lecting dimes and quarters and
half dollars as she goes."

A minute later the length of the street swept out ahead of them. It is
probable that the world had never before seen a street just like this
Broadway in Tete Jaune--the pleasure Mecca of five thousand workers along
the line of steel. There had been great "camps" in the building of other
railroads, but never a city in the wilderness like this--a place that had
sprung up like magic and which, a few months later, was doomed to disappear
as quickly. For half a mile it blazed out ahead of them, two garishly
lighted rows of shacks, big tents, log buildings, and rough board
structures, with a rough, wide street between.

To-night Tete Jaune was like a blazing fire against the darkness of the
forest and mountain beyond. A hundred sputtering "jacks" sent up columns of
yellow flame in front of places already filled with the riot and tumult of
the night. A thousand lamps and coloured lanterns flashed like fireflies
along the way, and under them the crowd had gathered, and was flowing back
and forth. It was a weird and fantastic sight--this one strange and almost
uncanny street that was there largely for the play and the excitement of
men.

Aldous turned to Joanne. He knew what this town meant. It was the first and
the last of its kind, and its history would never be written. The world
outside the mountains knew nothing of it. Like the men who made up its
transient life it would soon be a forgotten thing of the past. Even the
mountains would forget it. But more than once, as he had stood a part of
it, his blood had warmed at the thought of the things it held secret, the
things that would die with it, the big human drama it stood for, its hidden
tragedies, its savage romance, its passing comedy. He found something of
his own thought in Joanne's eyes.

"There isn't much to it," he said, "but to-night, if you made the hunt, you
could find men of eighteen or twenty nationalities in that street."

"And a little more besides," laughed Blackton. "If you could write the
complete story of how Tete Jaune has broken the law, Aldous, it would fill
a volume as big as Peggy's family Bible!"

"And after all, it's funny," said Peggy Blackton. "There!" she cried
suddenly. "Isn't _that_ funny?"

The glare and noisy life were on both sides of them now. Half a dozen
phonographs were going. From up the street came the softer strains of a
piano, and from in between the shrieking notes of