been hunting over the ground in search of gold-reefs. They reported that they had found a good auriferous vein in a corner of the tract, approachable by adit-levels; but, unfortunately, only a few yards of the lode lay within the limits of Sir Charles's area. The remainder ran on at once into what was locally known as Craig-Ellachie's section.
However, our prospectors had been canny, they said; though young Mr. Granton was prospecting at the same time, in the self-same ridge, not very far from them, his miners had failed to discover the auriferous quartz; so our men had held their tongues about it, wisely leaving it for Charles to govern himself accordingly.
'Can you dispute the boundary?' I asked.
'Impossible,' Charles answered. 'You see, the limit is a meridian of longitude. There's no getting over that. Can't pretend to deny it. No buying over the sun! No bribing the instruments! Besides, we drew the line ourselves. We've only one way out of it, Sey. Amalgamate! Amalgamate!'
Charles is a marvellous man! The very voice in which he murmured that blessed word 'Amalgamate!' was in itself a poem.
'Capital!' I answered. 'Say nothing about it, and join forces with Craig-Ellachie.'
Charles closed one eye pensively.
That very same evening came a telegram in cipher from our chief engineer on the territory of the option: 'Young Granton has somehow given
