"Not so much," Tom replied cheerily. "We're in a bad streak of stuff, Harry. But I thought you were watching the dump. What's the matter? Too cold out there?"
"Yes," nodded Harry. "I feel like a last year's cold storage egg. Don't you want to spell me a bit out there, Tom? I can run the furnace in here."
"Certainly," Reade agreed, leaping up. "There's nothing to do, now, but weigh the button when it cools."
"Did you really get a button?" Harry asked, casually, as he drew off his heavy overcoat.
"Yes; a small one."
"How much ore did you take it from?"
"About two tons, I should say."
"Then, if the button is worth sixty cents," mocked Harry, "it will show that our ore is running thirty cents to the ton."
"Oh, we'll have better ore, after a while," Tom laughed.
"We've got to have," grunted Hazelton, "or else we'll have to walk all the way to our next job."