Harry eyed it studiously.
"You can see the silver sticking out!" he announced at last.

"It's wonderful--even if the Rodaines did do it." A form brushed past them, Blindeye Bozeman, returning from the celebration.

Picking up a drill, he studied it with care, finally to lay it aside and reach for a gad, a sort of sharp, pointed prod, with which to tear away the loose matter that he might prepare the way for the biting drive of the drill beneath the five-pound hammer, or single jack.

His weak, watery eyes centered on Harry, and he grinned.
"Didn't believe it, huh ?" came his query.
Harry pawed his mustache.
"I believed it, all right, but anybody likes to look at the United States Mint!" "You 've said it.

She 's going to be more than that when we get a few portable air compressors in here and start at this thing in earnest with pneumatic drills.