"See here, Ross, that clearness business has reminded me of something that I noticed in the morning, and, because I thought it couldn't be true, I paid but little attention. But now I know--well, this is what it was: when I reached the dump I glanced across the valley at the McKenzie shack. It seemed completely buried in snow except the roof and the chimney stovepipe, and at first I imagined that I saw heat coming out of that stovepipe! You know how, after a hot fire, the heat will crinkle the air above a chimney and no smoke in sight?" "That's so!" exclaimed Ross. "And you think----" "At the time I thought it was a mere notion of mine, but now I believe I saw correctly, and that Weston was there waiting to dispose of my case." "That's the idea," agreed Ross excitedly. "There all the time after he left me, probably. He had likely got him a hot breakfast before you were up and then let the fire die." Leslie nodded. "Same as I did when I was hiding down in Miners' Camp. But, anyway, I didn't investigate and forgot all about that chimney until this minute." Here Leslie broke off to ask abruptly, "Another thing, Ross, right here before I forget. The day you left, you remember Uncle Jake was sick and you went down to get dinner and left me in the tunnel?" "Yes." "Well, only a few minutes after you left I looked out and you, as I supposed then, stood in the mouth of the tunnel----" "Nope, 'twas Weston," interrupted Ross. "He said he went up there first. He came to the shack from that direction." "Then he got a squint at the work and the dynamite and your assistant right then! I thought it was queer I didn't get an answer when I yelled to know if you had dinner ready. But just as I spoke, the figure took a sneak, and I supposed you had just stopped a bit to look things over." "Weston was attending to that, evidently," retorted Ross promptly. "But now let's see--you've brought the happenings up to to-day, haven't you?" "Not quite," Leslie answered. "I'll be there in a minute, though. Yesterday I got as uneasy as Weimer over your not getting back, and Miller, or Weston, I mean, not coming as he promised. I confess I was in a blue funk by afternoon, and I saw things were shaping for another storm. I went slipping and sliding out beside the dump a dozen times where I could look over to Soapweed Ledge while Uncle Jake tramped around outside the shack continually watching for you." "Poor Uncle Jake!" muttered Ross stirring uneasily.