h we hadn't invited that bunch up here," he added. "They
look to me like a lot of dollar thugs, but they work like horses. Never
saw such men with the shovel and pick. And fight? They've cleaned up on
a half of the men in camp. If we can get Thorpe--"

"We'll see him to-night," interrupted Philip. "Or to be correct, this
morning. It's one o'clock. How long will it take to round up our best
men?"

"Half an hour," said MacDougall, promptly, jumping to his feet. "There
are Roberts, Henshaw, Tom Cassidy, Lecault, the Frenchman, and the two
St. Pierre brothers. They're all crack gun-men. Give 'em each an
automatic and they're worth twenty ordinary men."

A few moments later MacDougall extinguished the light, and the two men
left the cabin. Philip drew his companion's attention to the dimly
lighted window of the cabin to which he had followed the stranger a
short time before.

"That's Thorpe's," said the young engineer. "I haven't seen him since
morning. Guess he must be up."

"We'll sound him first," said Philip, starting off.

At MacDougall's knock there was a moment's silence inside, then heavy
footsteps, and the door was flung open. Sandy entered, followed by
Philip. Thorpe stepped back. He was of medium height, yet so
athletically built that he gave the impression of being two inches
taller than he actually was. He was smooth-shaven, and his hair and
eyes were black. His whole appearance was that of a person infinitely
superior to what Philip had expected to find in the gang-foreman. His
first words, and the manner in which they were spoken, added to this
impression.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

"Good morning," replied MacDougall, nodding toward Philip. "This is Mr.
Whittemore, Thorpe. We saw your light, and thought you wouldn't mind a
call."

Philip and Thorpe shook hands.

"Just in time to have a cup of coffee," invited Thorpe, pleasantly,
motioning toward a steaming pot on the stove. "I just got in from a
long hike out over the new road-bed. Been looking the ground over along
the north shore of the Gray Beaver, and was so interested that I didn't
start for home until dark. Won't you draw up, gentlemen? There are
mighty few who can beat me at making coffee."

MacDougall had noted a sudden change in Philip's face, and as Thorpe
hastened to lift the over-boiling pot from the stove he saw his chief
make a quick movement toward a small table, and pick up an object which
looked like a bit of cloth. In an inst