mmer
'ere. You 'old the drill for awhile and turn it, while I sling th'
sledge. Then you take th' 'ammer and Lor' 'ave mercy on my 'ands if
you miss."

Fairchild obeyed. They began the drilling of the first indentation
into the six-inch vein which lay before them. Hour after hour they
worked, changing positions, sending hole after hole into the narrow
discoloration which showed their only prospect of returns for the
investments which they had put into the mine. Then, as the afternoon
grew late, Harry disappeared far down the drift to return with a
handful of greasy, candle-like things, wrapped in waxed paper.

"I knew that dynamite of yours could n't be shipped in time, so I
bought a little up 'ere," he explained, as he cut one of the sticks in
two with a pocketknife and laid the pieces to one side. Then out came
a coil of fuse, to be cut to its regular lengths and inserted in the
copper-covered caps of fulminate of mercury, Harry showing his contempt
for the dangerous things by crimping them about the fuse with his
teeth, while Fairchild, sitting on a small pile of muck near by, begged
for caution. But Harry only grinned behind his big mustache and went
on.

Out came his pocketknife again as he slit the waxed paper of the
gelatinous sticks, then inserted the cap in the dynamite. One after
another the charges were shoved into the holes, Harry tamping them into
place with a steel rod, instead of with the usual wooden affair, his
mustache brushing his shoulder as he turned to explain the virtues of
dynamite when handled by an expert.

"It's all in the wye you do it," he announced. "If you don't strike
fire with a steel rod, it's fine."

"But if you do?"

"Oh, then!" Harry laughed. "Then it's flowers and a funeral--after
they 've finished picking you up."

One after another he pressed the dynamite charges tight into the drill
holes and tamped them with muck wrapped in a newspaper that he dragged
from his hip pocket. Then he lit the fuses from his lamp and stood a
second in assurance that they all were spluttering.

"Now we run!" he announced, and they hurried, side by side, down the
drift tunnel until they reached the shaft. "Far enough," said Harry.

A long moment of waiting. Then the earth quivered and a muffled,
booming roar came from the distance. Harry stared at his carbide lamp.

"One," he announced. Then, "Two."

Three, four and five followed, all counted seriously, carefully by
Harry.