I can run over all the
stuff."
After Reade had pulled on his overcoat and buttoned it he fastened
a belt around his waist. Through this he thrust a geologist's
hammer.
"Don't go to sleep, Harry, old fellow, until you've cooled and
weighed the button. Then you may just as well take a nap as not."
"There he goes," muttered Hazelton, as the door closed briskly.
"Faith and enthusiasm are keeping Tom up. He could work twenty-four
hours and never feel it. I wish I had some of his faith in this
ridge. I could work better for it. Humph! I'm afraid the ridge
will never yield anything better than clay for brick-making!"
Harry did succeed in keeping his eyes open long enough to attend
to the button. That tiny object weighed, and the weight entered,
Hazelton sat back in his chair. Within a minute his eyes had
closed and he was asleep.
Tom Reade, out at the ore dump, looked anything but sleepy. With
tireless energy he turned over the pieces of rock, pausing, now
and then, to hold up one for inspection.
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