di, he
hurried to the courthouse and the various technicalities which must be
coped with before he could really call the Blue Poppy mine his own.

It was easier than he thought. A few signatures, and he was free to
wander through town to where idlers had pointed out Kentucky gulch and
to begin the steep ascent up the narrow road on a tour of prospecting
that would precede the more legal and more safe system of a surveyor.

The ascent was almost sheer in places, for in Kentucky gulch the hills
huddled close to the little town and rose in precipitous inclines
almost before the city limits had been reached. Beside the road a
small stream chattered, milk-white from the silica deposits of the
mines, like the waters of Clear Creek, which it was hastening to join.
Along the gullies were the scars of prospect holes, staring like dark,
blind eyes out upon the gorge;--reminders of the lost hopes of a day
gone by. Here and there lay some discarded piece of mining machinery,
rust-eaten and battered now, washed down inch by inch from the higher
hill where it had been abandoned when the demonetization of silver
struck, like a rapier, into the hearts of grubbing men, years before.
It was a canon of decay, yet of life, for as he trudged along, the roar
of great motors came to Fairchild's ears; and a moment later he stepped
aside to allow the passage of ore-laden automobile trucks, loaded until
the springs had flattened and until the engines howled with their
compression as they sought to hold back their burdens on the steep
grade. And it was as he stood there, watching the big vehicles travel
down the mountain side, that Fairchild caught a glimpse of a human
figure which suddenly darted behind a clump of scrub pine and skirted
far to one side, taking advantage of every covering. A new beat came
into Fairchild's heart. He took to the road again, plodding upward
apparently without a thought of his pursuer, stopping to stare at the
bleak prospect holes, or to admire the pink-white beauties of the snowy
range in the far distance, seemingly a man entirely bereft of
suspicion. A quarter of a mile he went, a half. Once, as the road
turned beside a great rock, he sought its shelter and looked back. The
figure still was following, running carefully now along the bank of the
stream in an effort to gain as much ground as possible before the
return of the road to open territory should bring the necessity of
caution again.

A mile more,