ates goes jerking around the four cardinal points and feeling of
what's between, it's just responding to the fore-running snorts of a
pull-up and come-along cyclone. That's why I'm bobbing up and down like
an ant looking for its long-lost brother. There's a cyclone on its way,
Goggles, and it's going to light hereabouts right soon."

"I guess you're right, Zephyr." Firmstone gathered his reins,
preparatory to resuming his way, but Zephyr laid a detaining hand on the
horse's neck.

It was not in Zephyr to make haste easily. His undulating shoulders
indicated a necessity for immediate speech. The words, sizzling from
between closed lips, were a compromise.

"You have more sense than many weather-cocks, and more sand than a
gravel train." Zephyr's face began to twitch. "Wait!" The word came
forth explosively; the detaining hand grasped the bridle firmly. "Say,
Goggles, I was dead wrong. Do you hear? About Elise. You remember? At
the Devil's Elbow. She ain't Pierre's girl. She's as much of a lady as
you are. Keep still! Listen! A hurricane ain't got sense. It'll pull up
a weed as quick as an oak. It's coming. For the love of God and me
especially, if I get pulled, look out for her! Say yes, and go along.
Don't fool with me! You'll swallow a barrel of water to get a drink of
whisky."

Firmstone only stretched out his hand. Zephyr took it for an instant,
then flung it aside. The next moment he was striding down the trail.
Firmstone heard the strain of the jarring reeds of the harmonica shrill
triumphantly, penetrated now and then by louder notes as a plunging step
jarred a stronger breath through his lips.

At the mine, Firmstone found his work cut out for him. On the narrow
platform of the mine boarding-house, the foreman was standing with his
cap shoved far back on his head, his hands in his pockets. There was an
insolent poise to the head that only intensified the sneering smile on
the lips. He was surrounded by a dozen or more of the men whom Firmstone
had marked as makers of trouble.

"Well, what in hell you up here for? Think I can't run a mine?" The
foreman called into play every expression of coarse contempt at his
command.

"Not this one for me. Go into the office, and I'll make out your time."

The foreman did not move.

Firmstone made no threatening gesture as he advanced. The foreman's eyes
wavered, cast behind him at the gaping men, then he turned as Firmstone
ordered.

In the office Firmstone wrote