“I see more than that,” declared Kirk. “You’ve got just one chance for your life, partner. That’s to dig up that dough. Cash is what I need to make a getaway.” Teagler appeared to be deliberating. “All right,” he said, at last. “I’ll show you.” “In the shanty here?” asked Kirk. Teagler shook his head. “Out by the mine. I’ll show you.” “Any tricks and I’ll blow you to everlastin’ ----” threatened the thief. He placed his gun on the table while he untied the hands of his captive. Kirk’s intentions were unchanged. He would take no chances on leaving Teagler alive, less so now that cash was in prospect which would help him to a safe getaway. He retrieved his revolver and pushed Teagler to his feet. “Go ahead,” he ordered, “and, remember, no tricks.” Teagler shook out his legs, cramped by the tight binding. His hands still tied behind him, he walked out the door, wobbling a bit, as if dazed. Kirk came close behind him. Teagler trudged across the porch, put down a foot to the log steps and then, so quickly that Kirk at first believed he had accidentally stumbled, he dropped toward the ground. A quick serve and, with all his strength, Teagler drove his body against the middle prop of the porch, the prop he had noticed was weakened. With a loud rending of timbers, the porch crashed to earth. Over the narrow ledge along which the trail led to the cabin entrance, catapulted the porch, “Snapper” Kirk, old Joe Teagler, and an avalanche of dirt and stone, down the steep mountain slope. Kirk’s loud curses changed to shrieks of dismay, as he saw his peril. Teagler had rushed toward the back of the porch rapidly enough to keep from being pinned helplessly under the timbers. Kirk’s surprize had handicapped him. Teagler, his wits keen, flattened himself against a heap of rocks that resisted the rush of the home-made avalanche. He heard Kirk’s cries growing fainter, as the man plunged downward. Teagler was aware, however, that about two hundred feet below the avalanche would end in a thicket of jack pine and rocks. Frantically, Teagler severed the rope about his wrists by rubbing the hemp on a sharp ledge of rock until he could pull it apart. Then he plunged back to the cabin, drew himself up to the door, obtained a shotgun concealed at the rear of the shanty, and hurried by a winding trail to the point where he expected to find Kirk. He was just in time. The fellow was twisting and moaning as he emerged from unconsciousness. His eyes twitched open, to see Teagler squatted near him, covering him with the shotgun. “I’ll take that gun of mine in your pocket first,” directed Teagler. “Never mind, I’ll get it.” Kirk tried to move an arm, then groaned in pain. “Now, the necklace.” Under a torrent of Kirk’s curses, the prospector reached in the pocket for the gems.