ng him closely,
but he appeared to take no notice of it and entered the office as
usual, with a civil greeting to Haight. The latter sprang to his feet,
taking his position close by the shaded window, his right hand
grasping the revolver in his pocket.

Rutherford's lips curled with scorn and contempt as he looked at
Haight; he saw there could be no semblance of civility between them,
it was to be open war.

"You are a coward!" he said.

"And you are a sneak," Haight hissed in reply, "prying around here
when you had better be minding your own business."

"Let me tell you that I am attending to my own business, and you will
find before you are much older, that I have more right here than
you."

For a moment Haight hesitated, astonished by Rutherford's words and
manner, then was about to make some reply, when the click of the
instrument attracted his attention. Keeping his eye on Rutherford, he
gave the answering signal with his left hand, then listened intently
for the message. It came, containing the final orders and the farewell
words of the Silver City office:

"Send the mines to hell, and Houston and his crowd with them. Look
out for yourself. Good-bye."

In his interest in the message, Haight seemed, for an instant, to have
partially forgotten Rutherford's presence, his eyes dropped toward the
instrument, and in that instant, Rutherford cleared the space between
them at a bound, gripping Haight firmly with one hand, while with the
other he knocked the revolver which Haight had hastily drawn, half way
across the room. With a single blow he knocked Haight to the floor,
partially stunning him, but as he regained his senses, he rolled over
towards the window, and with a strength born of desperation, struggled
to his knees, and before Rutherford realized what he was trying to do,
the shade flew upward to the top of the window. Even then, Rutherford
would have thought little of it, had not Haight betrayed himself by a
leer of fiendish triumph. In an instant Rutherford understood that it
had been some pre-arranged signal.

"You cowardly villain!" he exclaimed, and pausing only long enough to
give him a blow which left him unconscious on the floor, he rushed
forth into the darkness and fury of the storm, in the direction of the
mines.

As he did so, he stumbled against a small boy, running even more
swiftly in the same direction.

"Mister, Mister Houston! is that you?" rang out Bull-dog's voice,
above the