Denny stopped his team. “That so?” he said, grimly. “You expect when it’s laid it will stay, Mr. Ross?” The young man’s eyes narrowed together into a frown; his clean-cut face assumed a more determined expression. “That’s what I expect,” he said. “There’s some talk to indicate it won’t,” said Denny. He was in a black mood, and this young superintendent, who was making his fortune instead of hearing arms, came in for a share of his contempt. “When you hear any such talk, Mr. Denny, discourage it,” said Ross. “The men won’t gain by fighting with us over this matter.” “I guess,” observed Denny, brutally, “that if you were any good for fighting you would be elsewhere, Mr. Ross. Get up, boys!” He cracked his whip and walked on beside his horses. [Illustration: “THREE OF US WERE RIDING DOWN THE SLOPE OF THE GREAT, GRASSY HILLS”—page 269 _From the drawing by W. H. D. Koerner_] “That brought the blood to his face, didn’t it?” he said to the boy, with a laugh. Beside the road and up over the rising meadows ran a ridge of freshly turned earth. “It looks,” said the boy, after a silence, “as if we wouldn’t make many more trips.” “Yes. Once they begin pumping oil through that pipe-line, it’s back to the farm for you and me. Well—teaming has been a lift for me, anyway, this winter.” “I’ve got three hundred dollars all my own,” said the boy, proudly. “It will start me in at college some time—when father comes home.” “It’s more, I guess, than a good many have saved up.” Denny glanced back along the line of wagons. “And when they’re cut off from their day’s work—I expect there will be trouble.” The teamsters observed no great secrecy in expressing their emotions and in making threats. In consequence of specific declarations which he had heard, at nine o’clock that night Denny was crossing the Drasnoe oil-field, following the ridge that denoted the pipe-line. As he walked, he kept his eyes on the ridge, intent for any sign that it had been tampered with. After he had gone a mile he came to a strip of woods, through which the pipe-line was laid, although at this point the road diverged and made a circuit. The woods were not more than half a mile in area, and except for another clump of forest six miles distant, near the railway station, made the only secluded spot through which the pipe-line passed. The teamsters all lived in the vicinity of the Drasnoe field. “They won’t go six miles to cut pipe,” Denny thought. “Right here’s the place to catch ’em.” The sky had cleared during the afternoon; it was a mild, clear night, with a moon that showed the road from the edge of the woods for some distance. Denny sat down on a log, lighted the lantern he had brought, and taking a book from his pocket, began to read. Presently he looked up, and made out a figure approaching across the fields, following the pipe-line. He shielded the lantern and waited. When the approaching man entered the woods he stepped out to meet him.