My letters and telegrams East to Cavendish went wrong, and
the news has come back here to those fellows. They know just what
we've struck, and how our tunnel runs; I was fool enough to describe it
all to Cavendish and send him a map of the vein. Now they are driving
their tunnel to get in ahead of us."
He got to his feet, bringing his fist down with such a crash on the
table as to set the lamp dancing.
"But, by God, it's not too late! We've got them yet. The very fact
that Lacy is working a night shift is evidence he hasn't uncovered the
vein. We'll tear open that tunnel the first thing in the morning,
Jose, and I'll make proof of discovery before noon. Then we'll put a
bunch of good men in here, and fight it out, if those lads get ugly.
Come on, let's take a look in there to-night."
He picked up the lamp, and turned. At the same instant a sudden red
glare flamed in the black of the open window, accompanied by a sharp
report. The bullet whizzed past Westcott's head so closely as to sear
the flesh, crashed into the lamp in his hand, extinguishing it, then
struck something beyond.
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