A light gleamed ahead, and the sound of a single jack hammering on the end of a drill could be heard. Fairchild called and went forward, to find Harry, grimy and sweating, pounding away at a narrow streak of black formation which centered in the top of the stope.
"It's the vein," he announced, after he had greeted Fairchild, "and it don't look like it's going to amount to much!"
"No?"
Harry withdrew the drill from the hole he was making and mopped his forehead.
"It ain't a world-beater," came disconsolately. "I doubt whether it 'll run more 'n twenty dollars to the ton, the wye smelting prices 'ave gone up! And there ain't much money in that. What 'appened in Denver?"
"Another frame-up by the Rodaines to get the mine away from us. It was a lawyer. He stalled that the offer had been made to us by Miss Richmond."
"How much?"
"Two hundred thousand dollars and us to get out of all the troubles we are in."
"And you took it, of course?"
"I did not!"