The track of the second buggy proved to be a short scent soon lost. Within a hundred yards of its turning-point opposite the glade the buggy had left the wood road, the tracks swerving to the right in a direction opposite to that taken by the earlier vehicle; and neither the wheels nor the hoofs of the horse had left any impress on the thick carpeting of fallen leaves under the trees; or none that amateur trailers could see and follow. They were returning down the by-road when a crash and a hoarse roar of escaping steam notified them that once more something had gone wrong with the machinery. Carfax threw up his head like a thoroughbred starting in a race. “We have been hunting for causes,” he snapped: “there is effect number one, right now! I can outrun you to the home plate!” They came upon the scene, neck and neck, just after Rucker had stopped the engine and opened his fire-door. The walking-beam had fallen again, carrying down a portion of the derrick framework; and the mountaineer whose name on the pay-roll appeared as “Morgan,” and who had been drill-turning in Sawyer’s place at the moment, was caught and held under the wreckage. Happily, the man was neither killed nor very severely injured. A few minutes’ quick work, to which everybody lent a hand, sufficed to extricate him from the mass of broken timbers; and a rather ugly scalp wound, which Carfax proceeded deftly to wash and dress and bandage, figured as the worst of his hurts. Tregarvon sent the man home in charge of the other masquerading McNabb; and then came the reckoning with the smashed drilling plant. “What are we in for this time, Rucker?” was the owner’s question, put after the machinist had measured the damage with a critical eye. “Mostly a couple o’ days’ hang-up, I guess. Leave me a man or two to help me blacksmith, and I’ll see what I can do. But what’s eatin’ me is, what done it?” There seemed to be no categorical answer to this, the cause of the breakdown being as yet well hidden in the _débris_ of the effect. Tregarvon was willing to charge it to the chapter of accidents, but Carfax was less easily satisfied. “If it were the first,” he demurred; “but it isn’t. There is an entire series behind it. And, coming right on the heels of the little mysteries of last night ... I’m of the opinion that this is the beginning of more hostilities, Vance.” Then to Rucker: “How far did you get the hole down, Billy?” “Not more than a couple o’ feet.” “Drilling hard?” asked Tregarvon. “Um-m-m; middlin’ hard; ’bout like the one we put down over yonder at the head of the tramway--the first one we drilled.”