and have the smelter's check in hand. We'll hope---and
pray---but we won't cheer just yet."

"Humph! If you don't want us to cheer, then what shall we do?"
demanded big Walsh.

"We'll work!" Tom retorted energetically. "We'll work as we never
did before. We'll keep things moving every minute of the time.
Back with you into the shaft and out into the tunnel! You hoist-men
stand by for a big performance with the tub. Jennison, you may
stay up from below and tote specimens for me. I shall be at the
furnace until midnight at the least."

"I'll tote for you till daylight, if the good streak only holds
out," laughed Jennison, with glowing eyes.

"Come softly into the shack when you do come," Tom directed.
"I'm going to put Mr. Hazelton to bed, and I don't want any one
to wake him. When I play out tonight he'll have to be fresh enough
to take my place at the assay bench and furnace."

Softly Tom entered their shack.

Harry lay fast asleep, breathing heavily.

"This won't do, old fellow," spoke Tom gently, shaking his chum's
shoulder. "No; don't wake up. Just get into bed. I may want
to turn in later, and, when I do, I may have some work left over
that I'll want you to do."

"Anything up?" asked Harry drowsily.

"I'm going to be busy for a while, and then I want you to be,"
Tom answered.

He half pushed his chum toward the narrow bunk against the wall.
Drowsy Hazelton needed no urging, but stretched himself out in
his bunk.

Tom drew the blankets up over him, adding:

"Don't stir until I call you."

Hour after hour the men below in the mine sent up tub-lots of
rock. Jim spent half of his time above ground, the rest below.
Jennison was busy bringing the best samples in to Reade, but
he walked so softly that Harry slept peacefully on.

Still the yellow rock came up. None of it looked like the richest
sort of ore, but it was good gold-bearing stuff, none the less.
Tom made many assays. It was seven in the evening ere the excited
miners would agree to knock off work for the day.

Then Tom quit and had supper with them. There was excitement
in the air, but Tom still counseled patience.

"We'll know more in a week than we do now," he urged.

"That's all right, Mr. Reade," laughed Tim Walsh. "As long as
you were hopeful we didn't bring up enough yellow to pay for the
dynamite we used in blasting. Now, boss, you're begging us not
to be hopeful, and the luck is changing."

"I'm not kicking agai