"Your name is Nolan, I think," said a man from the Denver. "We've heard of you. Shiner's boy is better, though still weak. You mustn't feel we left you to shift for yourselves up there. Our men were all out, and we didn't know how soon they'd be swooping on us. 'Twasn't until last night it was generally known that you were back, and that you and your friends were what saved Cawker and the Silver Shield yesterday. How's he?"
"Cawker? Oh, Cawker's probably about got dinner ready for you gentlemen by this time. If you are sure about Shiner we won't go down."
"Go down? Why, Nolan, they'd murder you!"
But there came a sudden shot, and then a shout, from somewhere uphill. On the edge of the dump a man was eagerly waving his hat, pointing away to the northeast along the massive slope of the mountain.
"Well, Mr. Fireman," said Nolan, "I guess we'll have to go back. But you are sure about Shiner, are you?"—this again to the visitors, as he persisted in calling them. "Well, come right along up and see the old man himself. Dinner ought to be ready now."
But, once back at the buildings, Nolan left to Cawker and his guard the pleasure of receiving the crowd from across the creek. He and Geordie were needed at once at the lookout on top of the office, the little tower above which fluttered the flag. Down on the platform anxious faces were upturned, for the sentry had seen a countless throng of men, so he said, coming over from Miners' Joy. To Cawker and his fellows it meant but one thing: The miners in the northward valley, more numerous than these along Lance Creek, reinforced, probably, by a swarm of the idlers from Hatch's Cove, were coming to the aid of their friends and fellow-countrymen in the strike at Silver Shield.
For two miles out the road from the village meandered up a winding ravine, then went twisting and turning along the eastward face of the mountain until it dipped out of sight over the massive divide. Down in the depths of the gorge little dots of men could be seen hurrying away up the trail as though going to meet the coming concourse. Away out along the mountain-side not to exceed three or four vehicles and a scant dozen of horsemen could dimly be made out, crawling slowly southward, coming gingerly towards them. Where, then, was the "countless throng"?
"They were in sight on yonder ridge," said the lookout, "not ten minutes ago. They must be hiding in the hollows, waiting for the others to catch up," whereupon Nolan, looking daggers, had called him a scarehead, and Geordie shouted for Cawker's glass. It was sent up the stairway in less than a minute and focussed on Porphyry Point, a massive buttress overhanging the farther valley. For long seconds Geordie steadied the binocular against the staff and peered silently through. At last he said: "Some riders and two or three livery-rigs are coming, but I see no men afoot." Then, turning over his shoulder to Cawker, standing in the midst of his friends and fellow-managers, and looking eagerly aloft, he called: "Better have dinner now, if it's ready. It will take 'em an hour to get here."
"Who is that young fellow, anyhow?" asked Townsend, of the Vanguard Mine, and the ears of a score of men awaited the answer.
"That young feller," said Cawker, in low tone, and impressively, "was a stranger to every one here, except old Nolan and Shiner, just twenty-four hours ago. Now there ain't one of 'em but swears by him. I don't know him from Adam, and Nolan won't tell, but, gentlemen—that young feller's a dandy!"