"Was that all? Didn't the other fellow say anything?"

"No, _señor_; but he swung his horse against me as they went by--he
mighty poor rider."

"No doubt; that is not one of the amusements of the Bowery. Where did
they go? Up to La Rosita?"

"_Si, señor_; I watched, they were there two hour."

Westcott stared into the fireplace; then the gravity of his face
relaxed into a smile.

"Things are growing interesting, José," he said cheerfully. "If I only
knew just which way the cat was about to jump I'd be somewhat happier.
There seemed to be more light than usual across the gulch as I came
up--what's going on?"

"They have put on more men, _señor_--a night shift. Last night I went
in our drift clear to the end, and put my ear to the rock. It was far
away, but I hear."

"No, no, José; that's impossible. Why, their tunnel as over a hundred
yards away; not even the sound of dynamite would penetrate that
distance through solid rock. You heard your heart beat."

"No, _señor_," and José was upon his feet gesticulating. "It was the
pick--strike, strike, strike; then stop an' begin, strike, strike,
strike again. I hear, I know."