It is customary to leave a watchman in the pit during the noon and
midnight hours, not only to see that strangers preserve a neutral
attitude, but also to watch the waste-gates and water supply. The
night man of the Midas had been warned of his responsibility, and,
knowing that much gold lay in his keeping, was disposed to gaze on
the curious-minded with the sourness of suspicion. Therefore, as a
man leading a pack-horse approached out of the gloom of the creek-
trail, his eyes were on him from the moment he appeared. The road
wound along the gravel of the bars and passed in proximity to the
flumes. However, the wayfarer paid no attention to them, and the
watchman detected an explanatory weariness in his slow gait.

"Some prospector getting in from a trip," he thought.

The stranger stopped, scratched a match, and, as he undertook to
light his pipe, the observer caught the mahogany shine of a
negro's face. The match sputtered out and then came impatient
blasphemy as he searched for another.

"Evenin', sah! You-all oblige me with a match?"

He addressed the watcher on the bank above, and, without waiting a
reply, began to climb upward.

No smoker on the trail will deny the luxury of a light to the most
humble, so as the negro gained his level the man reached forth to
accommodate him. Without warning, the black man leaped forward
with the ferocity of an animal and struck the other a fearful
blow. The watchman sank with a faint, startled cry, and the