The faded-out old town clerk looked Jack all over when he asked to see the duplicate of a certain deed, remarking, as he led the way to the Hall of Records,—­it was under a table in the back room,—­ “Reckon there’s somethin’ goin’ on jedgin’ from the way you New Yorkers is lookin’ into ore lands up here.  There come a lawyer only last month from a man named Breen, huntin’ up this same property.”

The comparisons over and found to be correct, “starting from a certain stone marked ‘B’ one hundred and eighty-seven feet East by South,” etc., etc., the whole party, including a small boy to help carry the level and target and a reliable citizen who said he could find the property blindfold—­and who finally collapsed with a “Goll darn!—­if I know where I’m at!”—­the five jumped onto a mud-encrusted vehicle and started for the site.

Up hill and down hill, across one stream and then another; through the dense timber and into the open again.  Here their work began, Jack handling the level (his Chief had taught him), Bangs holding the target, MacFarlane taking a squint now and then so as to be sure,—­and then the final result,—­to wit:—­First, that the Maryland Company’s property, Arthur Breen & Co., agents, lay under a hill some two miles from Morfordsburg; that Jack’s lay some miles to the south of Breen’s.  Second, that outcroppings showed the Maryland Mining Company’s ore dipped, as the Senior Breen had said, to the east, and third, that similar outcroppings showed Jack’s dipped to the west.

And so the airy bubble filled with his own and Ruth’s iridescent hopes,—­a bubble which had floated before him as he tramped through the cool woods, and out upon the hillside, vanished into thin air.

For with Ruth’s arms around him, her lips close to his, her boundless enthusiasm filling his soul, the boy’s emotions had for the time overcome his judgment.  So much so that all the way up in the train he had been “supposing” and resupposing.  Even the reply of the town clerk had set his heart to thumping; his uncle had sent some one then!  Then came the thought,—­Yes, to boom one of his misleading prospectuses—­and for a time the pounding had ceased:  by no possible combination now, either honest or dishonest, could the two properties be considered one and the same mine.

Again his thoughts went back to Ruth.  He knew how keenly she would be disappointed.  She had made him promise to telegraph her at once if his own and her father’s inspection of the ore lands should hold out any rose-colored prospects for the future.  This he had not now the heart to do.  One thing, however, he must do, and at once, and that was to write to Peter, or see him immediately on his return.  There was no use now of the old fellow talking the matter over with the director; there was nothing to talk over, except a bare hill three miles from anywhere, covering a possible deposit of doubtful richness and which, whether good or bad, would cost more to get to market than it was worth.