"Oh, we'll find more pockets soon," predicted Harry cheerily.
"Our luck has turned again. It's running in the old channels."
A feverish week passed. Towards its end the first big snow of the winter came, and the ridge was shut off from the rest of the world. It would have been all but impossible to get over even to the Bright Hope Mine.
The week of brisk work was using up the stock of dynamite, while the rock was too hard to work much with picks. Moreover, the money of the partners was gone. To seek credit at Dugout would be a dangerous proceeding, for those who granted the accommodation of credit would be sure to want a high price for it, even to a goodly share in the output of the mine. More than one mine has been taken over by creditors, and the original owners have gone out into the world again, poor men.
Saturday morning of this week Tom and Harry descended the shaft together. Jim was already there with the men.
"I thought we had two more boxes of dynamite, Reade," explained
Ferrers. "I find that we have just six sticks left."
"Then may the Fates favor us with some lucky blasts!", muttered Tom.
"We can borrow money on our ore dump," suggested Harry.
"How about that?" asked Tom, looking intently at Ferrers.
"How much do you figure there is in the dump?" queried Jim.
"About two hundred dollars' worth of metal."