“I’m disobeying orders, Mr. Vallory,” he began. “Plegg tells us we mustn’t bother you with our complaints, but in justice to my men I’ve got to break over this one time. You know that weak spot in the tunnel roof?--the one I showed you the first time you were in?” David nodded. The “weak spot” was a section of the big bore which had been driven through a prehistoric gash in the granite; a huge vertical crack which had been filled with softer rock in some later earth upheaval. “What about it?” he asked. “It’s getting my goat. It is growing worse every day, and I’m afraid it will come down on us. Since we’re working three shifts, with a gang in the heading all the time, you know what a cave-in would mean; the shift that happened to be caught behind it would die to the last man before it could be dug out. There’s enough of that slippery marl hanging up in the ‘fault’ to bury an army, and, sooner or later, it’s going to come down. But I can’t make Plegg see it that way at all. He says I’ve got too many nerves.” “You think the weak spot ought to be timbered?” “I know it ought; and the men think so, too. There has been a good bit of grumbling and some little strike talk among them, and I can’t blame them. They say the company has no right to ask them to take their lives in their hands for the sake of saving a few dollars’ worth of timbers. It was my shift off this afternoon, but if I had known you were going to be up there, I should have stayed and asked you to take another look at the roof for yourself.” “I’ll go up to-morrow,” was David’s prompt offer. “We mustn’t take chances on the lives of your men. At the same time, it doesn’t pay to let a thing of that kind get on your nerves, Fred. The responsibility is up to Plegg and me, and we’ll take care of it. Now you’d better hike back to the bunk shack and catch up on your sleep.” It was less than a quarter of an hour after Altman had gone when Silas Plegg came in and found David Vallory preparing to go to bed. “About that weak place in the tunnel roof in heading Number One,” said David, pausing with one lace-boot off. “Have you examined it lately?” “I’ve been keeping an eye on it ever since we drove through it,” was the first assistant’s answer. Then: “Has Altman been worrying you about it?” “He was here a few minutes ago. He seems to think it’s dangerous, and says his men are protesting.” “Altman is a fine young fellow, and an expert in the rock-blasting, but he is a little inclined to be nervous,” Plegg threw in. “That sort of thing is always contagious, and Altman’s personal scare has been spreading itself. That roof stood up while we were driving through the fault, and I guess it will continue to stand.” “If there is any doubt about it, it ought to be timbered,” was David’s decision. “I’m looking to you, Plegg, for the carrying out of these routine details.” “We can’t afford to timber it,” said Plegg, shortly.