“I know,” said Gibbons, “jes’ what I’m talkin’ about. You have tried to infer that I was mixed up in the robbery of the stage coach, and I say you are an unprincipled old scoundrel, and a liar in the bargain. If I was as strong as I was before I was shot, I’d maul the [176] earth with you. You stole the Peacock mine from Hank Casey an’ me, an’ I’ve my suspicions that you bought judge and jury to beat us in our law suit.” One would have thought that Grim would have become very angry, but instead, he tried to pacify the irate and angry Steve Gibbons. It seemed to anger Gibbons beyond description that he could not disturb the even temper of Rufus Grim, and finally, in a burst of anger at Grim, Gibbons said: “You’d better have your life insured, old man, for somebody’s goin’ to be revenged, and the day of judgment ain’t very far ‘way, nuther.” At this threat, Grim turned quickly and reached for his revolver. Gibbons was unarmed. A moment later, Grim seemed to master himself, and turning away, walked down the street. Hank Casey put his arm through Steve Gibbon’s and led him to the hotel. Gibbons was hilarious, but Casey felt that in his hilarity he had been very indiscreet. The next morning, however, he mounted the stage coach on his regular run between Gold Bluff and Waterville. CHAPTER XXI.—REACHING THE 400 FOOT LEVEL. 9185 N the [177] excitement incident to Col. Bonifield’s cross-cutting into the vein, the stage robbery, and the bewildering evenings spent in the society of Louise, Vance quite forgot about his hopes and fears relative to his investment in Waterville. One evening he was out for a walk near the Bonifields’. Louise was standing on the porch. He lifted his hat, and she waved a dainty little handkerchief, and came down the road to meet him. There was a troubled expression on her face which Vance had never seen before. It cut him to the heart, and he feared some great calamity had befallen her. “Mr. Gilder,” said she, after the morning salutation, “my father is very despondent this morning, and while he desires greatly to see you, yet he is so broken down that I do not know whether he will be able to see anyone until this afternoon.” “Why, what has happened?” asked Vance, in alarm. They were walking along toward the Bonifield residence as they talked. “So you have not heard?” said Louise, looking up with her big, blue eyes. Vance looked at her in astonishment. [178] “You have not heard,” she repeated, “that they have finished cross-cutting?” “No,” replied Vance. “Yes, they have finished the work,” repeated Louise, and then almost broke down in tears. He led her to a seat on the broad porch where the morning sun shone full and warm, and begged her to calm herself, and tell him what had happened to her father. “Is it not quite enough?” said she, looking up at Vance through her tears, “another disappointment is father’s only reward.” Vance was shocked, for this disappointment meant a great deal to him.