Had it been any one else, Fairchild would have shouted for happiness and joined the parade.

As it was, he stood far at one side, a silent, grim figure, watching the miners and townspeople passing before him, leaping about in their happiness, calling to him the news that he did not want to hear: The Silver Queen had "hit." The faith of Squint Rodaine, maintained through the years, had shown his perspicacity.

It was there; he always had said it was there, and now the strike had been made at last, lead-silver ore, running as high as two hundred dollars a ton.

And just like Squint--so some one informed Fairchild--he had kept it a secret until the assays all had been made and the first shipments started to Denver.

It meant everything for Ohadi; it meant that mining would boom now, that soon the hills would be clustered with prospectors, and that the little town would blossom as a result of possessing one of the rich silver mines of the State.