anged into coal. So
then, the origin of coal mines, in whatever part of the globe they have
been discovered, is this: the absorption through the terrestrial crust
of the great forests of the geological period; then, the mineralization
of the vegetables obtained in the course of time, under the influence of
pressure and heat, and under the action of carbonic acid.

Now, at the time when the events related in this story took place, some
of the most important mines of the Scottish coal beds had been exhausted
by too rapid working. In the region which extends 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 communication
relate 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?"

"