"Hey, Tom!" Harry called down, from the top of their shaft, now one hundred and thirty feet down into the ground.
"Yes!" Reade answered from below, making a trumpet of his hands.
"Doing anything?" Harry bawled.
"Not much. Why?"
"If you want to come up I'll show you something."
"What?"
"The first snow of winter is falling." Harry tried to speak jovially, but his tone was almost sepulchral.
"Yes, I'll come up, then," Tom Reade answered. "It's high time for us to see to building a shelter that will keep out of the shaft the big snows that are coming."
"The big snows are likely to be here, now, within a week," remarked
one of the miners who had paused to rest from digging for a moment.
"Men!" bawled Tom, stepping from the long into the short tunnel.
"All hands knock off and go up to the surface."
There was a tub hand-hoist for carrying up ore, but the men always used the series of ladders that had been built in on the side of the shaft. Two minutes later these ladders swarmed with men going above.