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Hancock, H. Irving (Harrie Irving), 1868-1922

"Or, Seeking Fortune on the Turn of a Pick"


Jim hastily jumped out of the way as Harry balanced the bar.
"Go and tell the men about the 'new one' you heard, Jim," laughed
Tom. "By the time you get back Harry will have the joke pried loose
with that bar of his."
"'Heard a new one'!" grunted Harry. But his look of disgust was
because it had taken him so long to penetrate the "sell."


CHAPTER XVIII
THE GODDESS OF FORTUNE SMILES WISTFULLY

"Haul away!" called Jim, from the bottom of the shaft.
Up came the tub, filled with chunks of ore, each about the size
of a man's head.
At the top stood Harry Hazelton, on the crust of two feet of frozen
snow.
Tom thrust his head out through the doorway of the nearby shack
in which the partners lived.
"Is Jim sending up any bricks" he inquired.
"He's sending up ore, but I don't know whether it's any good,"
Harry answered.
"Why don't you look the stuff over?"
"I haven't had the heart to look at it."
Close to the shaft stood a wagon. The horses were resting in
the stable shack, for by this time the weather averaged only a
few degrees above zero and the horses were brought out only when
they could be used.


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