Ten or twenty dollar ore looked small beside the occasional shipments from the Silver Queen, where Blindeye Bozeman and Taylor Bill formed the entire working staff until the much-sought million dollars should flow in and a shaft-house, portable air pumps, machine drills and all the other attributes of modern mining methods should be put into operation.
And it appeared that the million dollars would not be slow in coming.
Squint Rodaine had established his office in a small, vacant store building on the main street, and Fairchild could see, as he went to and from his work, a constant stream of townspeople as they made that their goal--there to give their money into the keeping of the be-scarred man and to trust to the future for wealth.

It galled Fairchild, it made his hate stronger than ever; yet within him there could not live the hope that the Silver Queen might share the fate of the Blue Poppy.
Other persons besides the Rodaines were interested now, persons who were putting their entire savings into the investment; and Fairchild could only grit his teeth and hope--for them--that it would be an everlasting bonanza.

As for the girl who was named as vice-president-- He saw her, day after day, riding through town in the same automobile that he had helped re-tire on the Denver road.

But now she did not look at him; now she pretended that she did not see him.
Before,--well, before, her eyes had at least met his, and there had been some light of recognition, even though her carefully masked face had belied it.

Now it was different.