Then, with thunderous leaps and bounds, they came down the home stretch, the one a streak of blue and silver, the other a streak of gold and crimson, and the roar of the multitude fairly drowned the shrieking of the whistles as engineer James Flanagan, of the Southern Pacific Company—his crimson cap gone, his black hair streaming in the wind, and his red flannel shirt open at the breast and almost blown from his massive white shoulders—rode across the signal wire five feet ahead of his competitor, winning the first prize of $10,000 for his company and the diamond badge for himself, making the run of four miles in three minutes nine and one-quarter seconds, or at a rate of over eighty miles an hour. “It was nothing, sor,” said Flanagan to the vice president of the Southern Pacific Company, who climbed upon the cab of the locomotive to shake hands with his engineer. “If it wasn’t for the time lost in getting under way I’d engage to sind the Collis P. around the four-mile track in two minutes and a half. Sure, the machine was never built that could catch her on a straight run. She’s a dandy and a darlin’ and a glory to old California,” and he patted the throttle valve affectionately. “Flanagan,” said Vice President Crocker, “the owners of this race track have made one mistake They give the diamond badge, worth $1,000, to the engineer, and the purse of $10,000 to the company. Suppose we trade and let the company take the badge and you take the purse.” “Oh, more power to you, Misther Crocker,” said the delighted engineer. “It’s thrade I will, and may you live until I offer to thrade back, and whin you die may you go straight up, wid never a hot box to delay you on your run to glory. I’ll give twinty-five hundred dollars of the money to Dan Nilson, that shoveled the coals unther the boiler, like the good man he is, and wid the balance I’ll buy a chicken ranch in Alameda that will be the makin’ of Missis Flanagan and the kids.” On the bench behind the professor and the doctor two men were seated engaged in earnest conversation. “I am not asserting,” said one, “that the ore is so very rich. It will average fifteen per cent in copper carbonates, and that is good enough for anybody. But I do say that the lode is an immense one.” “How long do you suppose it would last, Bob, with a dozen forty-ton furnaces at work on it?” “Last? why, if you had Niagara for a water-power, and the State of Colorado for a dumping-ground, and hades for a smelting furnace, you couldn’t work that ledge out in a million years.” “Well, Bob,” laughed the other man, “I will go and look at your mine. Can you start to-night?” “Your time is mine,” was the response. “Very good; shall we go by the Iron Mountain route, or by Kansas City?” “I will have to go by some other route than either,” was the reply. “I cannot cross the State of Missouri; I am honorably dead there.” “Honorably dead?”