Part 30 (1/2)
”I'm through here,” muttered Leon, s.n.a.t.c.hing off his ap.r.o.n. ”That is, just as soon as I've squared up accounts with that kid.”
”Then you'd better put your ap.r.o.n on again,” Jim drawled, humorously.
”It takes longer than you've got left to live when any one goes after Tom Reade to get even.”
”Jim Ferrers, you know me well enough,” remarked Leon, reaching for his hat. ”Most times I'm peaceable, but when I get started I'm a bad man.”
”Exactly,” nodded Jim undisturbed. ”That's why you can never hope to come out on top in a row with Mr. Reade. While you may be a bad man, he's a good man---and ALL MAN! You don't stand any show with that kind. Hang up your hat, Leon. Here's your ap.r.o.n. Put it on and stay with us. When you cool down you can stay right along here and take lessons in the art of being a real man!”
Jim Ferrers strolled out of the shack, leaving the vanquished cook in a towering rage. By degrees the expression on the fellow's face altered. Ten minutes later he was at work---at cook's duties.
CHAPTER XV
WHY READE WANTED GOLD
Four weeks moved on rapidly. All too rapidly, in some respects, to please Engineer Harry Hazelton.
Sheriff's officers had ridden into camp, and had scoured that part of the country, in an effort to locate Dolph Gage and that worthy's friends. Just where the four vagabonds were now no man knew, save themselves.
However, another spectre had settled down over the camp. The truth was that the young engineers were now using up the last thousand dollars of their combined savings.
By way of income, less than fifty dollars' worth of gold and silver had been mined. Every few days some promising-looking ore was turned out, but it never came in sufficient quant.i.ties. None of this ore had yet been moved toward Dugout City. There wasn't enough of it to insure good results. Brilliant in streaks, still the mine looked like a commercial fizzle.
”Hang it, the gold is down there!” grunted Tom, staring gloomily at the big cut that had been blasted and dug out along the top of the ridge.
”I'll be tremendously happy when you show me a little more of it,”
smiled Hazelton weakly.
”It's lower down,” argued Tom. ”We've got to dig deeper---and then a lot deeper.”
”On the capital that we have left?” ventured Harry.
”Oh, we may strike enough, any day, to stake us for a few weeks longer,” urged Tom.
”We'll soon have to be working in covered outs, where the frost won't put up trouble for us, you know,” Hazelton hinted.
”Yes; I know that, of course. What we must begin to do, soon, is to sink the shaft deeper and then tunnel.”
”That will cost a few thousand dollars, Tom.”
”I know it. Come on, Harry. Get a shovel.”
Tom himself s.n.a.t.c.hed up a pick.
”What are you going to do, Tom?”
”Work. You and I are strong and enduring. We can save the wages of two workmen.”
Both young engineers worked furiously that afternoon. Yet, when knocking-off time came, they had to admit that they had no better basis for hope.