He followed her trail to where it had been trampled out by the watchman in making his regular rounds; and then, below the mill, he picked it up again as it went on down the path. Not once had she hesitated or turned from the beaten trail, but she had gone down after the graveyard shift. That went on at eleven and her tracks were superimposed on the hob-nailed boot-marks of the miners. When they had come off shift they had trampled them out again, except for a print here and there; and by the color of the dust Wiley shrewdly judged that she had visited him between twelve and one. Between the wind-blown footprints of the night-shift and the fresh red of the day shift as they had mounted the trail at seven, her high-arched steps had been made about midnight, for the dust had been whitened by the air. Wiley followed them silently, trampling them out as he went, and that night as the graveyard shift came on he slipped out and hid by the trail. What kind of a watchman was this, who let a woman come and go and never even saw her tracks in the dust? He could watch for Virginia; and meanwhile, incidentally, he could keep tab on this sleepy-headed guard. The _chuh_, _chuh_ of the engine echoed loud in the canyon as the hoist brought up the first cars, and then the rumble of the trams as they were pushed down the track and the clatter of the ore down the grizzly. A sharp _blap_, _blap_, from the compressor showed that the machine-men had set up their drills; and beneath all the rest there was the hushed rumble of the mill and the thunderous _rhump_, _rhump_, of the rock-breaker. It was a ponderous affair of the old jaw-type, surmounted by a fly-wheel of a full ton's weight that drove it rhythmically on; and as Wiley listened it made a music for his ears as sweet as any bass viol. In this mine of his there was an orchestration of busy sounds, from the clang of the bell to start or stop the engine, to this deep, rumbling undertone of the crusher; and every clang and crunch brought him that much nearer to the day when he would be free. He took shelter within the black mouth of a short tunnel by the trail and looked out at his little world--the huge mill, dimly lighted, the gaunt gallows-frame against the sky, and the sleeping town below. He had made them his own and now he must fight for them; and watch over them, day and night. Above him the stars shone out clean and cold, a million of them in the dry, desert air; and in the east the half moon rose up slowly above Gold Hill, where the wealth of ages lay hid. It had given up its gold but his hand had struck the blow that would open up its treasure vaults of tungsten. All it needed now was watchfulness and patience. The moon rose up higher and he dozed within the shadow and then a sound brought him to with a start. It was the crunch of gravel on the trail before him and as he looked out he saw Virginia. CHAPTER XXII VIRGINIA EXPLAINS--NOTHING