They set to work, and it was late in the afternoon when, stripped to shirt and trousers and dripping with perspiration, Joe stopped for a few moments to look about. Thirty feet behind him the creek swirled furiously around a rocky head, the steep face of which was fumed and scarred by giant-powder. A stake was driven into the crest of the promontory, another could be seen a short distance back, and straggling jack-pines and spruces followed the edge of the bank. The ground had been disturbed all round and was strewn with piles of soil and stones. "I guess the Allinson outfit know their business," he observed. "It looks a curious way to pitch a claim, but if you come to figure out the thing, it gives them the best frontage they could get. This corner post's just where I'd have put it. If they'd located it a bit to the right, it would have swung their line off the richest stuff. There's no room for us here on pay dirt: we'll move higher up." He took a few steps forward but stopped suddenly at a sharp crash followed by a puff of vapor that curled up among the rocks ahead. Great fragments leaped out of it, and Joe ran for his life as one large piece that turned over as it sped came toward him. It fell short with a heavy thud and he swung around angrily. "What in thunder are you firing two sticks for where you weren't told?" he cried. "Watkins likes a big charge," grinned his companion. "He's surely rough on giant-powder." The third man came toward them and explained. "That blamed Allinson corner post shoves us back, and I wanted to see if we could squeeze in a block beside them and keep on the ore, though I guess there's not much use in it. If I was a jumper, I'd shift that stake." "You can't do it!" Joe replied promptly. "We're acting square! But when the fumes have cleared, we'll look at what you've got." The examination confirmed his opinion that they were shut out by the Allinson claim, which must be respected, and they moved farther up the lode. It was dusk when they stopped work, and they spent the following morning digging holes and firing shots before deciding on their locations. These they roughly marked with piles of stones, but there were distances to be carefully measured and bearings verified before their stakes were driven, and while they were getting dinner another party arrived. The men were ragged and weary, and the appearance of several was far from prepossessing. "There's Scaith and Nepigon Jim," Watkins exclaimed. "Brought four other fellows with them. They're a tough-looking crowd." The newcomers lighted a fire, and while they prepared a meal their leader strolled across to the other camp. He was a short, wiry man, with keen eyes. "Well, Joe," he said, "you've been over the ground; what's it like?" "Pretty good," Joe answered. "The Allinson gang got first pick and we've had the next, but there's plenty pay dirt left. I suppose you're up here for Mappin? You want to keep off our blocks."