"Sure did."

Mormon set down his load and took off his hat to scratch his head
perplexedly. Then his face lightened as he looked up-hill.

"You figger on settin' the lantern in here afteh dahk," he said. "An'
watchin' the fun from the tunnel."

"Pritty close, Mormon. Come inside, you an' Westlake, an' I'll show you
suthin'."

They followed him into the tent and came out again laughing.

"No matteh what happens," said Sandy, "an' I'm hopin' fo' the worst, it
ain't our tent. You been up to the main street this afternoon,
Westlake?"

"Yes. There's a lot of talk loose about the trouble between you and
Plimsoll's crowd. Factions for both sides and a lot of onlookers who are
neutral and just waiting for the excitement. I saw Roaring Russell but
he passed me up. He might not have known me. He was pretty well drunk.
He's talking big about taking you apart, Mr. Peters. He claims to have
been a champion wrestler at one time."

"You don't say so," said Mormon. "Me, I was the champeen wrastler of the
Cow Belt, one time. Had the belt to prove it till I lost it at draw
poker. I've got hawg fat sence then, but I don't believe I've softened
any. An' the booze he's tuckin' away is mighty pore stuff fo' trainin'.
But I ain't long on walkin'," he added. "B'lieve I'll sit me down a
spell. I'll make fire an' git supper if you want to take Westlake up to
the tunnel."

Westlake carefully inspected the tunnel, the float and the contents of
the dump.

"I wouldn't wonder if Casey was running this as a drift to follow a good
lead," he pronounced. "It looks better to me than any part of the camp
I've inspected. I'll assay these samples for you, if you've no
objection. I've got a lot of orders back at my shack already. My
customers told me that they'd put a flea in Russell's ear that the camp
assayer was not to be interfered with, so there is some value in an
education, you see."

Sandy nodded. "You pack a gun?" he asked.

"No. I've got one, but I don't carry it. My practise with firearms has
been with larger calibers."

"War?" asked Sandy.

"Yes. I was in the artillery. Is there anything else I can do? Get you
some supplies? I'm coming back to have supper with Miss Bailey and her
nephew."

"Not a thing," said Sandy. "Much obliged." He watched the engineer swing
away.

"There's a good man for you," he said to Sam. "Well set up and able to
handle himself. I like his ways first-rate."

"Me, too," said Sam. "He'd make a good