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

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


He half pushed his chum toward the narrow bunk against the wall.
Drowsy Hazelton needed no urging, but stretched himself out in
his bunk.
Tom drew the blankets up over him, adding:
"Don't stir until I call you."
Hour after hour the men below in the mine sent up tub-lots of
rock. Jim spent half of his time above ground, the rest below.
Jennison was busy bringing the best samples in to Reade, but
he walked so softly that Harry slept peacefully on.
Still the yellow rock came up. None of it looked like the richest
sort of ore, but it was good gold-bearing stuff, none the less.
Tom made many assays. It was seven in the evening ere the excited
miners would agree to knock off work for the day.
Then Tom quit and had supper with them. There was excitement
in the air, but Tom still counseled patience.
"We'll know more in a week than we do now," he urged.
"That's all right, Mr. Reade," laughed Tim Walsh. "As long as
you were hopeful we didn't bring up enough yellow to pay for the
dynamite we used in blasting.


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