"All I understand from your letter," ran the note, "is that it has given me a chance to make my getaway. It was a mighty white thing of you to do, and I appreciate it, though I know I haven't acted that way. You've probably found out what my name is by this time. I didn't tell you, because I was so dead ashamed about the whole matter that I hated to face myself and disgrace the name. But I never thought father would do such a thing as he has, and so I shall clear out and stay cleared until he has stopped hunting. I know where I'm going, and you'll see me in Meadow Creek after father goes back and has given me up.--LESLIE JONES QUINN." Ross, standing on the dump beside the dynamite box, a hammer in one hand, read the letter. At once all his remaining resentment against Leslie disappeared. "I guess I would have done the same about the name in his place," he concluded. Pinning the note in his pocket again for safe keeping he repaired the dynamite box. Then he entered the tunnel, where Weimer was once more at work drilling for a blast. "Uncle Jake," he asked, "when did Leslie leave, what time in the day?" "It vas not day, it vas night," growled Weimer wrestling with the drill. "He vent avay mit darkness." "That accounts," said Ross, "for his not having been seen in camp." He felt certain that Leslie would take refuge in the shack up Wood River canon where Wilson had stored some of the supplies in preparation for the winter's work on the coal claims. In this case he would be discovered, for it was in that direction that the sheriff and Sandy had gone as Ross was climbing the Crosby trail. Therefore, it was with anxiety that the boy looked for the return of the McKenzies. Darkness had fallen when he left the tunnel that night, and as he emerged from the trees that clustered about the dump, he saw a light in the McKenzie cabin. Without waiting for his supper, he crossed the little valley and rapped on the door. "Hello, Doc," came Sandy's voice from within. "Haul up the latch-string and show yerself. Comin' to crow over us, ain't ye?" he continued as Ross entered. "Well, that ye can, fer we can't find hide ner hair of Leslie, and the sheriff has hit the trail to Basin about as mad as they make 'em over the whole thing!" Here Sandy threw his head back and laughed as amusedly as though the entire affair were a joke of his own manufacture. He did not seem to harbor the least resentment against Ross for having blocked the wheels of his game. Rather, he applauded the blocking frankly, while Waymart smoked stolidly beside the table and said nothing.