“I am not in the habit of telling the private affairs of my employers,” said the man, coldly.  “He does not need any information from me.  He is not a fool.  He knows it.”

“Oh, he does, does he!  Then you told him,” asserted Wickersham, furiously.

This was more than the Scotchman could bear.  He had already stood much, and his face might have warned Wickersham.  Suddenly it flamed.  He took one step forward, a long one, and rammed his clinched and hairy fist under the young man’s nose.

“You lie!  And, ——­ you! you know you lie.  I’m a law-abiding, God-fearing man; but if you don’t take that back, I will break every bone in your face.  I’ve a mind to do it anyhow.”

Wickersham rolled back out of his chair as if the knotted fist under his nose had driven him.  His face was white as he staggered to his feet.

“I didn’t mean—­I don’t say—.  What do you mean anyhow?” he stammered.

“Take it back.”  The foreman advanced slowly.

“Yes—­I didn’t mean anything.  What are you getting so mad about?”

The foreman cut him short with a fierce gesture.  “Write me that paper I want, and pay me my money.”

“Write what—?”

“That the lower shaft and the last drift was cut by your order.  Write it!” He pointed to the paper on the desk.  Wickersham sat down and wrote a few lines.  His hand trembled.

“Here it is,” he said sullenly.

“Now pay me,” said the glowering Scotchman.

The money was paid, and Matheson, without a word, turned and walked out.

“D——­ him!  I wish the mine had fallen in on him,” Wickersham growled.

“You are well quit of him,” said Mr. Plume, consolingly.

“I’ll get even with him yet.”

“You have to answer your other friend,” observed Mr. Plume.

“I’ll answer him.”  He seized a sheet of paper and began to write, annotating it with observations far from complimentary to Keith and Matheson.  He read the letter to Plume.  It was a curt inquiry whether Mr. Keith meant to make the charge that he had crossed his line.  If so, Wickersham & Company knew their remedy and would be glad to know at last the source whence these slanderous reports had come.

“That will settle him.”

Mr. Plume nodded.  “It ought to do it.”

Keith’s reply to this note was sent that night.

It stated simply that he did make the charge, and if Mr. Wickersham wished it, he was prepared to prove it.

Wickersham’s face fell.  “Matheson’s been to him.”

“Or some one else,” said Mr. Plume.  “That Bluffy hates you like poison.  You’ve got to do something and do it quick.”

Wickersham glanced up at Plume.  He met his eye steadily.  Wickersham’s face showed the shadow of a frown; then it passed, leaving his face set and a shade paler.  He looked at Plume again and licked his lips.  Plume’s eye was still on him.