His head disappeared as if it were a jack-in-the-box, shut down; and the partners paused with anxious eyes and waited for him to reappear. Dick jumped to his feet and walked across to the window. No one was in sight. He went to the farther end of the mess-house and peered through a corner of the nearest pane. Out under the tamaracks the stranger was orating, and punctuating his remarks with a finger tapping in a palm. His words were not audible; but Dick saw that he was at least receiving attention. He returned to the table, and told Bill what he had seen. The latter was perturbed. "It looks as if we were goin' to have an argument, don't it?" he asked, voicing his perplexity. "But about what?" Dick insisted. "We pay the union scale, and, while I don't know, I believe there isn't a man on the Cross that hasn't a card." "Well," replied his partner, "we'll soon see. Finished?" As they walked to the office, men began to hurry across the gulch toward the hoist, others toward the mill, and by the time they were in their cabin the whistle blew. It was but a minute later that they heard someone striding over the porch, and the man they assumed to be the walking delegate entered. He was not of the usual stamp, but appeared intent on his errand. Save for a certain air of craftiness, he was representative and intelligent. He was quietly dressed, and gave the distinct impression that he had come up from the mines, and had known a hammer and drill--a typical "hard-rock man." "Gentlemen," he said, "I am representing the Consolidated Miners' Association." He drew a neat card from a leather case in his pocket, and presented it, and was asked to seat himself. "What can we do for you?" Dick asked, wasting no time on words. "I suppose this mine is fair?" "Yes. It is straight, as far as I know." "It has no agreement." "But we are ready to sign one whenever it is presented." The delegate drew a worn wallet from his pocket, extracted a paper, and tendered it. "I anticipated no trouble," he said, but without smiling or giving any sign of satisfaction. "Would you mind looking that over, and seeing if it meets with your approval?" Dick stepped to the high desk at the side of the room which he had been utilizing as a drawing board, laid the sheet out, and began reading it, while Bill stood up and scanned it across his shoulders. Bill suddenly put a stubby finger on a clause, and mumbled: "That's not right." Dick slowly read it; and, before he had completed the involved wording, the finger again clapped down at another section. "Nor that. Don't stand for it!" "What do you want, anyhow?" Bill demanded, swinging round and facing the delegate. The latter looked at him coolly and exasperatingly for a moment, then said: "What position do you occupy here, my man?" Dick whirled as if he had been struck from behind.