an hour if we have
to shovel a path all the way up Kentucky Gulch."

He hurried away then, while Fairchild and the men followed him into
town and to their breakfast. Then, recruiting a new gang on the
promise of payment at the end of their three-day shift, Fairchild went
back to the mine. But the word had spread, and others were there
before him.

Already a wide path showed up Kentucky Gulch. Already fifteen or
twenty miners were assembled about the opening of the Blue Poppy
tunnel, awaiting permission to enter, the usual rush upon a lucky mine
to view its riches. Behind him, Fairchild could see others coming from
Ohadi to take a look at the new strike, and his heart bounded with
happiness tinged with sorrow. Harry was not there to enjoy it all;
Harry was gone, and in spite of his every effort, Fairchild had failed
to find him.

All that morning they thronged down the shaft of the Blue Poppy. The
old method of locomotion grew too slow; willing hands repaired the
hoist and sent volunteers for a gasoline engine to run it, while in the
meantime officials of curiosity labored on the broken old ladder that
once had encompassed the distance from the bottom of the shaft to the
top, rehabilitating it to such an extent that it might be used again.
The drift was crowded with persons bearing candles and carbides. The
big chamber was filled, leaving barely room for the men to work with
their drills at the final holes that would be needed to clear the vein
to the foot wall on the other side and enable the miners to start
upward on their new stope. Fairchild looked about him proudly,
happily; it was his, his and Harry's--if Harry ever should come back
again--the thing he had worked for, the thing he had dreamed of,
planned for.

Some one brushed against him, and there came a slight tug at his coat.
Fairchild looked downward to see passing the form of Anita Richmond. A
moment later she looked toward him, but in her eyes there was no light
of recognition, nothing to indicate that she had just given him a
signal of greeting and congratulation. And yet Fairchild felt that she
had. Uneasily he walked away, following her with his eyes as she made
her way into the blackness of the tunnel and toward the shaft. Then,
absently, he put his hand into his pocket.

Something there caused his heart to halt momentarily,--a piece of
paper. He crumpled it in his hand, he rubbed his fingers over it
wonderingly; it had not been in h