Finally Stoddard
observed, smiling:
"You're the very man I wanted to see, Uncle Pros. I rang up the house
just now, but Johnnie said you had started down to the mills. What do
you think I've found out about our mine?"
Certainly the old man looked very tall and dignified in his new
splendours; but now he was all boy, leaning eagerly forward to
half whisper:
"I don't know--what?"
Stoddard's face was scarcely less animated as he searched hastily in the
pigeon-holes of his desk. The patent might have a company to manage its
affairs, but the mine on Big Unaka was sacred to these two, in whom the
immortal urchin sufficiently survived to make mine-hunting and
exploiting delectable employment.
"Why, Uncle Pros, it isn't silver at all. It's--" Gray looked up and
caught the woeful drop of the face before him, and hastened on to add,
"It's better than silver--it's nickel. The price of silver fluctuates;
but the world supply of nickel is limited, and nickel's a sure thing."
Pros Passmore leaned back in his chair, digesting this new bit of
information luxuriously.
"Nickel," he said reflectively. And again he repeated the word to
himself. "Nickel. Well, I don't know but what that's finer. Leastways,
it's likelier. To say a silver mine, always seemed just like taking
money out of the ground; but then, nickels are money too--and enough of
'em is all a body needs.
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