scarcely exchanged a word with anyone, eating silently, his eyes
downcast. Kirby, however, was the life of the company, and the miners
roared at his humorous stories, and anecdotes of adventure--while
outside it grew dark, and the little _Warrior_ struggled cautiously
through the waters, seeking the channel in the gloom.




CHAPTER IV

THE END OF THE GAME

Unconscious that the stage had thus been set for a great life drama, a
drama in which, through strange circumstances, I was destined to play
my part, amid stirring scenes of Indian war, and in surroundings that
would test my courage and manhood to the utter-most; yet, although I
heard it not, the hour had already struck, and I stood on the brink of
a tragedy beyond my power to avert.

I left the others still seated about the table, and returned alone to
the outer deck. I had no plans for the evening, and retain now only
slight recollection as to the happenings of the next few hours, which I
passed quietly smoking in the darkened pilot house, conversing
occasionally with Thockmorton, who clung to the wheel, carefully
guiding his struggling boat through the night-draped waters. The skill
with which he found passage through the enshrouding gloom, guided by
signs invisible to my eyes, aided only by a fellow busily casting a
lead line in the bows, and chanting the depth of water, was amazing.
Seemingly every flitting shadow brought its message, every faint