r a director of any kind to hold a certain financial
interest in the scheme."

He looked at Nasmyth, and made a significant gesture. "Unfortunately
there are not at the moment more than a very few dollars at my
disposal. The fact, you will recognize, is likely to hamper my efforts
in an administrative capacity."

"Precisely!" said Nasmyth. "It is a matter I have provided for. You
will be placed in possession of a holding of the size the others fixed
upon as convenient when the blocks are divided off."

"No larger?"

"No," answered Nasmyth; "I am afraid you will have to be content with
that."

Waynefleet went out, and Gordon turned to Nasmyth. "It's going to cost
you something," he said. "You can't charge it on the scheme. I'll
divide it with you."

There was a slight restraint in Nasmyth's manner. "I'm afraid I can't
permit it. It will be charged against my claim. Considering
everything, it was a thing I felt I had to do."

Then Wheeler, who had been quietly watching them, broke in.

"What did you put that image up for, anyway?" he asked.

Gordon smiled in a significant fashion. "It's our friend's affair, and
I guess he's not going to tell you why he did it. Still, in one sense,
I 'most think it was up to him."

Wheeler let the matter drop, and in a few more minutes they went out,
and Nasmyth and Gordon turned into the trail that led to Gordon's
ranch.

CHAPTER XXII

NASMYTH SETS TO WORK

It was a scorching afternoon on the heights above, where rocky slope
and climbing firs ran far up towards the blue heavens under a blazing
sun, but it was dim and cool in the misty depths of the canyon. There
was eternal shadow in that tremendous rift, and a savage desolation
rolled away from it; but on this afternoon the sounds of human
activity rang along its dusky walls. The dull thud of axes fell from a
gully that rent the mountain-side, and now and then a mass of
shattered rock came crashing down, while the sharp clinking of the
drills broke intermittently through the hoarse roar of the fall. Wet
with the spray of the fall, Nasmyth, stripped to blue shirt and old
duck trousers, stood swinging a heavy hammer, which he brought down
upon the head of the steel bar that his companion held so many times a
minute with rhythmic precision. Though they changed round now and
then, he had done much the same thing since early morning, and his
back and arms ached almost intolerably; but still the great hammer
whirled