. The company would still be in
ignorance of the possibilities of the mine. Firmstone arranged every
possible detail clearly in his mind, from Pierre's standpoint. His
thorough grasp of the entire situation, his unwearying application to
the business in hand made further stealing impossible. Pierre was bound
to get him out of his position. The agitation inaugurated by Morrison
was only a part of the scheme by means of which this result was to be
accomplished. A whole month's clean-up had been made. If this reached
the company safely, it would be a revelation to them. Firmstone's
position would be unassailable, and henceforth Pierre would be compelled
to content himself with the yield of the gambling and drinking at the
Blue Goose. Whether the bullion ever found its way to the Blue Goose or
not, the wrecking of the stage would be in all likelihood the
culminating disaster in Firmstone's undoing.

Firmstone's indignation did not burn so fiercely against Pierre and
Morrison--they were but venomous reptiles who threatened every decent
man--as at the querulous criticisms of his employers, which were a
perpetual drag, clogging his every movement, and threatening to
neutralise his every effort in their behalf. He recalled the words of an
old and successful mine manager:

"You've got a hard row of corn. When you tackle a mine you've got to
make up your mind to have everyone against you, from the cook-house
flunkey to the president of the company, and the company is the hardest
crowd to buck against."

Firmstone's face grew hard. The fight was on, and he was in it to win.
That was what he was going to do.

Zephyr, meantime, had gone to the cook-house. He found Bennie in his
room.

"How's Jim?" he asked.

"Sleeping. That's good for him. He'll pull out all right. Get on to
anything at the bridge?" Bennie was at sharp attention.

"Nothing to get on to, Julius Benjamin. The bridge is gone. So's
everything else. It's only a matter of time when Goggles will be gone,
too. This last will fix him with the company." Zephyr glanced slyly at
Bennie with the last words. "The jig is up. The fiddle's broke its last
string, and I'm going, too."

Bennie's eyes were flaming.

"Take shame to yourself for those words, you white-livered frog-spawn,
with a speck in the middle for the black heart of you! You're going?
Well, here's the bones of my fist and the toe of my boot, to speed you!"

"You'll have to put me up some grub, Benjamin."