ills, when I was a
small boy."

The miner's face went suddenly white. His eyes partially closed and his
hands shook, as he muttered something about, "Just as I thought," then
continued, "Well, I--" He changed his mind, and, turning to his woodpile,
chopped vigorously for some moments. When he spoke again Mr. Allen
noticed that his voice was husky and that he was scrutinizing Willis with
special care.

"I can't tell you to whom all these holes belong, but some of them I
know. That one over there was located by Old Ben at Bruin Inn. That one
with a dump of black rock," pointing up the opposite side of the canyon,
"belongs to a real estate firm in Colorado Springs--Williams and
somebody." He never took his eyes from the boy's face as he spoke.

"Williams, why--why, my Uncle, Williams, is a real estate man, but I
didn't know that he--"

The miner, still eyeing the boy carefully, interrupted him by adding,
"And the hole directly to one side, and on the same property, belonged to
a young engineer, and was located many years ago. The Williams shaft has
been sunk in the last few years. That hole has the very best prospects of
being something of any on the mountain. The Williams outfit restaked the
claim because the assessment work had not been kept up by the original
owner."

"What was the original owner's name? Do you know? You say he was a young
engineer?"

"Yes, his name was Thornton." The man dropped his head and worked the
heel of his boot nervously in the dirt. "I used to know him quite well,
years ago." Then he added, in a slow, hesitating tone, "I haven't seen
anything of him for nearly a dozen years."

The corners of Willis's mouth twitched nervously. He tried to speak, but
couldn't. He came a couple of paces nearer to the miner, stopped, picked
up a slender twig, and began to whittle it thoughtfully.

"Would you mind telling me all about him--all you know?" asked Willis.
The miner looked at him curiously a minute, then asked, in a quiet,
well-controlled voice, "Did you know the man, lad?"

"Not so well as I would like to have known him, sir; but perhaps I may
get better acquainted with him now. He was my father, but I hardly
remember him, except for the stories and pictures that mother has told me
about. I've always wanted to know more about him."

"I can't tell you much, my boy," returned the miner in a kind, friendly
voice, "only that he was the best man that ever set a hoisting plant in
this region, an