He wrote me as much." "It's that or nothing.

If we sell the mine, some one else will find it.

And we can't 'it the vein without following the drift to the stope.

But you're the one to make the decision." Again, a long moment; again, in memory, Fairchild was standing in a gloomy, old-fashioned room, reading a letter he had taken from a dusty safe.

Finally his answer came: "He told me to go ahead, if necessary.