As Phil was leaving to go to his father, Sam said: “I’ll take good care of everything for you.” “All right! thanks, and good-by!” called Phil heartily. Phil’s father was very much surprised to see him; no message had been sent; and he was well but none the less glad to see Phil. Phil wrote to Sam at once, but as he received no reply wrote again and again. He did not need money, as his father had given him more than enough, but he feared that some ill had befallen his friend. As Phil left the stagecoach on his return home, three months later, he at once sought Mollie; he had received no letter from her during his absence, although he had repeatedly written. He knocked, and Mollie herself opened the door. Phil reached out his hand in glad greeting; she drew back coldly. “Is there anything you wish, sir?” as she would address a stranger. Phil’s face flushed hotly, then went deadly pale. He looked at her reproachfully. “I think not,” he replied sadly, as he turned away. With natures such as these a tragedy may occur unobserved by the bystander. To Phil the sun seemed to have set, all looked so dark and gloomy. As he swung off over the lonely mountain trail, the gurgling water in the brook below seemed to mock him; the scent of the springing vegetation caused a feeling of irritation, his heart was so full of bitter disappointment. Lonely and more lonely grew the way; no life save himself, he just a dark speck upon that yellow trail crawling up the mountain side. Even his panting breath seemed to disturb the dead calm, as he paused—taking off his hat—to look up to his cabin. He shaded his eyes, and looked eagerly. Only a blackened spot marked where his home—humble, but still a home—had stood. He looked higher up the side of the mountain to where the Mollie Branscome lay; he drew his breath sharply; where he had left a windlass and bucket, a frame shafthouse arose. The sharp spurt of steam rising on the fast chilling air denoted a perfectly set valve; he saw hurrying forms of men at work; he shut his teeth hard together, a fiery red spot rising in either cheek. He felt neither fatigue nor depression now; he breathed stertoriously as he toiled up the steep trail. Sam was the first person that he met. Phil pointed to a name above the shafthouse door: “The New Discovery.” “What does that mean?” he demanded hoarsely. “What’s it to you?” answered Sam derisively.