ore, in their uncut form. The
cutting of them might develop flaws, or it might bring out unexpected
luster; it was taking a chance.

Returning to Toronto, he announced that he would take eight hundred and
no less; and after some arguing Wilson & Keith consented to pay that
price. The boys had a grand dinner at a downtown restaurant that night
to celebrate it. It was far from the fortune they had hoped to gain,
but they still had great hopes of discovering that fortune.

"It's more than enough to cover the expenses of your trip into the
woods this winter, and our next trip in the spring, too," said Horace,
"for of course this eight hundred is going to be divided equally
between us."

"Not a bit of it!" protested Mac. "You found the stones. They're
yours. We won't take a cent of it, will we, Maurice?"

"I should think not!" Maurice exclaimed.

Horace tried to insist, but the two boys stood firm. At last he
persuaded them to agree that the expenses of the expedition should be
defrayed out of the diamond money. As for their coming trip next
season, the matter was left to be settled later.

There was plenty of time to think of it, for it would be months before
the woods would be open for prospecting.

CHAPTER IX

Nearly the whole winter was before them, but it was none too long a
time to consider their plans. Horace had found diamonds, it is true,
but they had been found miles apart, one at a time, in the river
gravel. This is not the natural home of diamonds, which are always
found native to the peculiar formation known in South Africa as "blue
clay." Nobody had ever found a trace of blue clay in Ontario, yet
Horace felt certain that the blue-clay beds must exist. They were the
only thing worth looking for. To poke over the river gravel in hopes
of finding a chance stone would be sheer waste of time. Hundreds of
men had done it without lighting on a single diamond.

Horace was a trained geologist, and that winter he spent much time in
study, without saying a word even to Fred as to what he was meditating.
He pored over geological surveys, and went to Ottawa to consult the
departmental maps at the Legislative Library. By slow degrees he was
working out a theory, and at last, one February evening, he came into
his brother's room.

"Just look at this, Fred, and see what you think of it," he remarked
casually.

It was a large pen-and-ink map, skillfully drawn, for Horace was a
practiced