"Now I'll show you
the work that's on the bench."
The gold news had waked up Hazelton. He examined eagerly the
assay reports that Tom had filled out, then turned to the specimens
that awaited his attention.
At six in the morning Reade was up again, nor did Harry turn in.
Both were present to inspect the first tub-lot of ore that came
up the shaft. The yellow streak was continuing.
By the middle of the afternoon, however, the streak played out.
Though the men worked an hour overtime they did not succeed in
sending up any more ore.
"Just one pocket?" wondered Tom. "Or does our vein run in scattered
pockets?"
"Oh, we'll find more pockets soon," predicted Harry cheerily.
"Our luck has turned again. It's running in the old channels."
A feverish week passed. Towards its end the first big snow of
the winter came, and the ridge was shut off from the rest of the
world. It would have been all but impossible to get over even
to the Bright Hope Mine.
The week of brisk work was using up the stock of dynamite, while
the rock was too hard to work much with picks.
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