But it took more than a look to repress Adela. She laughed aloud. "Does
that mean I am to draw my own conclusions, Mr. Hill? Would you like me to
tell you what they are?"

"Not for my amusement," said Hill, dryly. "Where did you get this whisky
from, Jack? I hope it's a legal brand."

"I hope it is," agreed Jack. "I don't know its origin. I got it through
Harley. You know him? The manager of the Fortescue Gold Mine."

"Yes, I know him," said Hill. "He is retiring, and another fellow is
taking his place."

"Retiring, is he? I thought he was the only person who could manage that
crowd." Jack spoke with surprise.

Hill took out his pipe and began to fill it. "He's got beyond it. Too
much running with the hare and hunting with the hounds. They need a
younger man with more decision and resource--someone who can handle them
without being afraid."

"Have they got such a man?" questioned Jack.

"They believe they have." Hill spoke thoughtfully. "He's a man from the
West, who has done some tough work in the desert, but brought back more
in the way of experience than gold. He's been working in the Fortescue
Mine now for six months, a foreman for the past three. Harley tells me
the men will follow him like sheep. But for myself, I'm not so sure of
him."