it's equal."

"There is none like it in all the world," went on the Russian, "and
perhaps there never can be any more. I have only a small supply. But in
Siberia--in the lost mine--there is a large quantity of it, as pure as
this, needing only a little refining.

"Can't we get some from there?" asked the young inventor eagerly. "I
should think the Russian government would mine it, and export it."

"They would--if they could find it," said Ivan Petrofsky dryly, "but
they can't--no one can find it--and I have tried very hard--so hard, in
fact, that it is the reason for my coming to this country--that and the
desire to find and aid my brother, who is a Siberian exile."

"This is getting interesting," remarked Ned to Tom in a low voice, and
the young inventor nodded.

"My brother Peter, who is younger than I by a few years, and I, are the
last of our family," began Mr. Petrofsky, motioning Tom and Ned to take
chairs. "We lived in St. Petersburg, and early in life, though we were
of the nobility, we took up the cause of the common people."

"Nihilists?" asked Ned eagerly, for he had read something of these
desperate men.

"No, and not anarchists," said Mr. Petrofsky with a sad smile. "Our
party was opposed to violence, and we depended on education to aid our
cause. Then, too, we did all we could in a quiet way to help the poor.
My brother and I invented several life-saving and labor-saving machines