nippers--the inevitable accompaniment of a miner--came forth from the
pockets of the men. Careful tamping, then the men took their places at
the fuses.

"Give the word!" one of them announced crisply as he turned to
Fairchild. "Each of us 'll light one of these things, and then I say
we 'll run! Because this is going to be some explosion!"

Fairchild smiled the smile of a man whose heart is thumping at its
maximum speed. Before him in the long line of the foot wall were ten
holes, "up-holes", "downs" and "swimmers", attacking the hidden ore in
every direction. Ten holes drilled six feet into the rock and tamped
with double charges of dynamite. He straightened.

"All right, men! Ready?"

"Ready!"

"Touch 'em off!"

The carbide lamps were held close to the fuses for a second. Soon they
were all going, spitting like so many venomous, angry serpents--but
neither Fairchild nor the miners had stopped to watch. They were
running as hard as possible for the shaft and for the protection that
distance might give. A wait that seemed ages. Then:

"One!"

"And two--and three!"

"There goes four and five--they went together!"

"Six--seven--eight--nine--"

Again a wait, while they looked at one another with vacuous eyes. A
long interval until the tenth.

"Two went together then! I thought we 'd counted nine?" The foreman
stared, and Fairchild studied. Then his face lighted.

"Eleven 's right. One of them must have set off the charge that Harry
left in there. All the better--it gives us just that much more of a
chance."

Back they went along the drift tunnel now, coughing slightly as the
sharp smoke of the dynamite cut their lungs. A long journey that
seemed as many miles instead of feet. Then with a shout, Fairchild
sprang forward, and went to his hands and knees.

It was there before him--all about him--the black, heavy masses of
lead-silver ore, a great, heaping, five-ton pile of it where it had
been thrown out by the tremendous force of the explosion. It seemed
that the whole great floor of the cavern was covered with it, and the
workmen shouted with Fairchild as they seized bits of the precious
black stuff and held it to the light for closer examination.

"Look!" The voice of one of them was high and excited. "You can see
the fine streaks of silver sticking out! It's high-grade and plenty of
it!"

But Fairchild paid little attention. He was playing in the stuff,
throwing it in the a