had work to do. His purpose
settled, there was no hesitancy in his movements. His was the code of
the West; his methods those of the desert and the mountains, the code
and method of a fighting man.

A dim trail, rock strewn, led to the spring, where it connected with an
ore road extending down the valley to Haskell. Another trail across
the spur shortened the distance to the La Rosita shaft-house. But
Westcott chose to follow none of these, lest he run into some
ambuscade. The fellow who had fired into the shack was,
unquestionably, hiding somewhere in the darkness, probably along one of
these trails in the hope of completing his work.

To avoid encountering him the miner crept along the far side of the
cabin through the dense shadow, and then struck directly across the
hill crest, guided by the distant gleam of light. It was a rough
climb, dangerous in places, but not unfamiliar. Slowly and silently,
cautious to dislodge no rolling stone, and keeping well concealed among
the rocks, he finally descended to the level of the shaft feeling
confident that his presence was not discovered. He was near enough now
to hear the noise of the hoisting-engine, and to mark the figure of the
engineer in the dim light of a lantern.

Rock was being brought up the shaft, and cast onto the dump, but was
evidently of small value, proof to the mind of the watcher that the
gang below were merely engaged in tunnel work, and had not yet struck
ore in any paying quantity.

He lay there watching operations for several minutes, carefully
studying out the situation. He had no clearly defined plan, only a
desire to learn exactly what was being done. The office beyond the
shaft was lighted, although the faint gleam was only dimly revealed
along the edge of lowered curtains concealing the interior. However,
this evidence that some one was within served to attract Westcott's
attention, and he crept around, under the shadow of the dump, and
approached the farther corner. He could perceive now two men on the
hoisting platform, and hear the growl of their voices, but without
being able to distinguish speech. Every few moments there sounded the
crash of falling rock as the buckets were emptied. Revolver in hand he
made the round of the building to assure himself that no guard had been
posted there, then chose the window farthest away from the shaft, and
endeavoured to look in.

The heavy green curtain extended to the sill, but was sli