Poor Phil! His blood seemed on fire. The sneer; the taunting look; it was like letting a brilliant light shine into a dark place; he knew by that ‘sixth sense,’ intuition, all the treachery of this false friend. He knew who had sent him upon a fool’s errand; he knew who had stolen his first claim, and had some accomplice mark the stake in a false name; a memory of his systematic sponging for more than half a year goaded him to madness; many, very many acts, before unconsidered, came to his mind fraught with meaning. The veins on his forehead stood out like purple cord, and he made a wild lunge at Sam. Sam turned to run; he stepped on a rolling stone and went down helplessly; he lay there glaring up at Phil, fear and vindictive hatred strangely blent in his gaze. Phil stood over him like an avenger: “So! You thought to rob me of this claim as you did of the other, did you?” his voice quivering hoarsely. “You’ve got me down, now strike me!” answered Sam, his eyes glaring wildly, his teeth showing like those of a wild animal. “Yes, I did jump your claim; and I’ve got the papers to show for the Mollie Branscome; the Mollie Branscome! You thought you were awful sly, but I jumped that claim too; your letters to her put me on. She thinks you went East to marry your old love; _we_ are going to be married to-morrow night!” he cried tauntingly; he seemed to have gone insane with rage. As Phil listened to him the fierce anger died out of his face, and contempt took its place; but he only ejaculated: “You contemptible cur!” as he stepped back and folded his arms. The workmen had gathered about, and stood in silent amazement; their looks seemed to anger Sam still more, and he continued his insane taunting: “Oh, you wanted me to take care of your things, didn’t you? I took care of them, oh, yes!” and he thrust his tongue in his cheek derisively. He had risen to his feet by this time, and stood leaning his back against the shafthouse. Phil stood a minute without speaking, pity struggling with contempt in his heart; finally he said slowly, and without a trace of anger: “Well! You’re slopping over pretty freely. If you burned my cabin thinking to destroy my papers, you got left; I took them with me, and you must have forgotten that they are recorded. As to the other affair which you have tangled with your dirty fingers, I think that I can straighten that out all right. You are too contemptible to whip, but I advise you to make yourself scarce.” “I believe he did burn that cabin, because no one has ever been inside of _his_ shack since the fire; probably he has some things there that he’d rather not have seen. I always thought that things looked mighty queer,” said big Cal Wagner. “Let’s all quit work. I’ll not strike another stroke for the likes of ’im,” said Denny Colby. “Say, aren’t you the fellow that took care of this skunk when he was hurt?” asked Cal. “Yes,” tersely replied Phil.