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DAWN in the woods is the signal for general renewal of activity. If Steele was about with the first pale glimmerings of the new day, so were robins, bluebirds, noisy jays, and the soft-footed, furred denizens of the forests. So were Turk Wilson and Bill Rice who, though with no thought to the adage which commands "when in Rome do as the Romans," responded to the stimulus of environment and emulated the great hidden army of the solitudes. By the time Steele had turned upstream toward his cave Turk Wilson was headed downstream to report to Ed Hurley at the Little Giant. Rice, in obedience to the second of the commands laid upon them, was to spend the day in a spiritless search for the gold he was confident would never be found here.

For half of the six miles lying between last night's camp and the mine Turk followed the river's side. Then, when the boiling stream began to describe its wide curve which turned it again westward and toward ranch headquarters, Turk set his back to it, climbed the ridge ahead, and trudged on straight to the east. He came to the first of the cabins, the one used by Ed Hurley as his office and sleeping quarters, before the mine superintendent was awake. Turk pounded heavily upon the door.

​"Who is it?" came Hurley's voice, sleepy and disgusted. "What the devil do you want?"

"It's me," was Turk's entirely to be expected answer. "Come to report."

The sound of bare feet thudding on the floor, of a bolt shot back and with the door thrown open before him Turk stalked in.

"Hang it, man," snapped Hurley, "why can't you wait to report until you are asked to? I'm not paying you for walking back and forth across country and waking me up this time of day."

"Bill Steele's out there," said Turk imperturbably. "I give him your letter. Says he'll see you in a week or so. Meantime he won't budge."

Ed Hurley, though Steele stood high in his esteem, grunted savagely. He went back to his bed, sat down upon its edge and stared at Turk who in turn stared back at the towselled head, sleepy eyes and big, bony form of his pajamaed superior.

"Plague take Billy Steele!" grumbled Hurley. "Doesn't he know I'm jumping half a dozen ways already, without his starting in any funny monkey business? … What else did he say, Turk?"

"Said he wouldn't go because he wasn't on the Queen's land a-tall. Says it belongs to him. Bill Rice ups and says Steele ain't given to lyin'. So we quit right there."

Incredulity came into Ed Hurley's eyes.

"Where did you find him?" he demanded.

"On the little flat by Hell's Goblet. Says he owns eighty acres in there."

​"Say anything else?"

"Nope."

For a moment Hurley frowned at him thoughtfully, irritation gone before puzzled wonderment. Then, reaching for the telephone on his table, he said shortly:

"Stick around for further orders."

Turk nodded and went out. Hurley, sitting very still, his hand upon the telephone instrument, for a little seemed in doubt. Then with a suddenness which was like an attack on the line he was about to employ, rang the one long bell which was a call at headquarters for Beatrice Corliss.

"Yes?" came a voice not too sleepy to sound decidedly cross. "Who is it?"

"It's Hurley," said the man in pajamas briefly, "One of my men has just come in with the report that Steele is at the Goblet, that he refuses to move off … "

Beatrice Corliss was wide awake now; Hurley could imagine how his words had made her sit bolt upright, could even fancy a quick flash in her eyes.

"I told you," came her words with unmistakable emphasis, "not to allow that man on my property. I don't want reports; I want Steele put off my ranch. Forcibly, if necessary."

"But," returned Hurley, "he sends back word that he is not trespassing; that he is on his own land; that he owns eighty acres at the Goblet."

A little gasp from Miss Corliss as her leaping fancy sought to measure those supreme heights of impudence ​to which Bill Steele might rise. And after the gasp a curt, angry,

"Liar! Mr. Hurley, you should know once and for all that you can believe nothing that that man says. He … he … "

The wire connecting the ranch house with Hurley's cabin recorded a sharply indrawn breath of impotent fury. Hurley chuckled, but had the forethought to put his big hand over the receiver.

"Mr. Hurley," and now her voice came with a coolness which caused Hurley to nod his approval of her quick mastery of her anger and, perhaps, of the situation, "I cannot tolerate incompetence. I directed you to send two of your best men to drive Steele off the ranch. They have failed to obey orders. I am not interested in excuses. You will immediately discharge both men."

"They're Turk Wilson and Bill Ri … "

"I don't care to know who they are, thank you," said Miss Corliss in a tone which Hurley recognized. "They are both discharged. You will inform them of that fact without delay. Further, your orders still stand: If you can't handle the situation before dark I'll not hesitate to accept your resignation. That's all, I believe."

And so far as further discussion just now was concerned that was an end of the matter. The Queen, taking advantage of the royal prerogative, had hung up at the other end of the line.

"Damn!" said Ed Hurley softly but none the less emphatically.

​But even as he began a savage dressing he gave begrudgingly of his admiration to the young woman who had cut him off. She was Ben Corliss' daughter over and over, clear thoughted, direct, capable, the driver of many a hard bargain, one who gave orders crisply and counted confidently upon their being obeyed to the letter. The details oftener than not she was content to leave in the hands of her agents; now she did not concern herself in the least with the manner of Steele's removal. What she asked at all times was results.

