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.