"I gave them their chance and they declined; they'll have no other," he stated. "Those men have browbeaten the company long enough. They refused, and as I anticipated that refusal I made preparations accordingly; a hundred and fifty white workmen arrived at Bowenville from Denver this morning and a hundred and fifty more will come to-morrow. They will do the work." The Senator's lips quivered and the upper one lifted in a movement like a snarl, showing tobacco-stained teeth. "The matter isn't closed, understand that," he snapped out. "We have the directors' promise no outside labor shall be brought in here for this job, and the promise shall be kept." "The new men go to work in the morning," Weir said. "You'll repent of this action, young man, you'll repent of it." The Senator seized the whisky bottle and angrily poured himself a second drink. "You'll repent of it as sure as your name is--is--whatever it is." The engineer took a step nearer the older man. His face now was as hard as granite. "Weir is my name," he said. "Did you ever hear it before?" "Weir--Weir?" came in a questioning mutter. "Yes, Weir." The speaker's eyes held the Senator's in savage leash, and a slight tremble presently began to shake the old man. Atkinson and Meyers and even the volatile Mexican lawyer, Martinez, remained unstirring, for in the situation they suddenly sensed something beyond their ken, some current of deep unknown forces, some play of fierce, obscure and fateful passion. A shadow of gray stole over Gordon's lineaments. "You are--are the son of----" came gasping forth. "I am. His son." "And--and----" "And I know what happened thirty years ago in this selfsame room!" The whisky that the Senator had poured into his glass suddenly slopped over his fingers; his figure all at once appeared more aged, hollow, bent. Without further word, with his hand still shaking, he set the glass on the bar, mechanically picked up the law book and walked feebly towards the door. Steele Weir turned his gaze on the saloon-keeper, Vorse. The man's right hand was under the bar and he seemed to be awaiting the engineer's next move, taut, tight-lipped, malignant. "That was for you too, Vorse," was flung at him. "One Weir went out of here, but another has returned." And he led his companions away. CHAPTER II A COMEDY--AND SOMETHING ELSE Towards noon one day a week later Steele Weir, headed for Bowenville in his car, had gained Chico Creek, half way between camp and San Mateo, when he perceived that another machine blocked the ford. About the wheels of the stalled car the shallow water rippled briskly, four or five inches deep; entirely deep enough, by all appearances, to keep marooned in the runabout the girl sitting disconsolately at the wheel.