"We've had a disappointing mine that has turned over night into a bonanza. I've a lot of the finest specimens outside."
"Bring them in," directed the physician.
Tom came in with an armful.
"Harry," he called briskly, "we were right in thinking we had a rich vein. The only trouble was that we were working eight or ten feet south of the real vein. Look over these specimens."
Tom ranged half a dozen on the top blanket. When Harry's glistening eyes had looked them all over, Tom produced other specimens of ore. Dr. Scott examined them, too, with a critical eye.
"If you've got much of this stuff in your mine, Reade," said the medical man, "you won't need to work much longer."
"Won't need to work much longer?" gasped Tom Reade. "Man alive, we don't want to stop working. When a man stops working he may as well consult the undertaker, for he's practically dead anyway. What we want gold for is so that we can go on working on a bigger scale than ever! And now, Harry, the name for our mine has come to me."
"What are you going to call it?" Hazelton asked.
"With your consent, and Ferrers's, we'll name it the Ambition
Mine. That's just what the mine stands for with us, you know."
"The best name in the world," Harry declared.