"Well, now, let me see--" and his glance roved about the room.

"There is Mr.Schlessinger, the Egyptologist, but of course he was after mummies, not dirt; and then there is--yes--that sun-burned young fellow of forty, talking to Mr.
Eastman Johnson; he has been at work in Yucatan looking for Toltec ruins, because he told me his experience only a few nights ago; but then, of course, that can hardly be said to be--Oh!--now I have it.
You see that tall man with side-whiskers, looking like a young bank president--my kind--my boy--well, he started life with a pick and shovel.

The steel point of the pick if I remember rightly, turned up a nugget of gold that made him rich, but he DUG all the same, and he may again some day--you can't tell." It had all been a delightful experience for Jack and his face showed it, but it was not until after I left that the story of why he had come late was told.

He had started several times to explain but the constant interruption of members anxious to shake Peter's hand, had always prevented.
"I haven't apologized for being late, sir," Jack had said at last.

"It was long after ten, I am afraid, but I could not help it." "No; what was the matter ?" "I didn't get the letter until half an hour before I reached here." "Why, I sent it to your uncle's house, and mailed it myself, just after you had gone out with Miss MacFarlane." "Yes, sir; but I am not at my uncle's house any more.