Waymart lifted his eyes the fraction of a moment, and encountered Sandy's. A peculiar expression passed between them. Then Waymart's gaze fell again on the Camp, and Sandy replied carelessly to Ross: "After you git the work done in your tunnel better strike some of these trails, but not in winter. They ain't safe, especially for a tenderfoot." "But in the summer," returned Ross absently, "I don't expect to be here." "Oh--that so?" and Sandy gave the sled a careless push. Waymart drew the rope over his shoulder, and once more the trio descended the trail. At the upper camp Ross left the brothers to purchase their supplies while he visited the post-office and Steele. At the former place he found a note to himself from Leslie's father and a bulkier letter addressed to Leslie in his care. Mr. Quinn had received both of Ross's letters, he wrote, the last with the enclosure from Leslie. He had taken the steps necessary to recall the warrant, which, he explained, had seemed to him the "surest and quickest way of fetching the boy home," and would allow Leslie to return to Ross as his note indicated that he desired. On his return Ross was to give up the letter put in his care. Mr. Quinn closed his communication with thanks to Ross for the trouble he had been to, also, for his assurance that Leslie was boning down to work! Two weeks had elapsed since Leslie disappeared. Nothing had been seen of him nor heard of him in either the upper or lower camps, and Ross returned to Meadow Creek troubled in spirit. "I'm afraid," he told himself as he helped the McKenzies haul their supplies up the trail, "that I've made even a bigger mess of it all the way around than I thought at first." Steele, from his doorway, watched Ross out of sight that afternoon, with a pleased smile on his bearded lips. He was a tanned and freckled Ross now. Sun and wind and work in the open for two months had left their marks on the boy. He stood straighter, walked more firmly, and had laid on pounds of muscle. "He's put himself through good and plenty, as well as holding Uncle Jake's nose to the grindstone," concluded Steele, turning back into the cabin. On the making of the sled he had commented but briefly to Ross, realizing how much the presence of the McKenzies meant to the boy. To himself he thought, however: "That Sandy McKenzie! How he does manage to make other folks do his work!" * * * * * During the week which followed, a stranger passed through Miners' Camp. He was seen by only one man, "Society Bill," who belonged to the Gale's Ridge outfit. "He asked the way to the Meader Creek trail," Society Bill told Steele. "Now, I wonder if he's a new one of them McKenzies. I never set my two eyes on 'im before." "Horseback?" asked Steele. "Yep. Decent sort of bronc he rode. Told me to tell Bill Travers to drive it down below to-morrow if it got down this far."