But at that the engineer protested. "No, no!" he said. "I haven't half done justice to the subject. There are a dozen men in Kyak to-night who could put up a much stronger case than I. There's McCann, for instance. He was a prospector back in the States until he made a strike which netted him a hundred thousand dollars. He put nearly all of it into Kyak coal claims and borrowed seventy thousand more. He got tired of the interminable delay and finally mined a few tons which he sent out for a test in the navy. It had better steaming qualities than the Eastern coal now being used, but six weeks later an agent of the Land Office ordered him to cease work until his title had been passed upon. That was two years ago, and nothing has been done since. No charges of irregularity of any sort have ever been filed against McCann or his property. The Government has had his money for five years, and still he can't get a ruling. He's broke now and too old to make a living. He's selling pies on the street--" "He borrowed a dollar from me just now," said O'Neil, who was staring out of a window. Suddenly he turned and addressed his host. "Trevor, it's going to storm." His voice was harsh, his eyes were eager; his tone brought the engineer to his side. Together they looked out across the bay. The southern sky was leaden, the evening had been shortened by a rack of clouds which came hurrying in from the sea. "Let it storm," said Trevor, after a moment. "I'm ready." "Have you ever seen it blow here?" "The old-timers tell me I haven't, but--I've seen some terrible storms. Of course the place is unusual--" "In what way?" Eliza inquired. "The whole country back of here is ice-capped. This coast for a hundred miles to the east is glacial. The cold air inland and the warm air from the Japanese Current are always at war." "There is a peculiar difference in air-pressures, too," O'Neil explained. "Over the warm interior it is high, and over the coast range it is low; so every valley becomes a pathway for the wind. But that isn't where the hurricanes come from. They're born out yonder." He pointed out beyond the islands from which the breakwater flung its slender arm. "This may be only a little storm, Trevor, but some day the sea and the air will come together and wipe out all your work. Then you'll see that I was right." "You told me that more than a year ago, but I backed my skill against your prophecy." O'Neil answered him gravely: "Men like you and me become over-confident of our powers; we grow arrogant, but after all we're only pygmies." "If Nature beats me here, I'm a ruined man," said the engineer. "And if you defeat her, I'm ruined." O'Neil smiled at him.