be made out with the greatest care. There were tracings and blue
prints to be made from the original plats, by which it was to be shown
that the vein of the Sunrise mine was but an extension of that of the
Morning Star, one of the famous North Star group of mines; and there
were also very important and strictly confidential letters to be
written, under Mr. Blaisdell's directions, to the Silver City office,
more particularly to Mr. Rivers, the secretary of the company, whom
Houston had not yet seen.

The Sunrise mine which was suddenly looming up into such prominence,
was one of which Houston had never heard, but judging from the rich
samples of ore produced, and the testimony of experts and assayers, it
seemed to be one of the most valuable properties in that locality; but
to Houston, situated as he was, behind the scenes, it only afforded an
additional glimpse of the business methods of the company.

As he still sat at his desk, having just completed his day's work,
Morgan came in and threw himself down heavily into a chair, taking his
favorite attitude, with his feet crossed on the table, and his hands
clasped behind his head.

"You look tired, Morgan," commented Houston.

"I am tired," he replied, "too tired to breathe if I wasn't obliged
to; this has been a hard day's work, and if old Blaisdell sells that
mine, as he expects to, he'll have to divy up pretty liberally."

Houston turned around facing Morgan, with a peculiar smile.

"The Sunrise mine seems to have developed wonderfully within the past
few days," he remarked quietly.

Morgan laughed; "You'd think so," he replied, "if you could have seen
it four days ago. There hasn't been a day's work done on it for over a
year; some of it had caved in, and even the main shaft was pretty well
filled up with rubbish. Now that's all cleaned out, and the few places
where there is any quantity of ore in sight show up to good advantage,
and we've hauled eight or ten tons of ore from the Yankee Boy down
onto the dump, so it makes a pretty respectable showing. Oh, the boss
is a cuckoo for any job of that kind."

"Does the mining company own the Yankee Boy?" asked Houston.

"No," answered Morgan, "that whole group of mines is owned by a set
of New Yorkers; this company out here is their agent, that's all."

"And New Yorkers are not supposed to know all the ins and outs of
their western agent's mining deals," commented Houston.

"Well, I should say not! There's a go