lying upon the old lounge in the middle room of the office, his foot in
bandages.

"Here's luck, Chino," he exclaimed, as the Mexican paused on the
threshold. "Come in and--shut the door," he added in a lower voice.

"_Dios!_" murmured Chino. "An accident?"

"Rather," growled Lockwood. "That fool boy, Davis's kid--the car-boy,
you know--ran me down in the mine. I yelled at him. Somehow he couldn't
stop. Two wheels went over my foot--and the car loaded, too."

Chino shuddered politely.

"Now here's the point," continued Lockwood. "Um--there's nobody round
outside there? Take a look, Chino, by the window there. All clear, eh?
Well, here's the point. That brick ought to go in to-night just the
same, hey?"

"Oh--of a surety, of a surety." Chino spoke in Spanish.

"Now I don't want to let any one else take my place--you never can
tell--the beggars will talk. Not all like you, Chino."

"_Gracias, signor_. It is an honour."

"Do you think you can manage alone? I guess you can, hey? No reason why
you couldn't."

Chino shut his eyes tight and put up a palm. "Rest assured of that,