The train reached Chicago at morning. And now I was in the midst of a whirl and a roar--a confused babbling at the base of Babel's tower. And as I walked up a street I thought that a tornado had broken loose and that I was in the center of it. I called a hackman, for my reading taught me what to do, and I told him to drive me to the Rookery. He rattled away and came within one of being upset by other vehicles, and I yelled at him to be more particular, but on he went, paying no attention to me. After a while he drew up in front of a building as big as a lopped-off spur of a mountain range; and when I got out I found that the vitals of the hurricane had shifted with me, for the roar and the confusion was worse, was gathering new forces. But no one laughed at me, no one pointed me out, and I really felt quite pleased with myself--a school-teacher, a lawyer's assistant, expected by a capitalist! I went under a marble arch-way, and asked a man if he knew Clarm & Ging, and he pointed to an elevator--I knew what it was--and shouted a number. I got in and was shot to the eighth floor. I knocked at a door, but no one opened it. There was no bell to ring, so I knocked louder and still no one opened the door. This was hardly the courtesy that I expected. But while I was standing there a man came along and went in without knocking. I thought that he must be one of the men I was looking for, and I followed him, but he simply looked round after going in and then went out again without saying anything. I saw a man sitting at a desk, and I handed him the card which the hardware dealer had given me. He looked at it and said: "Yes, you are Hawes, eh? Where's your mica." I gave it to him, and he looked at it closely through a microscope. "How deep have you gone?" "Not more than six inches." "That so? Much of this size?" "Train loads, I should think." "Ah, hah. How much land does it cover?" "Don't know exactly. Haven't investigated." And this question set me to thinking. The mine was well on my land, but it might spread out beyond my lines. It was important that I should buy several acres surrounding the stretch of moss, and I decided to do this immediately upon my return home. "Let's see," said the capitalist. "This is Friday. Mr. Clarm is out of town and will not be back until Monday--has a summer home in St. Jo, Mich., and is over there. It's just across the lake. Suppose we go over there to-morrow morning. Boat leaves at nine. Be a pleasant trip. All right." He resumed his work as if my acceptance of his proposition was a foreshadowed necessity. "How did you happen to find it?" he asked, without looking up from his work. "I was digging for angle worms." He grunted. "Didn't find any worms, did you?" "No, I don't think I did." "I know you didn't. Worms and mica don't exist in the same soil. Very rugged?" "Rocks on each side."