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

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

"I'll amuse you with some stories about
blizzards on this Range in years past."
Outside they could hear axes ringing against the trees. Then
the dinner-horn called the men in. Soon after the meal was over
all the horses in camp were hitched and employed in bringing in
the wood. Harry was out again to superintend the men.
By half-past two the first big flakes began to come down. There
was still no wind to speak of.
Tom had lain down in a bunk, leaving Jim to brighten the fire.
Ferrers, too, nodded in his chair. It was the howling of the
wind that awoke Tom.
"Where's Harry?" he asked, sitting up.
"Eh?" queried! Ferrers, opening his eyes.
"Where's Harry! Is he out in this storm?"
"I've been dozing," Jim confessed. "I don't know where he is."
"Hear the wind howl," cried Tom, leaping from his bunk and pulling
on his shoes. Then he rapidly finished dressing, Jim, in the
meantime, lighting the reflector lamp.
"Where on earth can Harry be?" Tom again demanded.


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