Four hours later the windlass was finished and four men were at work. At the end of the fortnight the windlass had been discarded in favor of a gasoline hoist, and twenty-five men in three shifts were employed upon a chamber of copper carbonate ore. The nearest of the De Smet hills began to take on the appearance of a mining camp; a mess-house and a number of cabins were building. Trees were falling, not only to make room for the new “town” but to timber the mine when the time came to sink or drift. At present those of the miners that could not be housed by the disgusted Oakley occupied tents or rude shacks. Oakley spent the greater part of his time escorting the great six-horse teams from the ranch to the public road, as their drivers showed an indifference to his precious crops only rivalled by Gregory Compton’s. Mark took a week’s vacation after the first carload of ore had been shipped from Pony to the sampling works in Butte and netted $65 a ton. Gregory, who was working with his men, far too impatient and surcharged with energy to walk about as mere manager, paid scant attention to him during the day; but Mark was content to sit on the edge of the cut and smoke and calculate, merely retreating in haste when the men lit the fuses. On the third morning, as he was approaching the mine at dawn with his host, Gregory suddenly announced his intention of sending for a manager; he purposed to sink a shaft on the edge of the chamber in order to determine if the present lode was the top of a vein. “Better take off your coat and go to work,” he added. “Do you good. You’re getting too fat.” “Getting? Thanks. But I don’t mind. You’ve got several hundred thousand dollars in that chamber by the looks of things, but I suppose that wouldn’t satisfy you?” “Lord, no. That is merely the necessary capital to mine the entire hill--or fight the powers that be when they get on to the fact that I’ve got another Anaconda.” “Do you believe it? Big pockets have been found in solitary splendor before this.” “This hill is mineral from end to end,” said Gregory with intense conviction. “And I want to get to the main lode as quickly as possible.” “By the way,” said Mark abruptly, “why don’t you locate your claim?” “Locate? Why, the land’s mine. Patent is all right. My father even patented several placer claims----” “Mining laws are fearful and wonderful things. Judges, with a fat roll in their pockets, have been known to make fearful and wonderful interpretations before this. If you’ve struck a new copper belt--well, the enemy has billions. Better stake off the entire hill, and apply for patents. You may be grey before you get them, but the application is enough----” “It would cost a lot of money, and I don’t like the idea of paying twice over. This is costing thousands----”