The Judge exclaimed in astonishment. Corrigan grunted. "I ordered that stuff six weeks ago, in anticipation of my victory in your court. You can see how I trusted in your honesty and perspicacity. I'll have it on the ground tomorrow--some of it today. Of course I want to proceed legally, and in order to do that I'll have to have the court order this morning. You do whatever is necessary." At daylight he was in the laborers' camp, skirting the railroad at the edge of town, looking for Carson. He found the big Irishman in one of the larger tent-houses, talking with the cook, who was preparing breakfast amid a smother of smoke and the strong mingled odors of frying bacon and coffee. Corrigan went only to the flap of the tent, motioning Carson outside. Walking away from the tent toward some small frame buildings down the track, Corrigan said: "There are several carloads of material there," pointing to the flat-cars which he had shown to the Judge. "I've hired a mining man to superintend the erection of that stuff--it's mining machinery and material for buildings. I want you to place as many of your men as you can spare at the disposal of the engineer; his name's Pickand, and you'll find him at the cars at eight o'clock. I'll have some more laborers sent over from the dam. Give him as many men as he wants; go with him yourself, if he wants you." "What are ye goin' to mine?" "Coal." "Where?" "I've been looking over the land with Pickand; he says we'll sink a shaft at the base of the butte below the mesa, where you are laying tracks now. We won't have to go far, Pickand says. There's coal--thick veins of it--running back into the wall of the butte." "All right, sir," said Carson. But he scratched his head in perplexity, eyeing Corrigan sidelong. "Ye woudn't be sayin' that ye'll be diggin' for coal on the railroad's right av way, wud ye?" "No!" snapped Corrigan. "Thin it will be on Trevison's land. Have ye bargained wid him for it?" "No! Look here, Carson. Mind your own business and do as you're told!" "I'm elicted, I s'pose; but it's a job I ain't admirin' to do. If ye've got half the sinse I give ye credit for havin', ye'll be lettin' that mon Trevison alone--I'd a lot sooner smoke a segar in that shed av dynamite than to cross him!" Corrigan smiled and turned to look in the direction in which the Irishman was pointing. A small, flat-roofed frame building, sheathed with corrugated iron, met his view. Crude signs, large enough to be read hundreds of feet distant, were affixed to the walls: "CAUTION. DYNAMITE." "Do you keep much of it there?" "Enough for anny blastin' we have to do. There's plenty--half a ton, mebbe." "Who's got the key?" "Meself."