Right through that hole," he finished, pointing to an opening in the wall, "and down the steps." Frank led the way through the opening, and, at the foot of the steps, he and his chums found themselves in a small inferno.

The bright, shimmering stems of twenty batteries, each of five stamps, were marking time before their eyes like, a row of steel soldiers.

Each stamp weighed eight hundred and fifty pounds, and it rose and fell ninety-five times to the minute.

The uproar was steady and deafening.
Ore feeders were shoveling crushed ore into the stamp hoppers.

Frank's eyes ranged over the sweating, seminude, powerful figures as they worked.