"Stung, if this stuff proves anything," sighed Hazelton.
"You can't judge by one handful, Harry," Tom told him. "Besides,
we may have to get down twenty, or even fifty feet below surface
before we strike any pay-stuff. Don't look for dividends in the
first hour. I've been told that gold-mining calls for more sporting
blood than any other way in which wealth can be pursued."
"But I don't find a bit of color in this stuff," Harry muttered.
"If we're on the top of a vein of gold it seems to me that we
ought to find a small speck of yellow here and there."
A dozen blasts were made that morning. When the men knocked off
at noon Harry Hazelton's face bore a very serious expression.
"Tom," he murmured to his partner, "I'm afraid we have a gold brick
of a gold mine."
"It's an even chance," nodded Reade.
"And think of all the money---out of our savings---we've sunk
in this thing."
"I hope you're not going to get scared as early as this," protested
Tom. "Why, before we even get in sight of pay-rock we may have
to sink every dollar of our savings.
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