It had been a trying month for them all. Dr. Gray, upon whom the heaviest responsibility rested, had aged visibly under the strain; Parker and Mellen and McKay had likewise become worn and grave as the days passed and they saw disaster approaching. Even Dan was blue; and Sheldon, the light-hearted, had begun to lose interest in his commissary duties. After the storm at Kyak there had been a period of fierce rejoicing, which had ended abruptly with the receipt of O'Neil's curt cablegram announcing the attitude of the Trust. Gloom had succeeded the first surprise, deepening to hopeless despondency through the days that followed. Oddly enough, Slater had been the only one to bear up; under adversity he blossomed into a peculiar and almost offensive cheerfulness. It was characteristic of his crooked temperament that misfortune awoke in him a lofty and unshakable optimism. "You're great on nicknames, ain't you?" he said to Eliza, regarding her with his never-failing curiosity. "Who's this Homer Keim you're always talking about?" "He isn't any more: he WAS. He was a cheerful old Persian poet." "I thought he was Dutch, from the name. Well! Murray's cheerful too. Him and me are alike in that. I'll bet he isn't worrying half so much as Doc and the others." "You think he'll make good?" "He never fails." "But--we can't hold on much longer. Dan says that some of the men are getting uneasy and want their money." Tom nodded. "The men are all right--Doc has kept them paid up; it's the shift bosses. I say let 'em quit." "Has it gone as far as that?" "Somebody keeps spreading the story that we're busted and that Murray has skipped out. More of Gordon's work, I s'pose. Some of the sore-heads are coming in this evening to demand their wages." "Can we pay them?" "Doc says he dassent; so I s'pose they'll quit. He should have fired 'em a week ago. Never let a man quit--always beat him to it. We could hold the rough-necks for another two weeks if it wasn't for these fellows, but they'll go back and start a stampede." "How many are there?" "About a dozen." "I was afraid it was worse. There can't be much owing to them." "Oh, it's bad enough! They've been letting their wages ride, that's why they got scared. We owe them about four thousand dollars." "They must be paid," said Eliza. "It will give Mr. O'Neil another two weeks--a month, perhaps." "Doc's got his back up, and he's told the cashier to make 'em wait." Eliza hesitated, and flushed a little. "I suppose it's none of my business," she said, "but--couldn't you boys pay them out of your own salaries?" Mr. Slater grinned--an unprecedented proceeding which lent his face an altogether strange and unnatural expression. "Salary! We ain't had any salary," he said, cheerfully--"not for months." "Dan has drawn his regularly." "Oh, sure! But he ain't one of us. He's an outsider."