Part 37 (1/2)

”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 pa.s.sed. 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. Moreover, the money of the partners was gone. To seek credit at Dugout would be a dangerous proceeding, for those who granted the accommodation of credit would be sure to want a high price for it, even to a goodly share in the output of the mine. More than one mine has been taken over by creditors, and the original owners have gone out into the world again, poor men.

Sat.u.r.day morning of this week Tom and Harry descended the shaft together. Jim was already there with the men.

”I thought we had two more boxes of dynamite, Reade,” explained Ferrers. ”I find that we have just six sticks left.”

”Then may the Fates favor us with some lucky blasts!”, muttered Tom.

”We can borrow money on our ore dump,” suggested Harry.

”How about that?” asked Tom, looking intently at Ferrers.

”How much do you figure there is in the dump?” queried Jim.

”About two hundred dollars' worth of metal.”

Ferrers shook his head.

”It would cost us forty dollars to cart the stuff to Dugout in the Spring. Then there'd be the smelter's charges. We couldn't borrow more than fifty dollars on such security. No bank is going to bother with such a small item.”

Tom said nothing, but went forward to the heading of the tunnel.

Here he made a careful examination ere he ordered the men to go ahead.

One after another five sticks of the dynamite were fired in small blasts, but the ore that came out did not suggest hope.

Then another drilling was made, and the sixth stick put in place, the magneto wires being connected with the charge.

Tom himself seized the magneto handle.

”Now, hold your breaths,” he called, cheerily. ”This blast means a lot, and then a bit more, to all of us. This blast may point the path to fortune!”

CHAPTER XIX

HARRY'S SIGNAL OF DISTRESS

Through the tunnel a dull boom sounded. Then, as if by a common impulse, all hands rushed back to the heading.

”Hard rock!” muttered Reade. ”The blast didn't make much of a dent. Hand me a pick, one of you.”

Then Tom swung it with all the force and skill of which he was possessed.

Some of the miners, who thought themselves strong men, looked on admiringly as Tom swung the pick again and again.

Clack! clack! clack!