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

526

The Gilded Age