the Wire-Silver mine.

Between Silver Switch and the bridge station, the main line of the
railroad follows the base of the triangle, with the precipitous bluffs
of the big hill on the left and the torrenting flood of the Timanyoni on
the right. Along the eastern side of the triangle, and leaving the main
track at Silver Switch, ran the spur which had formerly served the
Wire-Silver when the working opening of the mine had been on the eastern
slope of the ridge-like hill. For some years previous to the summer of
overturnings this spur had been disused, though its track, ending among
a group of the old mine buildings five miles away, was still in
commission.

Along the western side of the triangle, with Little Butte station for
its point of divergence from the main line, ran the new spur, built to
accommodate Flemister after he had dug through the hill, ousted the
rightful owner of the true Wire-Silver vein, and had transferred his
labor hamlet and his plant--or the major part of both--to the western
slope of the butte, at this point no more than a narrow ridge separating
the eastern and western gulches.

Train 205, with ex-engineer Judson apparently sound asleep in one of the
rearward seats of the day coach, was on time when it swung out of the
lower canyon portal and raced around the curves and down the grades in
its crossing of Timanyoni Park. At Point-of-Rocks Judson came awake
sufficiently to put his face to the window, with a shading hand to cut
off the car lights; but having thus located the train's placement in the
Park-crossing race, he put his knees up against the back of the
adjoining seat, pulled his cap over his eyes, and to all outward
appearances went to sleep again. Four or five miles farther along,
however, there came a gentle grinding of brake-shoes upon the chilled
wheel-treads that aroused him quickly. Another flattening of his nose
against the window-pane showed him the familiar bulk of Little Butte
looming black in the moonlight, and a moment later he had let himself
silently into the rear vestibule of the day coach, and was as silently
opening the folding doors of the vestibule itself.

Hanging off by the hand-rails, he saw the engine's headlight pick up the
switch-stand of the old spur. The train was unmistakably slowing now,
and he made ready to jump if the need should arise, picking his place at
the track side as the train lights showed him the ground. As the speed
was checked, Judson saw wh