"Good. That's the way to talk. You got to make him good as new, Doctor.
You ought to have seen the way he stayed by that drill when the water
was pouring through the cracks in the granite. Have him taken to the
hospital, and send the bill to me."

Tregarth boomed out in a heavy bass:

"What's the matter with the boss? Both of un? They be all right. Bean't
they, lads?"

It was just after the answering chorus that Pesquiera came forward and
bowed magnificently to the young mine operator. The New Mexican's eyes
were blazing with admiration, for he was of Castilian blood and
cherished courage as the chief of virtues.

"I have the honor to salute a hero, _señor_" he cried enthusiastically.
"Your deed is of a most fine bravery. I, Manuel Pesquiera, say it. Have
I the right in thinking him of the name of Mr. Richard Gordon?"

Something that was almost disgust filmed the gray eyes of the young
miner. He had the Anglo-Saxon horror of heroics. What he had done was
all in the day's work, and he was the last man in the world to enjoy
having a fuss made over it.

"My name is Gordon," he said quietly.

The Spaniard bowed again.

"I have the honor to be your servant to command, Don Manuel Pesquiera. I
believe myself to be, sir, a messenger of fortune to you--a Mercury from