“Wh-e-w!” ejaculated the ex-sailor, astonished. “You newspaper fellows beat the world for hustling, don’t you? So quick as that? H’m! If you fly as much sail as that so sudden, looks like we’d reach port ahead of time.”
“When a thing’s to be done––why, do it! If there’s copper enough to pay for mining, why––mine it,” answered the other, coolly.
“Young man, mining costs money. Talkin’ is cheap,” retorted Samson, sententiously.
“Of course. One must put in a little capital if one expects to get results, in any business. The money will be found easily enough. Trust me to see to that. Or my friends and me.”
Already the journalist was as eager as possible on this new matter. His brief rest had restored his overtaxed nerves, and he was more than ready to push any enterprise that commended itself to his keen judgment. Now, all depended upon the expert’s arrival at the ranch. He would then be taken in person to examine the discovered vein, and on his opinion great affairs would depend. Yet Ninian felt that even if Henry Cornell’s opinion was averse, he should not let the subject rest there. He would consult with others. Mrs. Trent’s interests must be forwarded to the utmost, and no possible chance of her realizing a fortune lost through any lukewarmness of his own.
Marty duly returned. He brought the expected message from the great expert, and that gentleman would arrive at Marion by that very evening’s train. He brought, as well, several letters for the ranch mistress, and these Jessica joyously carried to her as she sat quietly sewing. Most of them were business communications, which were promptly read and laid aside, to be answered at once; but there was one which the mother dropped in her workbasket unopened, though it was the thickest and plumpest of the lot, and, also, bore the postmark “New York.” In ordinary, all New York mail was 213 the most eagerly read of all that came; and this fact caused Jessica to exclaim:
“Why, mother, dear! Why don’t you read it? Or are you like me when I have something extra nice for dinner, leaving it to by and by?”
“Yes, darling, I’m leaving it––a while. It will keep. I know what is in it, or nearly so. It’s not the first of the sort has come lately, and I’ll have courage soon.”
“Courage, mother? Do you need courage to read your letters? What harm can come to us now, out of that far away city? My father’s name is cleared, we owe nobody, we––why, we may be going to be very, very rich, if things turn out as Mr. Ninian thinks they will turn out, and–––Oh, dear! I’m not saying it very clear, only seems to me we ought to be perfectly, perfectly happy now; and if there’s anything bad in the letter, please give it to me, and let me burn it up right away.”