They did it with some difficulty, and left him unceremoniously when they had deposited him, limp and almost helpless, in the open air; for miners who meet with unpleasantness of that kind recover, and one does not make a discovery that promises to put thousands of dollars into one’s pockets very frequently. They went back, and, though Weston felt faint and dizzy, he flung himself down among the smaller stones, and thrust one or two of them into Saunders’ hands.
“Feel them—and look at the break!” he exclaimed.
Saunders poised one of the stones carefully, and then glanced at the rent where it had been torn from the rock.
“Yes,” he said, “we’ve struck it this time, sure. Guess we’ll get out of this and make supper.”
“Make supper!” Weston gazed at him incredulously. “I don’t stir out of here until sun-up!”
Then he tore off his tattered shirt and stood up, stripped to the waist.
“Get hold of the drill,” he said, hoarsely. “You’ve got to work to-night.”
Saunders remembered that night long afterward. For the first half-hour he was troubled by a distressful faintness; and when that passed off, as the air grew clearer, his back and arms commenced to ache unpleasantly. He already had toiled since soon after sunrise; but Weston, too, had done so, and he, at least, seemed impervious to fatigue. So intent was he that every now and then he swung the heavy hammer long after his turn had run out, without asking for relief; and Saunders judiciously permitted him to undertake the more arduous task. By and by, however, Devine crept back to join them, and, when at length morning broke and the mouth of the adit glimmered faintly, Weston glanced at his bleeding hands as he flung down the hammer.
“I suppose we’ll have to let up for an hour or two,” he said reluctantly.
Saunders staggered when they reached the open air, and Weston seemed to have some difficulty in straightening himself, but they got breakfast, and afterward lay smoking beside the fire, almost too stiff to move. It was getting cold among the ranges now, and they were glad of the warmth from the blaze.