"Come right into the house with me, my man," said Mr. March; "my wife'll make you a cup of hot tea." "Oh, thank you!" said the man. "I've been thinkin' I'd give all the ore in this 'ere wagon for a first-rate cup of tea. I don't never carry tea: only coffee; but I've turned against coffee these last two days;" and he followed Mr. March into the house. "What'd you say you had in your wagon?" asked Rob, who had been standing by. "Ore," said the man. The only word Rob knew which had that sound was "oar." "Oar!" he said. "Why, I didn't see any thing but rocks." Mr. March and the man both laughed. "Not 'oar,' to row with, Rob," said Mr. March; "but 'ore,' to make money out of." "Silver ore, I suppose," he added, turning to the man. "Yes," he said; "from the Moose mine, up on Mount Lincoln." Rob's eyes grew big. "Oh! tell me about it," he said. And Nelly, coming up closer, exclaimed, in a tone unusually eager for her, "And me too. Is the mountain made of silver, like the mountains in fairy stories?" The man was drinking his tea, and did not answer. He drank it in great mouthfuls, though it was scalding hot. "Oh, ma'am," he said, "I haven't tasted any thing that went right to the spot's that does, for months; if it wouldn't trouble ye too much, I'd like one more cup." He drank the second cup as quickly as he had the first; then he leaned his head back in the chair, and said: "I feel like a new man now. I guess that was the medicine I needed. I reckon I can go on this afternoon." "No," said Mr. March: "you ought to stay here till to-morrow. There is an old leather-covered settee in the barn you're welcome to sleep on. It will be better than the ground; and we'll doctor you with hot tea, night and morning." "You're very kind," said the man: "I don't know but I'd better stay." "Oh, do! do!" said Rob; and "do do!" said Nelly. "Stay and tell us all about the mountain of silver and the Moose; does the Moose draw out the silver?" You see Rob and Nelly couldn't get it out of their heads that it was all like a fairy tale. And so it is when you think of it, more wonderful than almost any fairy tale, to think how great mountains are full of silver and of gold, and men can burrow deep down into them, and get out all the silver and gold they need. "Oh, there isn't any real Moose," said the man. "That's only the name of the mine. I don't know why they called the mine the Moose mine. They give mines the queerest kind o' names." "What is a mine, anyhow?" asked Rob. "Oh," said the man, "I forgot you didn't know that. A mine's a hole in the ground, or in the side of a mountain, where they dig out gold or silver. There's mines that's miles and miles big, underground, with passages running every way like streets." "How do they see down there?" said Rob. "They carry lanterns, and there are lanterns fastened up in the walls." "Is your wagon all full of silver?" asked Nelly, in a low tone.