n Jim and his companion returned
with the wagon-load of provisions, another day's work had been
done in the mine.

"Any color today?" was Ferrers's first question.

"No signs of gold," sighed Harry.

"I heard a new one over at Dugout City," Jim remarked carelessly.

"Heard a new one?" echoed Tom. "What was it?"

"A baby," Jim answered dryly.

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded. "What has a baby
to do with a 'new one'?"

When the men began to laugh Harry suddenly discovered the joke.

"That's all right, Jim," growled Harry. "But I know something
that would tickle you."

"A feather, or a straw," mocked Ferrers.

"No! A crowbar!" grunted Hazelton making a reach for a tool of
that description.

Jim hastily jumped out of the way as Harry balanced the bar.

"Go and tell the men about the 'new one' you heard, Jim," laughed
Tom. "By the time you get back Harry will have the joke pried loose
with that bar of his."

"'Heard a new one'!" grunted Harry. But his look of disgust was
because it had taken him so long to penetrate the "sell."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE GODDESS OF FORTUNE SMILES WISTFULLY

"Haul away!" called Jim, from the bottom of the shaft.

Up came the tub, filled with chunks of ore, each about the size
of a man's head.

At the top stood Harry Hazelton, on the crust of two feet of frozen
snow.

Tom thrust his head out through the doorway of the nearby shack
in which the partners lived.

"Is Jim sending up any bricks" he inquired.

"He's sending up ore, but I don't know whether it's any good,"
Harry answered.

"Why don't you look the stuff over?"

"I haven't had the heart to look at it."

Close to the shaft stood a wagon. The horses were resting in
the stable shack, for by this time the weather averaged only a
few degrees above zero and the horses were brought out only when
they could be used.

"Take a good look at the stuff, Harry," called Tom, as soon as
he saw two of the workmen dumping it.

Then Reade closed the door, and went back to the furnace that
he had rigged up under the chimney at one end of the shack.

"Oh, what's the use?" sighed Hazelton, to himself, as he paused,
irresolute. "In weeks and weeks we haven't brought up enough
gold to pay for the keep of the horses."

Still, as Tom had asked him to do so, Hazelton presently walked
over to the little pile that had just been dumped.

"You men up there work faster," sounded Jim's voice. "We want
to