e extension."

She looked up quickly.

"Would you do that for Uncle Sidney? He hasn't been very lenient with
you, has he?"

Ford ignored the query.

"He is your uncle, Miss Alicia; and I'd do it for your sake or not at
all."

They had reached the steps of the private car, and Frisbie was waiting
with evident impatience for a word with Ford. Miss Adair's eyes signaled
emotion, and Ford thought it was resentment. But her parting word was
not resentful; it was merely a repetition.

"Go to Mr. Frisbie," she said from the car step; "he is waiting for
you." And then: "Remember; whatever happens, _you must not resign_--not
even if Uncle Sidney asks you to."

Frisbie's information, given after Miss Adair had gone in, was rather
mystifying. Young Benson, who was just in from the grade work beyond
Copah, brought word of a party of strange engineers running lines on the
opposite side of the river from the rejected S. L & W. short-cut through
the canyon of shale slides. Questioned by Benson, they had told what
Frisbie believed to be a fairy tale. The chief of the party claimed to
be the newly-elected county surveyor from Copah, running the lines for
some mining property recently filed for entry. Benson had not been over
curious; but he was observant enough to note that the tale was a misfit
in three important particulars. He saw no locating stakes, such as a
prospector always sets up conspicuously to mark his claim; and there
were no signs of the precious metal, and no holes to indicate an attempt
to find it.

"What's your guess, Dick?" said Ford tersely.

The assistant shook his head.

"I haven't any coming to me. But I don't like mysteries."

"Where was this party?"

"About a mile and a half below here. It was going out toward Copah when
Jack met it--its work, whatever it was, all done, apparently."

It was one of Frisbie's gifts to be suspicious; but Ford was lacking on
that side.

"It's barely possible that the man was telling the truth, in spite of
Benson's failure to find any prospect holes," he remarked. "We'll let it
go at that until we know something different. It couldn't be a
Transcontinental party, this far from home, and we haven't anybody else
to fear."

Frisbie dropped the subject as one of the abstractions and took up the
concrete.

"What are the orders for to-day?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'm waiting for Mr. Colbrith to say."

"There are two buckboard teams here, in the MacMorrogh stables