Harry got drowsily out of his bunk.
"Why didn't you call me before, Tom?"
"Well, to tell the truth, I was too busy. But now you may have a few hours' work all by yourself, while I turn in," drawled Reade.
"Tom, old fellow, there's something up," discovered Hazelton, now studying his chum's face keenly. "Out with it."
Then Tom told of the day's luck, though he cautioned Harry against too soon growing elated.
"We'll just wait and hope," Reade finished. "Now I'll show you the work that's on the bench."
The gold news had waked up Hazelton. He examined eagerly the assay reports that Tom had filled out, then turned to the specimens that awaited his attention.
At six in the morning Reade was up again, nor did Harry turn in. Both were present to inspect the first tub-lot of ore that came up the shaft. The yellow streak was continuing.
By the middle of the afternoon, however, the streak played out. Though the men worked an hour overtime they did not succeed in sending up any more ore.
"Just one pocket?" wondered Tom. "Or does our vein run in scattered pockets?"