y when a railroad comes within
shouting distance," he said. "The last time I was over here, this valley
was like a graveyard. Now you'd think the entire population of Copah
was up here prospecting for gold."

"Is that what they are doing?" she asked. Then suddenly: "Where is your
mine?--the mine with my name?"

He laughed.

"I told you the simple truth. I don't know where it is; though I suppose
it is up this way somewhere. Yes, I remember, Grigsby said it was on Cow
Mountain."

The hill on their side of the valley threw out a long, low spur and the
railroad-grade driving track swept in a long curve around the spur and
crossed over to the foot of a slope dotted with the digging manikins.

"By Jove!" said Ford, still wondering. "There are twice as many
prospectors out here as there were inhabitants in Copah the last time I
was over. The camp ought to vote bonds and give the railroad company a
bonus."

Farther along, the grade hugged the hillside, skirting the acclivity
where the shaft-houses of some of the older mines of the district were
perched on little hillocks formed by their own dumps, within easy
tramming distance of the railroad. Opposite and directly below the
nearest of these shaft-houses the two leading buckboards had stopped;
and the president was once more standing up and beckoning vigorously to
the laggards in the single-seated vehicle.

Ford spoke to his horses and grimaced as one who swallows bitter herbs.

"I wonder what I've been doing now--or leaving undone?" he queried.

He was not kept long in suspense. When they drove up, the president was
still standing, balancing himself with a hand on the driver's seat in
front. His thin face was working nervously and the aggressive chin
whiskers moved up and down like an accusing finger.

"Dear me!" said Alicia, under her breath; "Uncle Sidney is really angry,
this time! What could have hap--" She glanced up at the mine buildings
perched above the roadway and smothered a little cry. Ford's eyes
followed hers. All across the slab-built shaft-house and the lean-to ore
sheds was stretched a huge canvas sign. And in letters of bright blue,
freshly painted and two feet high, ran the boastful legend:

THE LITTLE ALICIA MINE

THE ONLY PAYING PRODUCES IN THE DISTRICT

Stuart Ford & John Grigsby, Props.

The white-haired old man standing in the leading buckboard was trembling
with righteous indignation. Pointing a shaking finger at the
in