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

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

Don't you want to spell me a bit out there, Tom? I can
run the furnace in here."
"Certainly," Reade agreed, leaping up. "There's nothing to do,
now, but weigh the button when it cools."
"Did you really get a button?" Harry asked, casually, as he drew
off his heavy overcoat.
"Yes; a small one."
"How much ore did you take it from?"
"About two tons, I should say."
"Then, if the button is worth sixty cents," mocked Harry, "it
will show that our ore is running thirty cents to the ton."
"Oh, we'll have better ore, after a while," Tom laughed.
"We've got to have," grunted Hazelton, "or else we'll have to
walk all the way to our next job."
"Just weigh the button, when it cools, and enter the weight on
this page of the notebook," directed Reade, then went for his
own outdoor clothing. "Have you been inspecting the dump as the
stuff came up?"
"You'll think me a fool," cried Harry, "but I totally forgot it."
"No matter," Tom answered cheerily. "I've been doing bench work
so long in here that I need exercise.


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