"What! Where is it? When? Coal? Let me see it. What quality is it?"
were some of the rapid questions that Philip poured out as he hurriedly
dressed. "Harry, wake up, my boy, the coal train is coming. Struck it,
eh? Let's see?"
The foreman put down his lantern, and handed Philip a black lump. There
was no mistake about it, it was the hard, shining anthracite, and its
freshly fractured surface, glistened in the light like polished steel.
Diamond never shone with such lustre in the eyes of Philip.
Harry was exuberant, but Philip's natural caution found expression in his
next remark.
"Now, Roberts, you are sure about this?"
"What--sure that it's coal?"
"O, no, sure that it's the main vein."
"Well, yes. We took it to be that"
"Did you from the first?"
"I can't say we did at first. No, we didn't. Most of the indications
were there, but not all of them, not all of them. So we thought we'd
prospect a bit."
"Well?"
"It was tolerable thick, and looked as if it might be the vein--looked as
if it ought to be the vein. Then we went down on it a little. Looked
better all the time."
"When did you strike it?"
"About ten o'clock."
"Then you've been prospecting about four hours."
"Yes, been sinking on it something over four hours."
"I'm afraid you couldn't go down very far in four hours--could you?"
"O yes--it's a good deal broke up, nothing but picking and gadding
stuff.
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