"I wonder what's up between Bill and her?" pondered Hurley, busy with his boots. "He's most certainly riled her up a few! And I don't know the man to do the job better than Bill Steele. I'll bet she doesn't go back for her beauty sleep this trip."

Nor did she. Beatrice Corliss was awake for the day, wide awake. That man … so she had grown into the habit of thinking of Mr. William Steele … having begun with impertinence which was in her mind close to insult, now rose to defiance. And never in all the days of her life until this morning had a man openly defied her. There had been reasons. Hers was that crushing power of massed millions which was to be considered with forethought and circumspection. If acquaintances did not like Beatrice Corliss, and she had the brains to know that there were those who did not, they were at least aware of the foolishness of antagonizing the machinery of the Corliss money. Men who came from near by or from distances to speak with her came invariably upon business and with no desire to ​displease her. She had been spoiled in her childhood through being the single child of very wealthy parents; she had been spoiled in more recent years through being an arbiter in many affairs in which other hands than her own found it poor policy to lift themselves against her. In short, very largely for the simple reason that it didn't pay to seek to thwart her, to Bill Steele remained the distinction of being the first man to bring home to Beatrice Corliss the full sense of a word she detested, defiance.

Though she had played the part of a bountiful hostess until a very late hour last night, though if Hurley's call had not awakened her she would have slept on until nine or ten o'clock, she now gave no thought to further rest. Dressed a great deal more quickly than was her custom, she went through the quiet house while her guests were still sleeping soundly and came quickly into the dim light of her office. Set in a row in her table top were three electric push buttons. In turn she set her finger to each of the three, holding it tight down until a bell in Booth Stanton's cabin had jingled ten seconds, another in Bradford's room still another ten seconds, while the third gave its insistent message to Miss Corliss' maid. That she had not so much as thought of her serving woman until after she had dressed herself was in itself significant.

Though Booth Stanton was the only one of the three not in the house, he was the first to come to the office, his rudely laced boots bespeaking his haste, the question standing in his eyes testifying to the novelty of a summons from her at such an hour. As his form ​outlined itself in the outer doorway her eyes were upon her wall clock; it marked twenty-five minutes after six.

"You know what my system is, Stanton," she said by way of answer to his quiet "Good morning." "Next to myself you are in power from one end to the other of my ranch here, yours is the responsibility. So, if anything goes wrong, in the final analysis of it you are to blame."

"Something has gone wrong then?" asked Stanton, his pulses quickened with his vague alarm.

"No," she retorted coolly. "And nothing is going any way excepting as I want it to. Yesterday I gave certain orders to Ed Hurley. Those orders have not been carried out. You appointed Hurley to his present position. You are responsible for him."

Bradford, looking as though all night he had not been out of his clothes and had not so much as lain down in them but must have slept standing, came in closely followed by an anxious, half frightened looking girl clutching at her clothing.

"Bradford," said Miss Corliss, "have Parker bring out my roadster; you can help him run it by hand into the court. I don't want the engine waking my guests. Delia, have my breakfast served immediately in my room."

Bradford and Delia vanished, carrying her orders. She turned again toward the mystified Booth Stanton.

"You, Stanton," she directed, without choosing to answer any of his unspoken questions, "will immediately telephone Hurley. Learn from him what he intends ​doing. Discharge him by six o'clock tonight if that man Steele is still on my property."

The first glint of understanding came into Stanton's dark eyes. He made no response and the girl continued:

"Hurley will put you in possession of all the facts. You will instruct him for me that I shall expect him to have Steele acquainted with my decision within an hour; it should not take longer than that for him or his men to get from the Little Giant to the Goblet. You may tell him or not, as you please, that I count upon having the pleasure of witnessing Mr. Steele's ejection. In other words, as soon as I have breakfasted I will have Parker, drive me as far as the Big Bend; from there it's only three miles to the Goblet, isn't it?"

"Yes," nodded Stanton.

"Very well. It's also about three miles from the mine? Then you are to have my horse there by the time I get there. I imagine," drily, "that you won't have much time to spare, Mr. Stanton. I'll expect you there, too, to ride with me to the Goblet. And," with a sudden flash in her eyes, "as many men as you and Ed Hurley think necessary to throw one man off my land. That is all."

Stanton wheeled and went. But before calling up Hurley he telephoned the stables to have Miss Corliss' horse and his own saddled. He had an idea he was going to have the devil's own day of it, with his work cut out for him getting to the Big Bend before any car that Parker would drive this morning. In the ​latter surmise he would no doubt have been entirely correct were is not for the fact that a certain dynamic individual named Joe Embry required considerably less sleep than most men. In the former portion of his hazard at prophetic vision Booth Stanton was not far in error.

