Ross related the incident haltingly. "Sandy didn't act as though he had ever seen you before. It was only Waymart," he said consolingly, but it was plain to be seen that the other was not consoled. "It's possible, very possible that they may have seen me--I wouldn't have noticed them," he muttered, "if they were--that is, father hired any number of men--they might all see me and I not notice them." "Maybe I can find out," offered Ross promptly. "I'll ask them." "No, no!" hastily; "don't bother with the matter." Leslie crossed the room, threw open the door and stood staring across the valley at the McKenzie shack. When next he spoke he did not look around: "It will be just as well, Grant, if you don't mention me to 'em until----" There ensued a long pause. Then, "until I talk with you again." Just before he left he asked abruptly, "Do you bring the Omaha papers back with you every Sunday?" "I can," replied Ross, "if you want 'em. But, see here, Jones, why don't you go over to Camp with me next Sunday?" Leslie hesitated. "Guess I will. Good-night." A few steps from the door he turned back. "See here, Grant, don't wait for me Sunday. If I go I'll be here by eight o'clock. But if I don't go, I should like to see the Omaha papers." "All right, I'll fetch them," returned Ross. Sunday morning he postponed his start for Miners' Camp until past eight o'clock, hoping that Leslie would come, but no Leslie appeared. Sandy did, however. He came freshly shaved and combed, with a new kerchief knotted about his neck. "Want some good company over t' Camp?" he inquired jocularly. "If ye do, here it is, fer I'm goin' out." "Going to stay long or just for the day?" asked Ross. "Oh, I dunno how long," carelessly. "I've got t' see Cody again. Little old town couldn't fetch it if I didn't hang around it about once in so often." "Is Waymart going?" "Nope, Mart will hold the cabin and claims down here. Mart don't like t' hit th' trail as often as I do. He's fer his pipe and a soft bunk and a good meal. Mart 'ud be a failure as one of these here globe-trotters. He's what ye could call domestic in his tastes. The only thing he lacks," here Sandy chuckled at his own wit, "is a blamed thing to be domestic about!" As they were making their way cautiously around the shoulder of Crosby, Sandy asked suddenly, "Why don't that young Jones go t' Camp ever on Sunday? Guess they don't work Sundays up t' th' Wilson claims. I should think he'd be as wild as you be t' git over this side of Crosby where there's a post-office and newspapers and things." "I don't know," returned Ross in a general denial of knowledge of all Sandy had said. "I wonder about that young feller now," pursued Sandy affably. "So do I!" thought Ross. He said nothing. "I wonder how he come t' drop out of nowhere with money enough t' grub-stake the two of 'em fer six months--and then have nothin' further t' draw on!" Sandy, walking now shoulder to shoulder with Ross, looked at him keenly.