At any rate we must not give up the mine, so long as we have any show." Alas! the relief did not come.

New misfortunes came instead.

When the extent of the Bigler swindle was disclosed there was no more hope that Mr.Bolton could extricate himself, and he had, as an honest man, no resource except to surrender all his property for the benefit of his creditors.
The Autumn came and found Philip working with diminished force but still with hope.

He had again and again been encouraged by good "indications," but he had again and again been disappointed.

He could not go on much longer, and almost everybody except himself had thought it was useless to go on as long as he had been doing.
When the news came of Mr.Bolton's failure, of course the work stopped.
The men were discharged, the tools were housed, the hopeful noise of pickman and driver ceased, and the mining camp had that desolate and mournful aspect which always hovers over a frustrated enterprise.
Philip sat down amid the ruins, and almost wished he were buried in them.
How distant Ruth was now from him, now, when she might need him most.
How changed was all the Philadelphia world, which had hitherto stood for the exemplification of happiness and prosperity.
He still had faith that there was coal in that mountain.