us distrust at the elder Mr. Winters, shuffled off
in the direction of the miners' quarters. A little later, a man with
powerful, athletic frame, who walked with quick, elastic step, and yet
as though conscious of his power, passed the house, followed by a fine
collie. His hat was drawn low over his eyes, partly concealing his
face, but this did not prevent his watching the group on the porch
with close, keen scrutiny. Houston and Rutherford started slightly,
and exchanged glances, for they had recognized their fellow passenger
from Valley City, and they would doubtless have made some comment, but
that just then Miss Gladden spoke:

"Lyle, dear, I wonder who that can be; he is dressed like a miner, but
his carriage and appearance is that of a gentleman."

"That," answered Lyle, in a low tone, "is Jack; he is a miner, and he
is also a gentleman."

CHAPTER XVIII.

Several days had elapsed since the eastern party, accompanied by Mr.
Blaisdell and Mr. Rivers, had returned to the city, and, as yet,
nothing had been learned of their decision regarding the mine. The
extra force of men on the Sunrise had returned to their regular
shifts, and the work at the mining camp was going forward in the old
routine, with the monotonous precision of clock-work.

Houston was quietly pursuing his own way, conscious that the task
before him involved difficulty and danger. He was aware that Haight,
notwithstanding his obsequious politeness, was one of his worst
enemies, and would injure him in every underhanded way within his
power, as, beneath the smooth, smiling exterior, Houston could detect
a deep, subtle malignity toward himself; and he rightly judged that
Jim Maverick, the tool of the mining company, would be the instrument
Haight would use when he was ready to work his revenge.

Maverick, from the first, had hated Houston with that instinctive
hatred which such vile natures, groveling in their own degradation,
always feel toward those moving on a higher plane, in an atmosphere
untainted by the putrescence which is their natural element. Maverick
knew that, to a man like Houston, his own baseness and villainy were
written in his face, and even in his slouching, cringing gait, as
plainly as though branded in letters of fire, and this was sufficient
to kindle his anger against him, and Haight, by his talk, added fuel
to the slowly smoldering fire. At home, but more particularly among
the miners, in the camp or at the Y, Mav