It was late in the month of June when Ford and Frisbie, tanned,
weathered and as gaunt as pioneers, returned to Saint's Rest; and for
those who were curious enough to be interested, there were a couple of
bear-skins and one of a mountain lion to make good the ostensible object
of the absence.

But the most important trophies of the excursion were two engineers'
note-books, well filled with memoranda; and these they did not exhibit.
On the contrary, they became a part of the collection of maps,
statistics, estimates and private correspondence which Chief Clerk
Penfield was so anxious to examine, and which Ford kept under lock and
key when he and Frisbie were not poring over some portion of it in the
seclusion of the private office.

None the less, Penfield kept his eyes and ears open, and before long he
had another detail to report by cipher telegram to the general manager.
Ford was evidently preparing for another absence, and from what the
chief clerk could overhear, he was led to believe that the pseudo
supervisor of track would be left in charge of Plug Mountain affairs.

It was on the day before Ford's departure for Denver that a letter came
from General Manager North. Ford read it with a scowl of disapproval and
tossed it across the double desk to Frisbie.

"A polite invitation for me to stay at home and to attend to my
business," he commented.

"Had you written him that you were going away?" inquired Frisbie.