"For information only," was the brusque reply. "You have a stake in the country and a good name to maintain. I have nothing. But you can tell me a few things. Are our workmen still on the ground?" "Yes. Ginty said there were only a few stragglers who came to town with him. Most of the two shifts are staying on to get their pay--or until they find out that they aren't going to get it." "And the colonel and Williams: the marshal is holding them out at the dam?" "Uh-huh; locked up in the office shack, Ginty says." "Good. I shan't need the colonel, but I shall need Williams. Now another question: you know Sheriff Harding fairly well, don't you? What sort of a man is he?" "Square as a die, and as nervy as they make 'em. When he gets a warrant to serve, he'll bring in his man, dead or alive." "That's all I'll ask of him. Now go and find me an auto, and then you can fade away and get ready to prove a good, stout _alibi_." "Yes--like fits I will!" retorted the mine owner. "I told you once, John, that I was in this thing to a finish, and I meant it. Go on giving your orders." "Very well; you've had your warning. The next thing is the auto. I want to catch Judge Warner before he goes to bed. I'll telephone while you're getting a car." Starbuck had no farther to go than to the garage where he had put up his new car, and when he got it and drove to the Kinzie Building, Smith came out of the shadow of the entrance to mount beside him. "Drive around to the garage again and let me try another 'phone," was the low-spoken request. "My wire isn't working." The short run was quickly made, and Smith went to the garage office. A moment later a two-hundred-pound policeman strolled up to put a huge foot on the running-board of the waiting auto. Starbuck greeted him as a friend. "Hello, Mac. How's tricks with you to-night?" "Th' tricks are even, an' I'm tryin' to take th' odd wan," said the big Irishman. "'Tis a man named Smith I'm lookin' for, Misther Starbuck--J. Mon-tay-gue Smith; th' fi-nanshal boss av th' big ditch comp'ny. Have ye seen 'um?" Starbuck, looking over the policeman's shoulder, could see Smith at the telephone in the garage office. Another man might have lost his head, but the ex-cow-puncher was of the chosen few whose wits sharpen handily in an emergency. "He hangs out at the Hophra House a good part of the time in the evenings," he replied coolly. "Hop in and I'll drive you around." Three minutes later the threatening danger was a danger pushed a little way into the future, and Starbuck was back at the garage curb waiting for Smith to come out. Through the window he saw Smith replacing the receiver on its hook, and a moment afterward he was opening the car door for his passenger. "Did you make out to raise the judge?" he inquired, as Smith climbed in. "Yes. He will meet me at his chambers in the court-house as soon as he can drive down from his house."