At this time Harry was summoned to New York, to attend the trial of Laura Hawkins.  It was possible that Philip would have to go also, her lawyer wrote, but they hoped for a postponement.  There was important evidence that they could not yet obtain, and he hoped the judge would not force them to a trial unprepared.  There were many reasons for a delay, reasons which of course are never mentioned, but which it would seem that a New York judge sometimes must understand, when he grants a postponement upon a motion that seems to the public altogether inadequate.

Harry went, but he soon came back.  The trial was put off.  Every week we can gain, said the learned counsel, Braham, improves our chances.  The popular rage never lasts long.

CHAPTER XLIX.

“We’ve struck it!”

This was the announcement at the tent door that woke Philip out of a sound sleep at dead of night, and shook all the sleepiness out of him in a trice.

“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.”

“Well, it does look encouraging, sure enough—­but then the lacking indications—­”

“I’d rather we had them, Mr. Sterling, but I’ve seen more 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.”