“Well, well, lassie, we will see what can be done for your gentleman engineer,” he said encouragingly; “but don’t be ‘o’er the border and awa’’ with Jock, till we know a little more about him, and about what is thought of him in Hazeldean.” CHAPTER V “Oh, Loring. Have you heard the news?” Stephen, on his way to breakfast, on the morning of the Fourth of July, stopped until McKay joined him. “No. What is the matter?” “There is to be a half holiday to-day,” went on McKay. “The devil there is! I did not know that such things existed this side of heaven.” “In which case you would never see one,” laughed McKay. “But to-day there is to be one. In my opinion, we owe it to Miss Cameron’s influence with her father. Every one can knock off work at twelve o’clock. Look at the notice!” On the office wall, beneath the usual “_No Entrada—Oficina_,” was a big placard which conveyed the news in English and Spanish. Stephen read it with satisfaction. “I think that will make breakfast taste rather well. What is your opinion, Mac?” “That comes pretty close to my jedgments,” answered McKay. “Hey, Wah, you crazy Chinaman; quit hammering that gong!” This last was addressed to Hop Wah, who was standing on the porch of the eating house, hammering with a railroad spike upon an iron gong. “Me hab to. Else me lazy pig bludders allee late. La, la, boom, boom! Breakfas’. Nice hot cakes. Oh, lubbly, lubbly cakes; eggs this mornin’. Goodee canned eggs. Oh, lubbly; la, la”—Wah fled precipitately into the kitchen, as Loring and McKay made gestures of killing him. They were the first at the mess, and while the sleepy stragglers filed in, one by one, they ate their oatmeal in comfort. They took a lazy pleasure in watching the surprise, and listening to the ejaculations, with which the news of the half holiday was received. “Thin Jim,” who always presided at the head of the table, on account of his so-called “boarding house arm,” which enabled him to be of vast service as a waiter, professed to be so astounded at the news as to be incapable of performing his duties. “What with a dance on Washington’s birthday, and a half holiday to-day, why, we’re becomin’ sort of a leisure class,” he remarked. “Well, look out that you don’t deteriorate under the strain,” laughed Loring. “Has any one a match?” The only real system in all Loring’s habits of life was his custom of rising early enough to have time for a smoke between breakfast and work. In the afternoon the camp was alive with shouts and hilarity. On the slag dump two baseball games were in progress, of such excitement that the umpires had early withdrawn; while some one had established in the gulch an impromptu shooting gallery, whence the quick rattle of reports told of financial success. Stephen sat with Duncan on the steps of the assay office while the latter checked up his figures for the morning’s work.