In the meantime, Thirlwell struck the drill his companion held. His face was damp with sweat and the hammer slipped in his hands, but he did not miss a stroke. He had promised the girl his help, and when the hole was sunk he chose the best spot for the next with fastidious care. He meant to play a straight game, although it would cost him much to let her win. By and by the miner picked up some of the bits of stone.
"Weight's all right; guess the stuff's carrying heavy metal," he remarked. "Still, I've seen a lode pinch out. It may be a pocket and the dirt run poor when you get farther in."
"It's possible," Thirlwell agreed in a dull voice.
The miner gave him a sharp glance. "Looks as if you wouldn't be much disappointed! Don't you want the dirt to go rich?"
"Let's get on," said Thirlwell. "I want to fire the shot before it's dark."
"Then watch out for my fingers," the miner rejoined. "When you pound her as you've been doing I like to see you keep your eye on the drill."
They worked for some time and then Thirlwell sent for Agatha, and helping her across the creek, held up the ends of two or three fuses and a match-box.
"It's proper that you should fire the first shot. I've put in a heavy charge and we'll know something about the ore when we see the stuff the blast brings down."
Agatha lighted the fuses and they hurried back to the shelter of the trees, where she stood with her heart beating fast. It was proper that she should be first to undertake her father's work; Thirlwell's thought was graceful. She glanced at him, but his brown face was inscrutable, although his mouth was firm. His quietness jarred; she felt angry and disappointed, as if she had been robbed of something.
For all that, she thrilled as she watched the faint sparkle of the fuse. She had won the first battle more easily than she had thought, and had now begun the next stage of the struggle. She sprang from a pioneering stock and knew that the shot she fired would break the daunting silence of the woods for good. If she failed to develop the mine somebody else would succeed. The lonely hollow would soon be covered with tents and shacks; men's voices and the rattle of machines would drown the soft splash of the creek. She was blasting a way for civilization into the wilderness.