“Come,” he said. “I have arranged all. I am not going to give you young people an excuse to defer your happiness longer.” He turned to Clay: “I shall show you something which you have been on the track of for some time. I have my lantern in the buggy, and we will have to walk a mile or more. But it is pleasant to-night, and the walk will do us all good. Come.”
They both arose wonderingly—Helen came over and put her hand on his arm: “I will go,” she whispered, “if there be no more of that talk.”
He smiled. “You must do as I say. Am I not now your guardian? Bring your leathern sack with your hammer and geological tools,” he remarked to Clay.
Clay arose hastily, and they went out of the old house and across the fields. Past the boundaries of Millwood they walked, Travis silently leading, and Clay following with Helen, who could not speak, so momentous it all seemed. She saw only Travis's fine square shoulders, and erect, sinewy form, going before them, into the night of shadows, of trees, of rocks, of the great peak of the mountain, silent and dark.
He did not speak. He walked in silent thought. They passed the boundary line of Millwood, and then down a slight ravine he led them to the ragged, flinty hill, on which the old preacher's cabin stood on their right.
“Now,” he said stopping—“if I am correct, Clay, this hill is the old Bishop's,” pointing to his right where the cabin stood, “and over here is what is left of Westmoreland. This gulch divides them. This range really runs into Westmoreland,” he said with a sweep of his hand toward it. “Get your bearings,” he smiled to Clay, “for I want you to tell whose fortune this is.”
He lit his lantern and walking forward struck away some weeds and vines which partially concealed the mouth of a small opening in the hillside caused by a landslide. It was difficult going at first, but as they went further the opening grew larger, and as the light flashed on its walls, Clay stopped in admiration and shouted:
“Look—look—there it is!”
Before them running right and left—for the cave had split it in two, lay the solid vein of coal, shining in the light, and throwing back splinters of ebony, to Clay more beautiful than gold.
Travis watched him with an amused smile as he hastily took off his satchel and struck a piece off the ledge. Helen stood wondering, looking not at Clay, but at Travis, and her eyes shone brilliantly and full of proud splendor.