“All my life,” returned Bad Pete solemnly.  “Pardner, I’ll sell myself to you for the money you’ve been talking about.”

“Come along, then.  We’re too near the camp.  I want to talk with you where we’re not so likely to be interfered with by people who have too much curiosity.”

“If that means me,” quoth Tom Reade inwardly, “the shoe fits to a nicety.”

Tom followed the pair for a little way, with a stealth that was born in him for the present need.  Then the plotters stepped into a rocky, open gully, where the cub engineer could not have followed without being seen.

“Oh, dear!  I never wanted to follow anyone as much in my life!” groaned Reade in his disappointment.

There was nothing to do but to go back.  Then, too, with a guilty start, Tom remembered the great need of ice for poor, fever-tossed, big-hearted Bill Blaisdell, who had been so kind to the two cubs from the hour of their arrival in the field camp.

Just as he stepped into the camp area Tom espied Jack Rutter, who also saw him and came quickly forward.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Reade,” said Rutter, in a tone that was close to carrying reproach with it.

“I’ve been absent on real business, Rutter,” Tom answered, with a flush, nevertheless.  “Mr. Blaisdell must have ice a lot of it.”

“Great Scott!  Where shall we find it in these mountains in midsummer?” Rutter demanded.

“We’ve got to have it, haven’t we?” Tom urged.  “It will be the first thing that the doctor will call for.”

“Then he should bring it with him,” returned Rutter.

“Would you want the doctor to be hampered with a ton or so of ice!” asked Reade.

“Would we need that much?” Rutter seemed hopelessly ignorant in such matters.

“I imagine we’d want a lot of it,” Tom answered.   “By the way,
Mr. Rutter-----”

“Well?” Jack inquired.

Tom was on the point of giving a hint of what he had heard in the gully during the meeting between Black and Bad Pete.  Then, on second thought, the cub engineer decided to hold that news for the ear of Mr. Thurston alone.

“What were you going to say?” pressed Rutter.

“Probably Hazelton has told you,” Tom continued, “that you’re in charge here until Mr. Thurston arrives.”

“Yes; and I’m mighty glad that the chief will be here before daylight tomorrow,” returned Jack.  “I may be a fair sort of engineer, but I’m not cut out for a chief engineer.”

Later, one of the rodmen was sent to guide Harry to the nearest small town, twenty-eight miles away, for ice.  If they succeeded in obtaining it they might be back by dark of the following day.

Supper in camp was a gloomy meal.  No one felt light-hearted.

“Mr. Rutter,” asked Tom, approaching the temporary chief, soon after the evening meal, “what do you want Hazelton and myself to do this evening?”