air reached the young engineers as the
oven door of the portable assay furnace was thrown open. The
crucibles were raked out and set in the air to cool.

"Would fanning the crucibles with my hat do any good?" asked Hazelton
eagerly.

"Some," yawned Tom, "if you're impatient."

Reade strolled off under the trees, whistling softly to himself.
Jim Ferrers smoked a little faster, the only sign he gave of
the anxiety that was consuming him. Harry frequently sprang to
his feet, walked up and down rapidly, then sat down again. Two
or three times Hazelton burned his fingers, testing to see whether
the crucibles were cool enough to handle. At last Tom strolled
back, his gaze on the dial of his watch.

"Cool enough for a look, now, I think," Reade announced.

Harry bounded eagerly toward the crucibles, feeling them with
his hands.

"Plenty cool enough," he reported. "But how did you guess, Tom?"

"I didn't guess," Reade laughed. "I've timed the crucibles before
this, and I know to a minute how long it ought to take."

"What a chump I am!" growled Harry, in contempt for self. "I
never think of such things as that."

Tom now carefully emptied the crucibles. In the bottom of each
was found a tiny bead of half-lustrous metal, which miners and
assayers term the "button."

"The real stuff!" glowed Hazelton.

"Ye-es," said Tom slowly. "But the next question is whether the
buttons will weigh enough to hint at good-paying ore. Even at
that, these buttons are only from surface ore."

"But the ore underneath is always better than the surface ore,"
contended Hazelton.

"Usually is," Tom corrected. "If we get good enough results from
this assay it will at least be worth while to stake a claim and
work it for a while."

Harry waited with feverish impatience. Tom Reade, on the other
hand, was almost provokingly slow and cool as he carefully adjusted
the sensitive assaying balance and finally weighed the buttons.
Then he did some slow, painstaking calculating. At last he looked up.

"Well, sir?" asked Jim Ferrers.

"From this surface ore," replied Tom calmly, "twenty-eight dollars
in gold to the ton; silver, six dollars."

"That's good enough for me!" cried Ferrers, his eyes brightening.

"Wow! Whoop! Oh---whee!" vented Harry, then ran and snatched
up the surveying transit.

"Yes; I guess we'd better go along and do our staking," assented Tom.

"And I'll be ready at daylight to file the claim at Dugout Ci