re than one good
permanent mine struck without 'em in my time."

"Well, that is encouraging too."

"Yes, there was the Union, the Alabama and the Black Mohawk--all good,
sound mines, you know--all just exactly like this one when we first
struck them."

"Well, I begin to feel a good deal more easy. I guess we've really got
it. I remember hearing them tell about the Black Mohawk."

"I'm free to say that I believe it, and the men all think so too. They
are all old hands at this business."

"Come Harry, let's go up and look at it, just for the comfort of it,"
said Philip. They came back in the course of an hour, satisfied and
happy.

There was no more sleep for them that night. They lit their pipes, put a
specimen of the coal on the table, and made it a kind of loadstone of
thought and conversation.

"Of course," said Harry, "there will have to be a branch track built, and
a 'switch-back' up the hill."

"Yes, there will be no trouble about getting the money for that now. We
could sell-out tomorrow for a handsome sum. That sort of coal doesn't go
begging within a mile of a rail-road. I wonder if Mr. Bolton' would
rather sell out or work it?"

"Oh, work it," says Harry, "probably the whole mountain is coal now
you've got to it."

"Possibly it might not be much of a vein after all," suggested Philip.

"Possibly it is; I'll bet it's forty feet thick. I told you. I knew the
sort of thing as soon as I put my eyes on it."

Philip's next thought was to write to his friends and announce their good
fortune. To Mr. Bolton he wrote a short, business letter, as calm as he
could make it. They had found coal of excellent quality, but they could
not yet tell with absolute certainty what the vein was. The prospecting
was still going on. Philip also wrote to Ruth; but though this letter
may have glowed, it was not with the heat of burning anthracite. He
needed no artificial heat to warm his pen and kindle his ardor when he
sat down to write to Ruth. But it must be confessed that the words never
flowed so easily before, and he ran on for an hour disporting in all the
extravagance of his imagination. When Ruth read it, she doubted if the
fellow had not gone out of his senses. And it was not until she reached
the postscript that she discovered the cause of the exhilaration.
"P. S.--We have found coal."

The news couldn't have come to Mr. Bolton in better time. He had never
been so sorely pressed. A dozen sch