a stampede and make every claim in the
district worth thousands of dollars as a gamble.

No, Pinal was dead; the Silver Treasure was worthless; and he, Denver
Russell, was broke. He had barely the price of a square meal. He started
up-town, and turned back towards the warehouse where Murray was
wrangling with his hireling; then, cursing with helpless rage, he swung
off down the railroad track and left his broken dreams behind him.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE HAND OF FATE

The swift hand of fate, which had hurled Denver from the heights into
the depths of dark despair, suddenly snatched him up out of the abyss
again and whisked him back to Globe. When he walked out of Moroni his
mind was a blank, so overcome was his body with heat and toil and the
astounding turns of his fortune; but at the next station below, as he
was trying to steal a ride, a man had dropped off the train and dragged
him, willy nilly, into his Pullman. It was a mining superintendent who
had seen him in action when he was timbering the Last Chance stope, and
in spite of his protests he paid his fare to Globe and put him to work
down a shaft.

At the bottom of this shaft was millions of dollars worth of copper and
level after level of expensive workings; and some great stirring of the
earth was cutting it off, crushing the bottle off at the neck. Every
night, every shift, the swelling ground moved in, breaking stulls and
square-sets like tooth-picks; and now with solid steel and quick-setting
concrete they were fighting for the life of the mine. It was a dangerous
job, such as few men cared to t