"

"No; why do you ask?"

"Because you are a thousand feet higher than at Marshall Pass, and here
we are three thousand feet below the mine. You would not only have the
fear of falling off from the world up there, but the danger of it as
well."

Miss Hartwell looked from the office window to the great cliff that rose
high above its steep, sloped talus.

"I told Arthur that I was going to see everything and climb everything
out here, but I will think about it first."

"I would suggest your seeing about it first. Perhaps that will be
enough."

Hartwell bustled into the room with a preoccupied air. "Sorry to have
kept you waiting so long."

Miss Hartwell followed her brother from the room and up the stairs.

"Make yourself as comfortable as you can, Beatrice. I gave you full
warning as to what you might expect out here. You will have to look out
for yourself now. I shall be very busy; I can see that with half an
eye."

"I think if Mr. Firmstone is one half as efficient as he is agreeable
you are borrowing trouble on a very small margin." Miss Hartwell spoke
with decided emphasis.

"Smooth speech and agreeable manners go farther with women than they do
in business," Hartwell snapped out.

"I hope you have a good business equipment to console yourself with."

Hartwell made no reply to his sister, but busied himself unstrapping her
trunk.

"Dress for supper as soon as you can. You have an hour," he added,
looking at his watch.

Hartwell did not find Firmstone on re-entering the office. He seated
himself at the desk and began looking over files of reports of mine and
mill. Their order and completeness should have pleased him, but, from
the frown on his face, they evidently did not.

Firmstone, meanwhile, had gone to the cook-house to warn Bennie of his
coming guests, and to advise the garnishing of the table with the
whitest linen and the choicest viands which his stores could afford.

"What sort of a crowd are they?" Bennie inquired.

"You'll be able to answer your own question in a little while. That will
save you the trouble of changing your mind."

"'Tis no trouble at all, sir! It's a damned poor lobster that doesn't
know what to do when his shell pinches!"

Firmstone, laughing, went to the mill for a tour of inspection before
the supper hour. Entering the office a little later, he found Hartwell
at his desk.

"Well," he asked, "how do you find things?"

Hartwell's eyes were intrenched in a ser