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

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


"Arizona may be hot, but I'd rather do my mining down there, anyway,"
thought the young engineer. "If I could move about more, this
wouldn't be so bad."
Just off of the shaft was a rough shack several feet square which
contained a small cylinder of a wood stove. There was a fire
going in the stove, now, but Harry knew from experience that if
he went in to the stove to get warm, he would only feel the cold
more severely when he came out again.
"Say, I don't know why I couldn't run that furnace as well as
Tom, and he likes this cold stuff better than I do," murmured
Hazelton. "I am going to see if he won't swap jobs for a couple
of hours."
"Getting anything out of those ore-tests of yesterday's dump?"
Harry demanded, entering their shack.
"Not so much," Tom replied cheerily. "We're in a bad streak of
stuff, Harry. But I thought you were watching the dump. What's
the matter? Too cold out there?"
"Yes," nodded Harry. "I feel like a last year's cold storage
egg.


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