There followed some moments of whisperings Try as he would, Reade could not make out a word of what was being said until at last Bad Pete muttered audibly, in a low, hoarse voice: “You’re not doing that on your own account, Black?” “No, Pete; I’m not.” “Then you must really be working for the road that wants to steal the charter away---the W.C. & A.?” “Perhaps so, Pete. You don’t need to know that. All you have to know is what I want done. I’m a business man, Pete, and money is the soul of business. Here!” Black peeled some banknotes from his roll. “Ten twenties, Pete. That makes the two hundred I was talking to you about. Understand, man, that isn’t your pay. That’s simply your expense money, for you to spend while you’re hanging about. Stick to me, do things just as I want them done, and your pay will run several times as high as your expense money.” “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for this sort o’ thing, pardner?” Pete inquired huskily. “No; of course not,” rejoined ’Gene Black rather impatiently. “All my life,” returned Bad Pete solemnly. “Pardner, I’ll sell myself to you for the money you’ve been talking about.” “Come along, then. We’re too near the camp. I want to talk with you where we’re not so likely to be interfered with by people who have too much curiosity.” “If that means me,” quoth Tom Reade inwardly, “the shoe fits to a nicety.” Tom followed the pair for a little way, with a stealth that was born in him for the present need. Then the plotters stepped into a rocky, open gully, where the cub engineer could not have followed without being seen. “Oh, dear! I never wanted to follow anyone as much in my life!” groaned Reade in his disappointment. There was nothing to do but to go back. Then, too, with a guilty start, Tom remembered the great need of ice for poor, fever-tossed, big-hearted Bill Blaisdell, who had been so kind to the two cubs from the hour of their arrival in the field camp. Just as he stepped into the camp area Tom espied Jack Rutter, who also saw him and came quickly forward. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Reade,” said Rutter, in a tone that was close to carrying reproach with it. “I’ve been absent on real business, Rutter,” Tom answered, with a flush, nevertheless. “Mr. Blaisdell must have ice a lot of it.” “Great Scott! Where shall we find it in these mountains in midsummer?” Rutter demanded. “We’ve got to have it, haven’t we?” Tom urged. “It will be the first thing that the doctor will call for.” “Then he should bring it with him,” returned Rutter. “Would you want the doctor to be hampered with a ton or so of ice!” asked Reade. “Would we need that much?” Rutter seemed hopelessly ignorant in such matters. “I imagine we’d want a lot of it,” Tom answered. “By the way, Mr. Rutter-----” “Well?” Jack inquired.