"I know of no Ralph. Whose son are you?"
"My father is Gideon Nixon."
"My oldest brother?"
"Yes."
"How did you know where I lived?"
"A man came to Stamford who had been here. Learning my name, he told us he knew a man named Nixon out here. He said you were old and feeble, and father thought I had better come out and look you up."
"It wasn't worth while. I am a poor old man, and I can do you no good."
"Are you poor?" asked Ralph, his tone betraying his disappointment.
"Look around you and judge for yourself," returned the old man, eying his nephew with a glance of mingled curiosity and shrewdness.
"I was told in the village that you were interested in some mines."