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between Edinburgh and Glasgow, for a distance of ten or twelve miles,

lay the Aberfoyle colliery, of which the engineer, James Starr,



had so long

directed the works. For ten years these mines had been abandoned.



No new seams had been discovered, although the soundings had been

carried to a depth of fifteen hundred or even of two thousand feet,



and when James Starr had retired, it was with the full conviction

that even the smallest vein had been completely exhausted.



Under these circumstances, it was plain that the discovery

of a new seam of coal would be an important event.



Could Simon Ford's communicationrelate to a fact of this nature?

This question James Starr could not cease asking himself.



Was he called to make conquest of another corner of these rich

treasure fields? Fain would he hope it was so.



The second letter had for an instant checked his speculations on this

subject, but now he thought of that letter no longer. Besides, the son



of the old overman was there, waiting at the appointed rendezvous.

The anonymous letter was therefore worth nothing.



The moment the engineer set foot on the platform at the end

of his journey, the young man advanced towards him.



"Are you Harry Ford?" asked the engineer quickly.

"Yes, Mr. Starr."



"I should not have known you, my lad. Of course in ten years

you have become a man!"



"I knew you directly, sir," replied the young miner, cap in hand.

"You have not changed. You look just as you did when you bade us



good-by in the Dochart pit. I haven't forgotten that day."

"Put on your cap, Harry," said the engineer. "It's pouring,



and politeness needn't make you catch cold."

"Shall we take shelter anywhere, Mr. Starr?" asked young Ford.



"No, Harry. The weather is settled. It will rain all day,

and I am in a hurry. Let us go on."



"I am at your orders," replied Harry.

"Tell me, Harry, is your father well?"



"Very well, Mr. Starr."

"And your mother?"



"She is well, too."

"Was it your father who wrote telling me to come to the Yarrow shaft?"



"No, it was I."

"Then did Simon Ford send me a second letter to contradict the first?"



asked the engineer quickly.

"No, Mr. Starr," answered the young miner.



"Very well," said Starr, without speaking of the anonymous letter.

Then, continuing, "And can you tell me what you father wants with me?"



"Mr. Starr, my father wishes to tell you himself."

"But you know what it is?"



"I do, sir."

"Well, Harry, I will not ask you more. But let us get on, for I'm



anxious to see Simon Ford. By-the-bye, where does he live?"

"In the mine."



"What! In the Dochart pit?"

"Yes, Mr. Starr," replied Harry.



"Really! has your family never left the old mine since the cessation

of the works?"



"Not a day, Mr. Starr. You know my father. It is there he was born,

it is there he means to die!"



"I can understand that, Harry. I can understand that! His native mine!

He did not like to abandon it! And are you happy there?"



"Yes, Mr. Starr," replied the young miner, "for we love one another,

and we have but few wants."



"Well, Harry," said the engineer, "lead the way."

And walking rapidly through the streets of Callander, in a few



minutes they had left the town behind them.

CHAPTER III THE DOCHART PIT



HARRY FORD was a fine, strapping fellow of five and twenty.

His grave looks, his habituallypassive expression, had from



childhood been noticed among his comrades in the mine.

His regular features, his deep blue eyes, his curly hair,



rather chestnut than fair, the natural grace of his person,

altogether made him a fine specimen of a lowlander.



Accustomed from his earliest days to the work of the mine,




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