s ejaculation, his words and tone proclaimed the
fact that he was not in his seemingly unfailing good spirits. He was
standing with the two at the door of the drug shop and watching the
crowds of men gathered in groups along the main street.

It was Saturday afternoon and the men were idle, a weekly occurrence the
Colonel had learned to dread since his incumbency as deputy sheriff and,
in consequence of his office, felt responsible for the peace of the
community at large until Monday morning.

Something unusual was in the air, and the three men were at once aware
of it. The uneasiness, that had prevailed in the sheds and at The Gore
during the past month, was evidently coming to a crisis now that the
men's pay was two weeks overdue.

Emlie looked grave on replying, after a pause in which the three were
busy taking note of the constantly increasing crowd in front of the town
hall:

"I don't blame you, Colonel; there'll be the deuce to pay if the men
don't get paid off by Monday noon. They've been uneasy now so long about
the piece work settlement, that this last delay is going to be the match
that fires the train--and no slow match either from the looks; I don't
understand this delay. When did Romanzo send his last message?"

"About an hour ago, but he hasn't had any answer yet," replied the
Colonel, shading his eyes with his hat to look up street at the town
hall crowd. "He has been telephoning and telegraphing off and on for the
last two weeks; but he can't get any satisfaction--corporations, you
know, don't materialize just for the rappings."

"What does Champney say?" inquired Mr. Wiggins.

"State of the market," said the Colonel laconically.

The men did not look at one another, for each was feeling a certain
degree of indignation, of humiliation and disappointment that one of
their own, Champney Googe, should go back on Flamsted to the extent of
allowing the "market" to place the great quarry interests, through
non-payment of the workers, in jeopardy.

"Has Romanzo heard direct from him to-day?" asked Emlie.

"No; the office replied he was out of the city for Saturday and Sunday;
didn't give his address but asked if we could keep the men quiet till
the middle of next week when the funds would be forwarded."

"I wired our New York exchange yesterday," said Emlie, "but they can't
give us any information--answered things had gone to pot pretty
generally with certain securities, but Flamsted was all right,-