“One of our men?” Nash questioned, concerned over the news, but not surprised, as accidents, from one cause or another, among the thousand-odd laborers were frequent. “I don’t think so,” was the reply. “I heard some of the others talking about it. Guess he was known to some of them.” “I’ll be over right away,” Nash said. He had his pony brought around to the cabin, and in less than half an hour was at the scene. Pushing his way through the crowd which had gathered about the body, he suddenly caught his breath in astonishment. The dead man was the old subforeman, under whom he had worked that first day--Macmillan! “Give me the details,” he demanded abruptly of the nearest subforeman. “The body was brought in about an hour ago,” the latter hurriedly explained. “Some few of us older men recognized Macmillan right away. One of the watchmen found him at the foot of the high cliff back there. Must have been an accident; don’t you think so?” Nash followed the speaker’s finger. He saw the cliff mentioned; and, on its edge, winding down to the valley, ran the black pipe line. Then, like a flash of fire from a cloudless sky, the truth came to Nash. Macmillan had been the mysterious stranger of last night; the man with the hammer; the man Miss Breen had warned! No doubt he had been the one who had destroyed the pipe several nights previous. After the girl’s warning Macmillan had dashed away, probably lost his bearings in the darkness, and by accident stepped off the cliff. Once he had examined the body carefully Nash was positive that these suspicions were correct. As conclusive evidence, the white, wide-brimmed sombrero with the silver ornaments on the band was brought in by the same watchman who had discovered the body. “Found this hanging on a bush about ten feet from the top of the cliff,” the watchman declared, answering Nash’s questions. “Guess the fellow made a try at the bush himself--half of it is missing. Only the hat stuck.” Nash finally gave directions for the removal of the body, and watched as two Italians carried it to a wagon, preparatory to its being sent on to camp. A few necessary requirements and forms had to be observed--the notification of the county sheriff being the principal one; and after that, Macmillan’s body, unless claimed by relatives, would share the barren plot on the mountainside with the hundred-odd others who had met death, by fair means or foul, in Camp Forty-seven. All the remainder of that day Macmillan’s death was on Nash’s mind. It wasn’t so much the final tragedy that worried him, as the events leading up to it. Revenge, doubtless, had been the motive. It was quite natural, after his discharge and his words with Hooker, that the former subforeman should seek revenge. Being interested in the construction of the conduit, and realizing full well that the loss of water would prove a serious blow, Macmillan had determined upon this damaging method.