McClintock drew him to one side and gave careful instructions. “They’re likely to ask you a lot of questions. Take your time to answer them. You’ll be breathless and panting, because you’ve run all the way from town to bring the news and to get their help. If you can’t think of a good answer tell them you don’t know. You can say the fire was coming down Turkey Creek Avenue when you left and that it was spreading to the residence streets. But don’t know too much. That’s the safest way. You met Bob Dodson and he asked you to come out for help.” “I’ll say I met him just as I come out from my room fastenin’ my suspenders,” contributed Madden, entering into the spirit of it. “I’ll say I lit a shuck for Bald Knob an’ only hit the high spots on the way.” “Good. Well, good luck to you.” Scot gave him one more suggestion. “They may leave a man or two at the Ground Hog. If they do, try to lead them round to the north side of the shaft house. We’ll creep up as close as we can and try to surprise them.” The reaction of Dodson’s mine guards to the news that Piodie was on fire was exactly what the McClintocks had anticipated. Madden, halted by the sentry, gasped out his message. In an incredibly short time the men were out of their bunks listening to it. Not the faintest gleam of suspicion touched the minds of one of them. Wasn’t the proof of Madden’s story written red in the sky for any of them to read? They plunged back into the bunk house and got into more clothes. As fast as they were ready the men went straggling downhill toward town. Much against his will they had elected a young teamster to stay on guard at the Ground Hog. Madden volunteered to stay with him on duty. It was easy to lead the teamster round to the north side of the shaft house, from which point they could better view the angry sky and speculate on the progress of the flames. “Doggone it, tha’s just my luck to be stuck up here whilst the rest of the boys go to town an’ see the fun,” the faithful guard lamented. “I wisht I’d joined the hook an’ ladder comp’ny when I was asked, then I’d sure enough have to go.” Madden sympathized. It was tough luck. If he wasn’t all tired out running from town he certainly would like to see the fire himself. Sure enough it was an A-1 fire. They sat down on a pile of timbers that had been hauled up to the Ground Hog for sets to be used in underground work. A man came round the corner of the shaft house and moved toward them. The guard caught sight of him and remembered what he was there for. He jumped up and pulled out a revolver. “Keep back there!” he ordered excitedly. The man moved evenly toward him, hands buried in his trousers pockets. The guard backed away. “Who are you? Git back there. Hear me? Git back.” In a duel of wits the man who is certain of himself has the advantage of the one who is not sure. Scot McClintock did not lose a stride. His unhurried indolence radiated confidence.