His work was done, and no buccaneer ever gloated more over hidden
treasure than Jason over the prize discovered by him and known of
nobody else in the world. He raised his head and looked up the
shimmering black face of his find. He took up his pick again and
notched foot-holes in each side of the yellow ditch. He marked his
own height on the face of the column, and, climbing up along it,
measured his full length again, and yet with outstretched arm he
could barely touch the top of the vein with the tips of his
fingers. No vein half that thick had the rock-pecker with all his
searching found, and the lad gave a long, low whistle of happy
amazement. A moment later he dropped his pick, climbed over the
pile of new dirt, emerged at the mouth of the passage, and sat
down as if on guard in the grateful coolness of the little ravine.
Drawing one long breath, he looked proudly back once more and
began shaking his head wisely. They couldn't fool him. He knew
what that mighty vein of coal was worth. Other people--fools--
might sell their land for a dollar or two an acre, even old Jason,
his grandfather, but not the Jason Hawn who had dug that black
giant out of the side of the mountain.

"Go away, boy," the rock-pecker had said, "Get an education. Leave
this farm alone--it won't run away. By the time you are twenty-
one, an acre of it will be worth as much as all of it is now."

No, they couldn't fool him. He would keep his find a secret from
every soul on earth--even from his grandfather and Mavis, both of
whom he had already been tempted to tell. He rose to his feet with
the resolution and crouched suddenly, listening hard. Something
was coming swiftly toward him through the undergrowth on the other
side of the creek, and he reached stealthily for his rifle, sank