Then, at the climax of
despairing helplessness he remembered that there was a telephone in the
mine-owner's office--a telephone that connected with Goodloe's station
at Little Butte. Here was a last slender chance of getting a warning to
Goodloe, and through him, by means of the railroad wire, to the
superintendent's special. Instantly Judson forgot his weariness, and
raced away down the western slope of the mountain, prepared to fight his
way to the telephone if the entire night shift of the Wire-Silver should
try to stop him.
It cost ten of the precious fifty minutes to retrace his steps down the
mountain-side, and five more, were lost in dodging the mine watchman,
who, having recovered from the effects of Judson's savage blow, was
prowling about the mine buildings, revolver in hand, in search of his
mysterious assailant. After the watchman was out of the way, five other
minutes went to the cautious prying open of the window least likely to
attract attention--the window upon whose drawn shade the convincing
profile had been projected.
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