"I've been too busy; this thing has kept me here every hour. It's my child, and one can't neglect his own child, you know--even if it isn't a real one." He laughed apologetically. "See! there's where we took the skiff that day we ran Jackson Glacier. He's harmless enough now. You annoyed me dreadfully that morning, Eliza, and--I've never quite understood why you were so reckless." "I wanted the sensation. Writers have to live before they can write. I've worked the experience into my novel." "Indeed? What is your book about?" "Well--it's the story of a railroad-builder, of a fellow who risked everything he had on his own judgment. It's--you!" "Why, my dear!" cried O'Neil, turning upon her a look of almost comic surprise. "I'm flattered, of course, but there's nothing romantic or uncommon about me." "You don't mind?" "Of course not. But there ought to be a hero, and love, and--such things--in a novel. You must have a tremendous imagination." "Perhaps. I'm not writing a biography, you know. However, you needn't be alarmed; it will never be accepted." "It should be, for you write well. Your magazine articles are bully." Eliza smiled. "If the novel would only go as well as those stories I'd be happy. They put Gordon on the defensive." "I knew they would." "Yes. I built a nice fire under him, and now he's squirming. I think I helped you a little bit, too." "Indeed you did--a great deal! When you came to Omar I never thought you'd turn out to be my champion. I--" He turned as Dr. Gray came hurrying toward them, panting in his haste. The doctor began abruptly: "I've been looking for you, Murray. The men are all quitting." O'Neil started. "All quitting? What are you talking about?" "There's a stampede--a gold stampede!" Murray stared at the speaker as if doubting his own senses. "There's no gold around here," he said, at last. "Two men came in last night. They've been prospecting over in the White River and report rich quartz. They've got samples with 'em and say there are placer indications everywhere. They were on their way to Omar to tell their friends, and telephoned in from here. Somebody overheard and--it leaked. The whole camp is up in the air. That's what brought out that gang from town this morning." The significance of the incidents which had troubled him earlier in the day flashed upon O'Neil; it was plain enough now why his men had been gossiping and buying dogs and fur robes. He understood only too well what a general stampede would mean to his plans, for it would take months to replace these skilled iron-workers. "Who are these prospectors?" he inquired, curtly. "Nobody seems to know. Their names are Thorn and Baker. That gang from Omar has gone on, and our people will follow in the morning. Those who can't scrape up an outfit here are going into town to equip. We won't have fifty men on the job by to-morrow night." "What made Baker and Thorn stop here?"