that they too
followed the great gamble of mining. But one thing was certain; they
watched him throughout the meal; they talked about him in low tones and
ceased when Mother Howard came near; they seemed to recognize in him
some one who brought both curiosity and innate enmity to the surface.
And more; long before the rest had finished their meal, they rose and
left the room, intent, apparently, upon some important mission.

After that, Fairchild ate with less of a relish. In his mind was the
certainty that these two men knew him--or at least knew about him--and
that they did not relish his presence. Nor were his suspicions long in
being fulfilled. Hardly had he reached the hall, when the beckoning
eyes of Mother Howard signaled to him. Instinctively he waited for the
other diners to pass him, then looked eagerly toward Mother Howard as
she once more approached.

"I don't know what you 're doing here," came shortly, "but I want to."

Fairchild straightened. "There is n't much to tell you," he answered
quietly. "My father left me the Blue Poppy mine in his will. I 'm
here to work it."

"Know anything about mining?"

"Not a thing."

"Or the people you 're liable to have to buck up against?"

"Very little."

"Then, Son," and Mother Howard laid a kindly hand on his arm, "whatever
you do, keep your plans to yourself and don't talk too much. And
what's more, if you happen to get into communication with Blindeye
Bozeman and Taylor Bill, lie your head off. Maybe you saw 'em, a
sandy-haired fellow and a big man with a black mustache, sitting at the
back of the room?" Fairchild nodded. "Well, stay away from them.
They belong to 'Squint' Rodaine. Know him?"

She shot the question sharply. Again Fairchild nodded.

"I 've heard the name. Who is he?"

A voice called to Mother Howard from the dining room. She turned away,
then leaned close to Robert Fairchild. "He 's a miner, and he 's
always been a miner. Right now, he 's mixed up with some of the
biggest people in town. He 's always been a man to be afraid of--and
he was your father's worst enemy!"

Then, leaving Fairchild staring after her, she moved on to her duties
in the kitchen.

CHAPTER V

Impatiently Fairchild awaited Mother Howard's return, and when at last
she came forth from the kitchen, he drew her into the old parlor,
shadowy now in the gathering dusk, and closed the doors.

"Mrs. Howard," he began, "I--"

"Mother Howard,"