Beatrice Corliss, left alone, turned to a sheet of paper lying upon her table top, held securely by the sturdy feet of a little bronze tiger. On it was written the message which had come over her telephone wire from her lawyers last night, jotted down by her own hand as she received it:

"Time required for thorough investigation. Attended personally however to all titles and deeds when your father increased his holdings. Confident no flaw anywhere in your title. Giving the matter immediate attention.—Rollins."

"It's just a big game of bluff!" cried Beatrice, the hand holding the paper suddenly clenching. "The man is a fool."

Then it was that Joe Embry, that one of her guests who yesterday afternoon had seized the first moment of his arrival to question her concerning Steele, appeared upon the veranda, smiling in through the open door.

"Miss Corliss, you are absolutely the most constantly surprising young woman in the world. I tell you good night at one o'clock, and here at half past six I find you dispensing justice In the throne room!"

Beatrice, her frown gone, smiled. Embry always addressed her thus and though long ago all novelty had ​departed from the queenly epithets bestowed upon her she unfailingly found this man's gentle flattery pleasant. It seemed a part of himself and of the man she approved,

"Come in," she invited brightly. "I want to talk with you."

Even as he entered, moving with that slow grace of his which was oddly at variance with the look of his keen, quick eyes, Beatrice found herself vaguely wondering just what it was that made Joe Embry "different." Last night he had been as merry, carefree, inconsequential as the most boyish of her other guests. This morning his serenity was that of a man who had slept his allotted, untroubled hours; his mood seemed one ready for mere banter. And yet, always and always, he brought with him that subtle sense of quiet mastery, of forceful certainty of himself and of fate, which long ago had appealed to something in the girl. If she ever required an adviser she believed that she could turn unhesitatingly to Joe Embry. And yet, what did she really know of him? Only the very little which Joe Embry had given her to understand: that he was of her class socially and financially, at once possessed of what leisure he desired and sufficient money to make more money for him. … He was courteous, even now he unnecessarily tossed away a freshly lighted cigar.

"I await the royal pleasure," he said lightly.

"Yesterday," said Beatrice in the direct fashion of her business moods, "you mentioned a man named William Steele, you called him a crook, you cautioned me ​against him. He is the cause of my being about so early this morning. He has camped upon the south-west corner of my land and, though told to move on, has so far refused to do so."

The keen probe of Joe Embry's eyes from between slightly narrowed lids merely indicated that he waited for her to continue, reserving his judgment.

"He offered yesterday," Beatrice amplified succinctly, "to buy a section in there from me at a figure too high for grazing land of that type or inaccessible timber lands, too low for mineral lands. I refused to discuss the matter with him. His answer to me now is that already he owns eighty acres of my land. That if he doesn't obey orders to move on now it is because he is camped upon his own property."

Even now that she had summed up the essentials of the case Joe Embry held his thoughtful silence. A glance at him showed her that his eyes were hard and expressionless, that the muscles of his face were set in rigid inscrutability. Before he spoke he transferred his gaze from her to his hand which he raised slowly and held in front of him, studying it quite as though it and not William Steele were the matter under discussion. It was a large hand, even for a man, and altogether beautiful, as well groomed as Joe Embry himself, as eloquent of quiet strength, the fingers long, slightly tapering, firm, looking to be rarely sensitive.

Suddenly he lifted his head, looking straight and deep into her eyes, his expression altered, his lips relaxed into a smile.

"Dear lady," he said lightly, "I should hold myself ​very fortunate if in some little way I could be of service to you. Though I do not know this man intimately I do know a good deal about him. Yes, I said that he was a crook; further I suggested that you look out for him. It appears that already he has started something. Just what … Will you let me ascertain for you? Will you allow me, in your behalf, to call on Mr. Steele this morning?"

"I am going myself!" cried Beatrice quickly. "Not so much to be sure that my orders do not miscarry this time as to witness with my own eyes his ejection. If you care to accompany me … "

"Thank you," returned Embry. "If you think it would not be better to leave an unpleasant bit of business to me … Well, of course, you know best. Only, I imagine he will prove stubborn. If he has refused once already … "

"Then," interrupted Beatrice with heat, "he will be thrown off! Surely I have men enough to handle Mr. William Steele."

Embry's smile broadened; he laughed softly.

"He will be thrown off. You are right, right as always. And I assure you, Miss Corliss, it will be a great pleasure to accompany you."

Beatrice rang and gave orders for a change in breakfast plans to include Mr. Embry. And Embry, again studying her through narrowed eyes, was deeply thoughtful. The gods of his destiny were offering him an opportunity. Perhaps merely an opportunity of service to the "dear lady " whom he unstintedly admired? Or of beginning negotiations of a sort with ​Bill Steele? Or, as the gamblers put it, of boosting Joe Embry's own game, whatever it might be?

At any rate he was manifestly pleased to share to any extent in her confidences. And Beatrice, vividly remembering the Bill Steele of yesterday, was more than glad today to have a man like Joe Embry accompany her.