He hobbled and shouldered his way through the men and entered the pit. A few rocks had dropped from the roof, luckily falling in a far corner beyond where the men were working. But Toppy saw at once how serious this petty accident was; for the whole roof of the cave now was loosened, and as sure as the men pounded and pried at the rocks beneath they would bring a shower of stone down upon their heads. “Like rats in a trap,” he thought. “Hi!” he called. “Get out of here. Get out!” Down near the dam he had noticed a huge pile of old timbers which probably had been used for piling while the dam was being put in. Thither he now led his men, and shouldering the largest piece himself he hobbled back to the cave followed by the gang, each bearing a timber. A sudden change had come over the men as he indicated what he was going to do. They moved more rapidly. Their terror was gone. Some of them smiled, and some talked excitedly. Under Toppy’s direction they went to work with a vim shoring up the loosened roof of the cave. It was only a half-hour’s work to place the props so that the men working beneath were free of any serious danger from above. Toppy could sense the change of feeling toward him that had come over the men as they saw the timbers go into place, and he was forced to admit that it warmed him comfortably. They sprang eagerly to obey his slightest behest, and the gratitude in their faces was pitiful to behold. “Now jump!” said Toppy when the roof was safely propped. “Hustle and make up the time we’ve lost.” As he came out of the cave the place fairly rang with noise as the men furiously tore loose the rock and dumped it in the barrows. Toppy took a long breath and wiped his brow. The hawk-nosed guard spat in disgust. “Will you do me a favour?” said Toppy, suddenly swinging toward him. “What is it?” asked the man. “Take a message to Mr. Reivers from me. Tell him your services are no longer required at this spot. Tell him I said you looked like a fool, standing up there with your bum gun. Tell him—” Toppy, despite his sore ankle, had swung up the rise and was beside the guard before the latter thought of making a move—“that I said I’d throw you and your gun in the river if you didn’t duck. And for your own information—” Toppy was towering over the man—“I’ll do it right now, unless you get out of here—quick!” The guard’s shifty eyes tried to meet Toppy’s and failed. Against the Slavs he would have dared to use his gun; they were his inferiors. Against Toppy he did not dare even so much as to think of the weapon, and without it he was only a jail-rat, afraid of men who looked him in the eyes. “The boss sent me here,” he said sullenly. Toppy leaned forward until his face was close to the guard’s. The man shrank. “Duck!” said Toppy. That was all. The guard moved away with an alacrity that showed how uncomfortable the spot had become to him. “You’ll hear about this!” he whined from a distance.