At the shrill summons, three jostling forms scrambled over the rocks near the site of the former cabin, and sped forward for a few yards, neck and neck. Then the race became a hard fought contest in which Dick, panting and out of breath, won by a narrow margin from Toma. Sandy was grumbling as he came up.
“They had to push me, of course. I’m protesting this race on the grounds that two of the contestants presumed to take unfair advantage.”
“I’ll look into it,” laughingly promised Corporal Richardson. Then he turned to the victor. “Dick, how are operations progressing at the mine?”
“Fine!” panted Dick. “We’ll clear the shaft before night. Once we’re able to get into the mine, work’ll go along more quickly.”
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Sandy’s uncle declared, as he pulled a grub-sack closer to the fire. “Your mine hasn’t a dump. What becomes of the rock and shale?”
“We asked ourselves that very same question,” replied Dick, “but we discovered the answer the first time we descended into the mine. We have water pressure to carry away everything except the pure ore itself.”
“But I don’t understand,” puzzled the factor. “What do you mean by water pressure?”
“There’s an underground river which flows below the mine,” explained Dick. “One of the passageways slopes down to a wide opening, through which one can hear the sound of rushing water. The former owners of the mine dumped all of the refuse here and it was quickly carried away. Sandy and I have figured out that the source of the river is the deep lake, near the wooden cross, two miles to the east of us. You remember seeing it.”
“Yes,” answered the factor.
“You boys are rich now,” congratulated Corporal Richardson. “What are you going to do with all your wealth?”