When this letter was received, Wickersham was in conference with his superintendent, Mr. Matheson.  The interview had been somewhat stormy, for the superintendent had just made the very statement that Keith’s note contained.  He was not in a placid frame of mind, for the work was going badly; and Mr. Plume was seated in an arm-chair listening to his report.  He did not like Plume, and had wished to speak privately to Wickersham; but Wickersham had told him to go ahead, that Plume was a friend of his, and as much interested in the success of the work as Matheson was.  Plume’s satisfaction and nonchalant air vexed the Scotchman.  Just then Keith’s note came, and Wickersham, after reading it, tossed it over first to Plume.  Plume read it and handed it back without the least change of expression.  Then Wickersham, after some reflection, tossed it to Matheson.

“That’s right,” he nodded, when he had read it.  “We are already over the line so far that the men know it.”

Wickersham’s temper gave way.

“Well, I know it.  Do you suppose I am so ignorant as not to know anything?  But I am not fool enough to give it away.  You need not go bleating around about it everywhere.”

Plume’s eye glistened with satisfaction.

The superintendent’s brow, which had clouded, grew darker.  He had already stood much from this young man.  He had followed his orders in running the mine beyond the lines shown on the plats; but he had accepted Wickersham’s statement that the lines were wrong, not the workings.

“I wush you to understand one thing, Mr. Wickersham,” he said.  “I came here to superintend your mines and to do my work like an honest man; but I don’t propose to soil my hands with any dirrty dealings, or to engage in any violation of the law; for I am a law-abiding, God-fearing man, and before I’ll do it I’ll go.”

“Then you can go,” said Wickersham, angrily.  “Go, and be d——­d to you!  I will show you that I know my own business.”

“Then I will go.  I do not think you do know it.  If you did, you would not—­”

“Never mind.  I want no more advice from you,” snarled Wickersham.

“I would like to have a letter saying that the work that has been done since you took charge has been under your express orders.”

“I’ll see you condemned first.  I suppose it was by my orders that the cutting ran so near to the creek that that work had to be done to keep the mine from being flooded?”

“It was, by your express orders.”

“I deny it.  I suppose it was by my orders that the men were set on to strike?”

“You were told of the danger and the probable consequences of your insisting.”

“Oh, you are always croaking—­”

“And I will croak once more,” said the discharged official.  “You will never make that mine pay, for there is no coal there.  It is all on the other side of the line.”

“I won’t!  Well, I will show you.  I, at least, stand a better chance to make it pay than I ever did before.  I suppose you propose now to go over to Keith and tell him all you know about our work.  I imagine he would like to know it—­more than he knows already.”