"I surmised it," said the stranger. "That is a country I want to visit before I die. You have mines there, too."
"Yes, but they are a long way from where we live."
"My name is Fletcher—Dick Fletcher my friends call me."
"I am Harry Vane, and my friend is Jack Pendleton."
"We will drink to our better acquaintance. Here, John," addressing the barkeeper, "three glasses of ale here."
"If you won't mind, Jack and I will take sarsaparilla."
Fletcher stared at them in amazement.
"You don't drink ale?" he said.
"We belong to the temperance society," said Harry, smiling.
"You won't keep that up long at the mines," said Fletcher, shrugging his shoulders.