s without sufficient sleep, and he was deathly weary, emaciated to
the bone, and trembling with nervous weakness, but he was indomitable. A
long life of camping, prospecting, and trenching had fitted him to
withstand even this strain, and to "stay with it" was an instinct with
him. Therefore he built a big fire not far from the mine and spread his
blankets there; but he did not lie down till after midnight, and only
then because he could not keep awake, even while in sitting posture. "I
must sleep, anyhow," he muttered. "I can't stand this any longer. I must
sleep"--And so his eyes closed.

He was awakened by a voice he knew calling out: "Is this the way ye
watch y'r mine, Sherm Bidwell?" And, looking up, he saw the Widow
Delaney sitting astride a mule and looking down at him with tender
amusement. "Ye are a pitcher; sure! Ye look like wan o' the holy saints
of ould--or a tramp. Help me off this baste and I'll turn to and scorch
a breakfast for ye."

He staggered stiffly to his feet and awkwardly approached her. "I had
only just dropped off," he apologized.

"Ye poor lad!" she said, compassionately. "Ye're stiff as a poker wid
cold."

"How did ye come out with the ore?" he asked.

"Thrust y'r Maggie! I saw it loaded into a car and sent away. Bedad, I
had a moind to go wid it to the mill, but I says, Sherm nor mesilf can
be in two places to wanst. So I gave o'er the notion and came home.
They'll thieve the half of it, av coorse, but so goes the world, divil
catch it!"

The widow was a powerful reinforcement. She got breakfast while Bidwell
dozed again, and with the influence of hot coffee and the genial sun the
firm grew confident of holding at least the major part of their
monstrous good luck.

"Thrust no wan but me," said the widow in decisive warning. "The world
is full of rogues. From this toime ivery man's hand is agin' y'r
gold--schamin' to reach y'r pockets. Rest yersilf and I'll look after
the gould. From this toime on we work only wid our brains."

She did indeed become the captain. On her advice he sent a man for
ore-sacks and tools, while other willing hands set to work to build a
cabin to shelter them.

"We're takin' no chances," she said; "we camp right here."

That day Las Animas, Crestone, Powder Gulch, and Los Gatos emptied
themselves upon the hills, and among them were representatives of big
firms in Denver, Colorado Springs, and Pueblo. The path past the Maggie
Mine was worn deep by the fee