Keith, meantime, was busy poring over plats and verifying lines.

The old squire came to town a morning or two later.  “I see Mr. Wickersham’s struck coal at last,” he said to Keith, after he had got his pipe lit.  His face showed that he was brimming with information.

“Yes—­our coal.”  Keith showed him the plats.  “He is over our line—­I do not know just where, but in here somewhere.”

The old fellow put on his spectacles and looked long and carefully.

“He says he owns it all; that he’ll have us suin’ for pardon?”

“Suing for damages.”

The old squire gave a chuckle of satisfaction.  “He is in and about there.”  He pointed with a stout and horny finger.

“How did you know?”

“Well, you see, little Dave Dennison—­you remember Dave?  You taught him.”

“Perfectly—­I mean, I remember him perfectly.  He is now in New York.”

“Yes.  Well, Dave he used to be sweet on Phrony, and he seems to be still sweet on her.”

Mr. Keith nodded.

“Well, of course, Phrony she’s lookin’ higher than Dave—­but you know how women air?”

“I don’t know—­I know they are strange creatures,” said Keith, almost with a sigh, as his past with one woman came vividly before him.

“Well, they won’t let a man go, noway, not entirely—­unless he’s in the way.  So, though Phrony don’t keer nothin’ in the world about Dave, she sort o’ kep’ him on-an’-off-like till this here young Wickersham come down here.  You know, I think she and him like each other?  He’s been to see her twicet and is always a—­writin’ to her?” His voice had an inquiry in it; but Keith took no notice of it, and the old man went on.

“Well, since then she’s sort of cooled off to Dave—­won’t have him around—­and Dave’s got sort of sour.  Well, he hates Wickersham, and he up and told her t’other night ’t Wickersham was the biggest rascal in New York; that he had ’most broke his father and had put the stock of this here new mine on the market, an’ that he didn’t have coal enough in it to fill his hat; that he’d been down in it an’ that the coal all come out of our mine.”

Keith’s eyes glistened.

“Exactly.”

“Well, with that she got so mad with Dave, she wouldn’t speak to him; and Dave left, swearin’ he’d settle Wickersham and show him up, and he’ll do it if he can.”

“Where is he?” asked Keith, in some anxiety.  “Tell him not to do anything till I see him.”

“No; I got hold of him and straightened him out.  He told me all about it.  He was right much cut up.  He jest cried about Phrony.”

Keith wrote a note to Wickersham.  He referred to the current rumors that the cutting had run over on their side, suggesting, however, that it might have been by inadvertence.