The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 40: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

510 with the powdered ore, washed away from the stamps and carried through the battery screen to the plates. ' The quicksilver on the plates captured the gold from the muddy tide and held it fast. For one reason or another, a small quantity of the yellow metal would not ‘‘ catch,” and the water carried it out of the mill and away to the tailings piles. Giles, the batteryman, sat in the aisle between the plates, keeping a vigilant eye upon the boxes, and smoking as he watched. At the rear of the mill Big Steve leaned against a bench, tying a fresh cloth over the wide mouth of a bottle of “ quick.” Through the door leading into the engine room Bremerton could see the engineer — who was his own fireman —heaving crooked lengths of mes- quit and palo-verde into the fire-box. It was a scene of peaceful activity, and offered not the slightest hint of dishonest motives on the part of any of the workers. And yet, if there was a “leak,” and tf through it amalgam was dribbling away from Deane, then more than one man in that mill had a hand in the plot. Bremerton became suddenly aware that Big Steve had finished tinkering with the bottle of quicksilver and was looking upward at the edge of the ore-loft. A complacent, slightly con- temptuous grin creased the flabby face of the amalgamator. Bremerton met the uplifted glance quietly, and Big Steve dropped his eyes and shouted something to Giles. The batteryman bounded up the steps to the loft and began “ hanging up’ the stamps. One by one, with a piece of board, he lifted each stamp in one of the batteries and left it hang- ing and idle. There is a knack in the work, and Giles proved his efficiency by doing it deftly and quickly. The roar of the mill was now de- creased by half, and Bremerton was able to compliment Giles without shout- ing at the top of his voice. Giles was minus an eye, but the eye that was THE ARGOSY. left gleamed with pride as he listened to the approval of the new superin- tendent. If Big Steve had a confederate, Bremerton was sure it could not be Giles. He had not the air of a man with a guilty conscience. If there was any fault to be found with Giles, it *was because he could not see as much crookedness with one eye as he might have seen with his normal equipment. Bremerton descended a flight of narrow stairs to the body of the mill. Big Steve was just coming out from under the ore-loft, where he had been turning the water off from the battery. He pulled a stubby whisk-broom from his pocket and stepped to the side of the plate. ‘“ Looking over the mill?’’ he asked of Bremerton casu- ally. Bremerton nodded. Big Steve be- gan passing the broom over the plate in wide, vigorous circles. ‘The amal- gam ridged and loosened under the sweeping splints. Big Steve laid aside the broom and took a square of rubber from his coat. “Cleaning up a little?” asked the new superintendent pleasantly. “Got to,” was the reply. “ Shexion’t stick. Liable to shuff off and ride out with the tailings in chunks.” . Bremerton knew better. The amal- gam was safe enough and there was no need of removing any from the plate. Big Steve was lying. This was part of his method in “ lifting ’ Deane’s gold. He pushed the rubber across and across the plate, molded two balls of amalgam in his hands and laid them aside on a piece of chamois skin. After that he scattered quicksilver from the bottle upon the plate, dressed the plate down with the broom, called to Giles to start the stamps again and went into the little amalgamator’s room off the side of the mill. Bremerton followed and watched. Big Steve, by manner rather than words, seemed to consider his presence an intrusion. “How many times a day do you COMicdoo S CO@