should she have gone through this procedure to reach him? Why
had she not gone to Farrell with the proposition--to a man whom she
knew Fairchild trusted, instead of to a greasy, hand rubbing shyster?
And besides--

But the question was past answering now. Fairchild had made his
decision, and he had told the lawyer where to go. If, at the same
time, he had relegated the woman who had awakened affection in his
heart, only to have circumstances do their best to stamp it out again,
to the same place,--well, that had been done, too, and there was no
recalling of it now. But one thing was certain: the Blue Poppy mine
was worth money. Somewhere in that beetling hill awaited wealth, and
if determination counted for anything, if force of will and force of
muscle were worth only a part of their accepted value, Fairchild meant
to find it. Once before an offer had come, and now that he thought of
it, Fairchild felt almost certain that it had been from the same
source. That was for fifty thousand dollars. Why should the value
have now jumped to four times its original figures? It was more than
the adventurer could encompass; he sought to dismiss it all, went to a
picture show, then trudged back to his hotel and to sleep.

The next day found him still striving to put the problem away from him
as he went about the various errands outlined by Harry. A day after
that, then the puffing, snorting, narrow-gauged train took him again
through Clear Creek canon and back to Ohadi. The station was strangely
deserted.

None of the usual loungers were there. None of the loiterers who,
watch in hand, awaited the arrival and departure of the puffing train
as though it were a matter of personal concern. Only the bawling 'bus
man for the hotel, the station agent wrestling with a trunk or
two,--that was all. Fairchild looked about him in surprise, then
approached the agent.

"What's happened? Where 's everybody?"

"Up on the hill."

"Something happened?"

"A lot. From what I hear it's a strike that's going to put Ohadi on
the map again."

"Who made it?"

"Don't know. Some fellow came running down here an hour or so ago and
said there 'd been a tremendous strike made on the hill, and everybody
beat it up there."

Fairchild went on, to turn into a deserted street,--a street where the
doors of the stores had been left open and the owners gone. Everywhere
it was the same; it was as if Ohadi suddenly had been struck by some