Up came the tub, filled with chunks of ore, each about the size of a man's head.
At the top stood Harry Hazelton, on the crust of two feet of frozen snow.
Tom thrust his head out through the doorway of the nearby shack in which the partners lived.
"Is Jim sending up any bricks" he inquired.
"He's sending up ore, but I don't know whether it's any good,"
Harry answered.
"Why don't you look the stuff over?"
"I haven't had the heart to look at it."
Close to the shaft stood a wagon. The horses were resting in the stable shack, for by this time the weather averaged only a few degrees above zero and the horses were brought out only when they could be used.
"Take a good look at the stuff, Harry," called Tom, as soon as he saw two of the workmen dumping it.
Then Reade closed the door, and went back to the furnace that he had rigged up under the chimney at one end of the shack.