"O fiddle, sounds like an old Spanish mission," objected another. "The House that Ham Built," suggested Mr. Dean. "Buffalo Roost," suggested Willis. "We certainly do love to roost around in here, and it's in Buffalo Canyon." After a very heated discussion, Buffalo Roost was chosen for the name, and Willis set about gathering twigs to make a rustic sign for over the door. The wood all in, the dinner dishes washed, and the cabin put in order, the next thing to do was to thatch the big bed. O, what mountains of sweet-scented green boughs it took! One party, under Mr. Dean, pulled in pile after pile of boughs from up on the snow-covered hillside, while the other party cut and trimmed and laid them in. Choice large fans were laid in the bottom, the butts toward the foot, the bow of the branch uppermost. Then a thick layer of fine sprigs to fill in every hollow. Smith worked with a will, and enjoyed the day like he had no other since the work on the cabin had begun. Never before had they so hated to leave the Roost, for every fellow was coming to love it and its companionship. It gave plenty of healthful action, good things to think about, and warm friends. It was building character and they did not know it. It was fitting a choice group of older fellows to work together in the community life about them, working for the welfare and comfort of others, forgetting themselves in their unselfish service. In the late afternoon it began to snow again, and by the time they were well on their way home it was falling fast. "Getting in that wood was a wise stunt," observed Smith, "for the next time we see the old Roost it will probably be snowbound." Old Ben had been watching for their return most of the afternoon. As they came across the stream and up to the road below the inn, he called Mr. Allen to the door. "I jist want t' ask ye if that tarnal varmit, Williams, has been botherin' yew fellers any sence he started work on that new claim o' hisn. If they ever was a sneakin' whelp, he's it. He couldn't get possession o' Tad's tunnel; he darsent touch it, so he's gone an' started a tunnel on the other side o' that dyke. He's been workin' it, now, off an' on all this fall, but I didn't know it till they brought a wounded man from there yesterday. Seem a stone mashed his foot bad. They stopped here to rest a bit, an' I seed the feller. I've knowed him these ten years, an' he's a devil. Does dirty work fer any tarnal critter at'll pay him well fer it. Served him right. I s'pose you saw something of them last night, as they went back up to the mine. There was three of 'em and a mean lookin' dog." Mr. Allen listened in silence. He was wondering just what Old Ben knew of this Williams, and why he should be so interested in the boys at the cabin. "Ben," he said, and he looked the old man straight in the eye, "do you know a man named Tad Kieser?" Ben dropped his eyes and shuffled his foot aimlessly on the floor.