went out to Spirlaw. Spirlaw read it and his face set like a thunder cloud. He handed it to Keating.
Keating read it—and looked serious.
"I guess things aren't any too rosy down there," he commented; then slowly: "I've noticed our men seemed a bit sullen lately. They don't care anything much about the strike, it must be a sort of sympathetic movement with the rest of their crowd that's running wild at Big Cloud—only I don't just figure how they can know very much about what's going on. We don't ourselves, for that matter."
Spirlaw smiled grimly.
"I'll tell you how," he said. "I caught a Polack in the camp last night that didn't belong here—and I broke his head for the second time, see? He used to work for me about a year ago—that's when I broke it the first time. He's one of their influential citizens—name's Kuryla. Sneaked in here to stir up trouble—guess he's sorry for it, I guess he is."
"That's the first I've heard of it," said Keating, his eyes opening a little wider in surprise.
"You was asleep," explained Spirlaw tersely.
Keating stared curiously at the road boss for a minute, then he glanced again at the super's letter which he still held in his hand.
"Carleton says he is depending on you to put this work through if it's a possible thing. You don't really think we'll have any serious trouble here though, do you?"
Spirlaw bit deeply into his plug before he answered.
"Yes, son; I do," he said at last. "And there's a
